Page 46 of The Irresistible Warrior
A murmur ran through the few who lingered in the hall, drawn by the tension in the air.
William’s gaze slid to Aura, lingering too long before returning to Declan. “Be sure of what you say, my lord, for consequences have actions.”
“I am sure,” Declan said, each word like a stone dropped in still water. “Now leave us and do not return here.”
William’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Very well,” he said, dipping his head in a shallow nod. “I will leave… for now. But remember, my lord, some shadows follow whether you wish them to or not.”
Declan’s gaze didn’t waver. “I don’t fear shadows or the dark.”
“You might want to think again, the shadows hold more than you know.”
The cleric turned and strode from the hall. The low hum of conversation that followed him told Declan his departure wouldn’t silence the gossip.
Aura rose from her seat beside Freyda and called out to her husband. “I have something I must tend to in my work cottage. I will not be long.”
He gave her a short nod, knowing she was preparing for the incantation she would cast. “Meet me in my solar when you are done.”
He waited until the door closed behind her, then he retreated to his solar.
The familiar space greeted him with the faint scent of oak smoke and—he stopped after closing the door and sniffed the air. Pine. Where did that come from? He saw no pine branches lying about, the servants sometimes placing them about to scent the air.
A movement in the corner drew his attention and he stilled.
A woman stood in the dim light, her dark cloak blending into the shadows. Her eyes, sharp and knowing, fixed on him with unsettling calm… the witch.
Aura pushed openthe door to her work cottage, leaving gray skies behind her as she was greeted by the familiar scent of dried herbs. She began gathering what she needed for the incantation; small bundles of rosemary and rowan twigs, a smooth river stone she had kept for years, and the hag stone found at the ring of stones, having included it for extra protection. Her movements were quick, practiced, but her thoughts kept slipping to Declan.
What if William’s poison had sunk too deep into the clan? What if they couldn’t break this curse before suspicion turned into something far more dangerous?
She tied the last sprig of rosemary, setting it with the rest, and reached for her leather pouch. If the incantation worked, the witch would appear, hopefully the right witch, or at least a helpful one. It was the reason she hadn’t summoned a witch before now, fearful of who she might call on.
The quiet of the work cottage pressed around her, broken only by the faint crackle of the small fire in the hearth. She should remain focused on her task at hand. But something nagged at her and instead, her mind wandered. The memory of the first cleric crept unbidden into her thoughts, the details clearer now than they had once been.
He wore no cross about his neck. Offered no blessing before or after the vows. No prayer for protection against the witch, though any true man of God would have offered one in these times. And his appearance was sloven for a man of the cloth and he drank to excess. He’d hurried them through the solemn rite, almost as if he was anxious to have it done.
Her brow knit, not believing she hadn’t put it all together. It made more of an impact when all the signs were brought together.
William… he wore no cross either. And in the time, he’d been here, she could not recall him offering a single blessing against the witch. No prayers in the Great Hall to calm fears. Only words meant to stir suspicion—toward her.
She absentmindedly took the hag stone in her hand.
Could it be?
Could William be a warlock? And the first cleric—his servant, sent here to keep them from truly being wed?
The thought hit her with such force she had to steady herself against the table.
She needed to know. She needed some proof.
Gathering her cloak about her, Aura stepped out of her cottage, the gray skies casting a bleak feeling in the air. Villagers cast their eyes to the disturbing clouds and gathered in small groups to whisper. She walked the narrow lanes, stopping here and there to speak to those she trusted the most and those who trusted her.
“Did the cleric offer blessings? Prayers for protection?” she asked.
They frowned in thought and were surprised at their own answers.
“Nay. He spoke only of you.”
“Told me to keep my guard against you.”
