"Blood ran down Caelan’s face, his hair matted with it. Isla had seen the lifeless way he had dropped to the ground just a few minutes ago. Now they were both tied hand and foot, helpless, and being rowed across the loch by Father and Iagan. Isla knew beyond all doubt that they would kill her husband. They might try to ransom him first, but there was no way they would let him return to the castle alive. Her dreams of any future wilted. If she wasn’t simply killed--and she doubted she would have it that easy--she would be given to Iagan, as Father had always intended. Any children that she had wouldn’t be Caelan’s. The thought made her shudder.

Suddenly, the scene shifted. Iagan was dead, and Caelan was barely able to stand. Alan was bleeding badly. Aileene was calm and collected, focused on stopping Alan’s bleeding. Isla tried to stay calm, but the sight of his blood terrified her. She knew that Alan had lost a lot of it. How much more could he afford to lose? She was useless here. She had been able to fight just a little, but she could do nothing for her injured husband or the man who had saved them. 

Useless.

“Isla?”

Isla snapped awake, and before she knew what she was doing, she swung.

Caelan caught her wrist just before she could slap his face.

Caelan. Her husband. Her everything.

“Nightmares again?” he asked, and the almost casual way he said it made her cringe. They were so common now that Caelan expected them. The incident had happened a month ago, and since then she hadn’t been able to think about much else. She had awoken him just a couple nights ago with a punch to the ribs. Another night, she had woken him by screaming. The worst part was that others had heard that, and rumours had started echoing in the halls. Rumours that she was unwell. Rumours that he was hurting her. She hated both.

She let Caelan help her sit up. “Ah’m sorry, love,” she sighed.

He waved a careless hand and sat on the bed beside her. “Ahcannae blame ye. Ah had dreams like that after ma first few battles. It took me a long time to get over them, and Ah still have them sometimes,” he added with a scowl.

“So ye just get used to it?” she asked. The nightmares weren’t something she wanted to get accustomed to.

“Ah talked to some of ma mates about it. Ah was careful to pick the ones who had seen similar things and would understand that it’s not all just glory. It’s blood and pain and fear. Ah talked to them, and they told me their own tales, and that was that.” He shrugged.

“Ah see,” Isla said. “Ah shall have to talk to Aileene, then. Ah think she would understand better than most.”

“Ah would agree,” Caelan said, nodding.

“Ah could talk to Hextilda,” Isla added, and then wished she hadn’t the moment Caelan stiffened.

“Ah don’t know why ye like that mince woman,” Caelan sighed.

Isla just shrugged. There was something she liked about Hextilda. She had shown up among the refugees shortly after Isla and Caelan had been taken. There was something about her that had immediately drawn Isla to her, though she couldn’t put her finger on it. There was simply a sort of kinship between them.

“That woman has bewitched ye,” Caelan said. He tried to smile, but the comment was only half jest. The fact that Hextilda claimed to be a soothsayer made him deeply uncomfortable. Isla didn’t really understand why. She went to the kirk every Sabbath just like everyone else, and she knew that they preached against soothsaying as black magic, but she couldn’t believe that Hextilda was a wicked woman.

Isla laughed softly at her husband. “Are ye afraid of a woman, ma laird?”

“Ah have sense enough to be wary of anyone, man or woman, who dabbles in powers they cannae understand. Why don’t ye keep to studyin’ wi’ Aileene, huh?”

“Ah am. Ah just learn with Hextilda, too.”

Caelan rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but he didn’t provide any further protests.

Isla stood. She had to get bathed and dressed quickly, or she would miss her meeting with Aileene.

“Did it ever occur to ye that ye started havin’ the nightmares right after ye associated yerself with that woman?” Caelan asked.

Isla looked back at him. That thought hadn’t even occurred to her.

“Ah see it didne occur to ye. Give it some thought, will ye?”

“All right,” she sighed, but she knew it wouldn’t change anything. Hextilda was her friend, and she had very few good friends these days. Most people saw her as just another refugee who had somehow managed to catch the laird's eye. She had to admit that the rumour was essentially right. She felt so out of her depth here.

She quickly bathed--she had finally talked Caelan into letting her bathe without attendants, though she knew they stayed close outside the door. There were also guards outside the door. Caelan was taking no chances after they had already been taken once, but Isla hoped never to have to call the guards in on her while she bathed. Truth be told, an assassin might finish her off before she could make herself call the guards in while she was in a state of undress.

She dressed in the plainest dress she could find--she always felt like a peacock when she dressed in the nicer dresses, though her husband encouraged her to do so.

The people need a lady to look up to, he would tell her.

Ah feel like Ah’m on parade, she would mutter back at him.

Yer bonnie. People notice. That’s all, he would reply softly.

Well, today she had appointments to learn healing, so she had an excuse to wear a dress that wasn’t so showy. She wouldn’t want to get blood on her silks, after all. Truth be told, she still froze sometimes at the sight of a bad wound. She hadn’t done that nearly as much before she and Caelan had been taken, but since that night...since those haunting dreams… "

Read The Full Book - Available HERE