Page 67 of Sinbound to the Highlander
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The day Elspeth had said about their parents had come around, and from the day she had received the letter from Evan, he was slated to arrive a day after. Joyful expectation was bubbling in Freya’s heart, and she hopped into the carriage behind Elspeth. Stopping herself from fidgeting, she busied herself with looking out.
“Are ye planning anything special for Laird Ruthven’s arrival on the morrow?” Elspeth asked nonchalantly while examining her nails.
A wave of unjustified guilt seized Freya, and she reached out to her sister, “Elspeth, I ken ye told me there is naythin’ for me to apologize for, but I cannae help but feel ye’re unhappy.”
A tight smile creased Elspeth’s face, “Nay unhappy, Freya, it’s more that I wish I hadnae done all those things to push the Laird away. Every time I ken of him, I remember me reprehensible actions, and they push me back into an ugly place, where I was a harridan. I dinnae want to be that person again.”
“I kent it!” Freya grinned. “I kent ye were trying to change! I told Evan, but he dinnae believe me. Under all of yer troubles, I have to believe ye are a good person, Elspeth, perhaps ye can show it to him when he arrives.”
“Sooo,” Elspeth dragged out the word, “He daenae ken I’m intuitive enough to see the error of me ways and try to change them?” She looked out the window, “I suppose I’ll have to show him then.”
“He’ll appreciate it,” Freya nodded in surety. “I ken he will.”
The carriage trundled on with the scenery changing from bare forest to more extensive, barren plains that merged to rocky outcroppings and gritting gravel, underneath the snow, that jerked the carriage wheels.
The snow had stopped from the morning, and though the skies were light gray, the sun was a calm, silver disk above, and there was a chance the day would be fair enough. Freya kept her eyes out the window, and when the vehicle stopped, she did not wait for the driver to open the door for her.
Her feet hit the ground, sinking a little into the thick inches of snow, and before her was the cliff that Elspeth had spoken about. The outcropping probably did give a spectacular view of the sunset, but it was just after midday. They would have to wait long hours to see it, and Freya was apprehensive about going back home before their parents did.
The plod of feet on the snow-covered ground behind her had Freya turning. Elspeth had taken one of her maids with her and a basket of food, to have a meal at the cliffside. The snow had stopped falling thickly, and only light fluff drifted down here and there.
“Ye may lay down the blanket,” Elspeth directed her maid with a flick of her hand.
While she was spreading out the thick woolen blanket, Freya went as close to the edge as she dared and spotted the icy blue waters of a half-frozen loch below. The sections that had not been iced over showed her deep, unfathomable blue beneath, and she swallowed nervously before stepping away.
“Freya?” Elspeth called, and she turned to see her sister already seated, and went to join her. Folding her legs to the side, Freya looked over the food piled on the blanket, cold cuts of beef and roasted fowl, cheeses, and rolls of pieces of bread.
Goblets were set out, and Elspeth reached out for the wineskins, then handed one to her, “This is cider, I remember ye’re nay too particular about wine.”
“Thank ye,” Freya said as she poured out her drink.
“So, after yer wed, what do ye ken ye’ll do?” Elspeth asked.
Unsure of how to reply, Freya dithered. With hesitant words, she spoke about following up with the tutors, and spending time with the healers. She even suggested traveling back to her village on the days when she did not have to be at the castle with Evan.
Swirling her cider, Freya sighed, “I should have spoken to Evan about this.”
Reaching for the skin, she poured more out and drank, not realizing she drank more than she ate. When she did reach for a roll of bread, the tiny shift had her feeling that the earth was moving violently underneath her. She pressed a hand to her forehead and fought back the swimming sensation taking her mind.
“Freya?” Elspeth said cautiously. “Are ye all right?”
Blinking furiously, Freya frowned at the sight of two Elspeth’s before her, the images of her sister splitting apart and merging with every breath she took. And her body felt heavy—even lifting her arm felt as if she was dragging a bag of brick up to her face. She blinked, and her lids were heavy as lead.
Elspeth came forward and peered into her eyes, “Freya, are ye all right?”
“Nay,” Freya said, and the goblet tumbled out of her hand. “Nay, I daenae feel right. We’ll have to go back to the castle—” as she tried to stand, her feet crumbled under her. In shock, she realized when she had felt this before—the night when her hairpin had gone missing. Had—had Elspeth drugged her that time as well with the milk?
Her knees collided with the sharp gravel, and she called out in pain. “Elspeth, help.”
Her sister sat back, and slowly finished her drink while Freya’s trembling hand stretched out for help. Nonchalantly, Elspeth gestured to her maid, “Strip her.”
While her clothes were being torn from her, she heard Elspeth say, “Ye carried the dye, aye?”
* * *
Evan was just about to exit the Great Hall when someone rushed in, and shouted, “Laird! Laird! I’ve come from Laird Lobhdain. It’s Miss Crushom, she—”
