Page 28 of Once Upon A Haunted Castle
Chapter Seven
The sound ofhorses thundering close to the gate jerked Elle from her momentary reverie. She lifted her head from where she’d bent to pick a sprig of rosemary in the herb garden.
Beiste. Erik.
The men had been gone for eight days. During that time, she’d finally ventured from her room to explore a bit of the castle grounds, finding most of her peace in the gardens among the fragrant herbs, flowers and vegetables. The only thing she’d not been able to do that she desperately wanted was to take a ride. She longed to feel the wind in her hair. The sleek muscles of a horse beneath her as they moved as one across the landscape. But before she could even reach the stables, one of the guards always stepped into her path, claiming that denying her a ride was for her own safety. Master’s orders.
Well, he was probably right with the enemy still being out there, but still… That didn’t make her want it any less.
Elle had been forced to find other pursuits to occupy her time. Anything to distract herself from thoughts of Beiste and fears for her brother.
But the sounds of riders, that was unmistakable. Even if she stuck her head into the dirt, she’d not be able to escape it. The ground fairly rumbled from the force of the horses’ pounding.
Lifting the hem of another gown she’d been gifted with, she ran around the side of the castle toward the bailey.
The gates were opened by men and she chewed her lip, bouncing on her feet in her anticipation. Erik had to be with him this time.
As the men filed through, she searched their faces, looked for her brother’s slight body amongst them. With each passing horse, her stomach knotted tighter and her jaw clenched harder. Her face grew as pink as the rose gown she wore.
When Beiste rode through the gate last, her fears came to a head.
No Erik.
No prisoners.
No signs of blood on their garments—no battle?
The expression on Beiste’s face said it all. Their mission had been a failure. Bjork was still out there. Her brother was still out there. With every passing moment, the chance of him surviving decreased.
Elle felt as though she might explode. Anger pummeled her insides. Turned her blood hotter than a flame. She should never have left him! This was her fault! Why had she entrusted a virtual stranger for the care of her brother, for his return? Beiste didn’t even know what her brother looked like, let alone the places in which he would hide. She’d been a fool to give a task that clearly belonged to her, over to another.
“Ye didna find him,” she said, unable to hide the upset in her voice.
She didn’t wait for him to reply, but whirled on her heels and ran toward the castle, up the stairs. Nearly two weeks had passed since she’d left Castle Gloom. Time was not a luxury she possessed. Her brother needed her and needed her now.
Elle pushed through her chamber door and whirled in a circle. What was she even doing up here? She didn’t own anything, not even the gown she wore. At least the boots and mantle were hers. Flinging open the wardrobe door, she rifled through the contents until she found her own gown that Mrs. Lach had been kind enough to have washed and Elle had herself repaired the tears. She quickly stripped out of the soft wool gown she’d been given and pulled on her own.
There was only one way to get her brother back and that was to sacrifice herself.
She grunted, finding the irony of it all too deep.
A blood sacrifice. Only, she’d be giving herself over to the Vikings in order to save her young brother.
She’d stand atop the mountain that looked down upon Castle Gloom and she’d shout for Bjork to come out of the shadows.
“Where are ye going?” ’Twas the voice of the ghost laird.
So used to his presence, Elle didn’t even bother to search for the vision of him. “To make a sacrifice. Isn’t that what ye want?”
There was a whisper of cold touch down her arm and she glanced up to see his face, wrinkled and transparent, concerned all the same.
He nodded. “Ye’ll need the sword.”
“Do ye know where it is?” she asked, not having seen it since she’d arrived nearly two weeks before.
“Aye.”
“Take me.” She followed the ghost through a door in her chamber that led into Beiste’s own room. The sword was placed carefully on metal hooks, mounted on the wall above his headboard. “He has no idea what that sword represents,” Elle mused.
