Page 22 of Fallen
They fell silent again while the wind continued to whine and rattle. Over the past days, the silences between Coira and Craeg had often been companionable. After he’d told her the brutal story of exactly why he hated his half-brother, Coira had felt an odd kinship toward the outlaw.
He had no idea of her own history with MacKinnon, or of her past at all, but knowing that they’d once lived under the same roof—albeit during different timeframes—made her feel as if this man understood her a little.
His mother had been a whore, after all.
A lump rose in Coira’s throat, her body flushing hot and then cold. Even after a decade away from the brothel, a sickly sensation still swept over her whenever she thought about her previous life.
Will I ever outrun the memories?
Coira’s breathing started to come in short, fast breaths as her chest tightened. She wanted to run right now. It was torture to sit and wait like this. Time inched forward, and just when Coira decided she would have to get up and start pacing the cramped space of the alcove, she heard a gentle thud of the door.
“Sister Coira?” Sister Mina’s voice reached them, low and urgent. “It is time.”
Wordlessly, Coira rose to her feet, took the quarter-staff that she’d rested against the wall, and motioned to Craeg. He stood up, his attention shifting to the weapon she held loosely at her side. His gaze widened questioningly, for he hadn’t noticed it till now, but Coira ignored him.
It was best he didn’t know Kilbride’s secrets.
Pushing aside the hanging, Coira led the way into the main space of the infirmary. Sister Mina awaited them by the door, a small figure outlined against the shadows. They followed her outside into a blustery night, shutting the door quietly behind them.
The wind had a bite to it, cold for mid-summer, and clouds raced across a mottled sky. A waxing half-moon hung above, casting the world below in a silvery light.
Coira pulled her cloak close and followed Sister Mina’s slender silhouette around the back of the kirk. They hugged the shadows, the sound of their footfalls masked by the whistling wind. Although Coira didn’t glance behind her, she sensed that Craeg was following at her heel, no more than three paces behind.
She didn’t need to worry about him being careless or noisy. The man was used to making himself one with the darkness, to traveling unseen.
Skirting the edge of the complex of buildings that spread out around the kirk, the three of them avoided the shortest route to the gates, which would have taken them into the open across a wide dirt yard. Instead, Sister Mina took them the long way, past the graveyard and the fowl coop, before they edged along, under the shadow of the high stone wall that encircled the abbey.
Sister Firtha, a lanky young woman who’d just recently taken her vows of perpetuity, awaited them at the gates. Swathed in a slate-grey cloak, the nun blended in perfectly with the darkness. When she stepped forward to greet them, Coira’s step faltered, her heart leaping in her chest.
Placing a hand over her thudding heart, Coira nodded to Sister Firtha. Without a word, Sisters Firtha and Mina both went to the gates—high slabs of oak and iron. From a distance the gates appeared closed, yet this close, and now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Coira realized that they were indeed ajar. The two nuns hauled them open, creating a gap of around two feet.
Coira and Craeg squeezed through it. As she crept away and scanned her surroundings, Coira heard a soft creak as the nuns pushed the gates closed once more. They’d leave them ajar ready for her return, hopefully sooner rather than later.
Still not speaking, she led Craeg east, into the hazel wood that flanked the abbey. Earlier that evening he’d told her that direction was the closest to where he was headed. Craeg had been careful not to reveal any detail about the location of the new outlaw camp.
She supposed he was being tightlipped for her benefit, not just for his. If she didn’t know where he and his band were hiding, she couldn’t betray them, even under duress.
As soon as they entered the woods, a little of the tension that had coiled tight within Coira eased. They were outside the abbey walls now at least, and she was confident that no one had seen them leave. Father Camron would now be none the wiser that they’d been harboring a wanted criminal inside the walls.
It was beautiful amongst the trees, with the moonlight frosting them. Coira rarely walked in the woodland after dark, and despite the roar of the wind through the branches, the peace settled over her, soothing her jangled nerves.
Behind her, she heard Craeg’s heavy tread and the whisper of his breathing. He walked close now, so she slowed her stride, mindful that he’d been bed-ridden for the past week.
“How are ye feeling?” she murmured, slowing further so that he drew up alongside.
“A bit weak, but well enough,” he replied in a voice that warned her from inquiring further. Of course, his injury would be paining him, but he was stubborn and he wouldn’t tell her that.
Ye need to stop fussing,Coira reminded herself.He’s no longer yer patient.
No, he wasn’t, but she worried for him nonetheless. An odd sort of friendship had struck up between them in the past days, and she’d found herself looking forward to her trips to the infirmary. Despite that he couldn’t linger at Kilbride, she knew Craeg shouldn’t be up and about this soon, not after being so ill.
They continued walking, side-by-side now, the wind tugging at their cloaks, until they reached a small glade. They were around ten furlongs east of the abbey, and here the land sloped upwards. If they were to keep walking in the same direction, the trees would soon give way to foothills. And then shortly after that, they would stand under the shadow of great mountains.
Craeg halted in the midst of the glade and turned to Coira.
Moonlight filtered in, highlighting his face in sharp angles. However, his eyes were dark as his gaze settled upon hers. “This is where our paths diverge,” he said softly. “It’s not safe for ye to travel any farther, Coira.”
The intimacy in the way he spoke her name made Coira catch her breath. She’d never thought her name a beautiful one, but it was whenhesaid it. Warmth spread across her chest, and she was glad the darkness hid the blush she was sure now stained her cheeks. “It’sSisterCoira,” she managed finally, her voice higher than usual.
