“The cold-fire simmers at the edge, but it does no’ drift any deeper.”
“I’m doing all I can to keep any emotions of grief and loss at bay, but it isnae easy. I miss Finlay. From the moment I left him, I left a piece of my soul behind.” She’d snuck as many glimpses of him in during the past three days that she could.
Yesterday, she’d stood at her chamber window as he’d trained below in the yard with the other warriors. His skill with the two-handed claymore was immense. He’d struck the man he’d fought against again and again until his large opponent had wheezed and dropped to his knees under the ferocious onslaught. So too his ability on the archery field surpassed any other. She’d hidden in the forest at the edge of the clearing where the warriors trained. Finlay had swung his bow from his back, eased his left foot slightly in front of the right then slid the arrow into the notch. Only one warrior had hit the target dead center and he’d ribbed Finlay from the sidelines that none could beat him. That hadn’t deterred her mate one bit. With fierce determination, he’d lifted the arrow tip and aligned his sight on the red strip of fabric tied around a trunk two-hundred yards away. Then he’d let his arrow go and it had flown free and arched perfectly as it sailed. Right on target, it hit and splintered the other warrior’s arrow in two as it embedded itself deep into the trunk.
“Are you all right?” Julia tapped her arm.
“I need to find him. Just being able to see him helps, even though I have to remain out of his sight.”
“Finlay is training in the loch, swimming in a loop between here and the village.” Julia picked up a small bowl of honey from the center of the table and swirled it over her oats then added a splash of milk from the jug, the ruffled sleeves of her sunshine-yellow gown flapping as she did. She nudged Arabel’s spoon toward her. “Come, your oats will go cold if you dinnae eat them.”
“I’m no’ hungry.”
“You still need to eat a spoonful or two.” Julia picked up the large pitcher and filled two brass goblets with warm cider, passed one to her and took a sip from the second. “You’re to drink as well.”
That at least she could do to appease her sister. Brass goblet in hand, she took a sip of the tangy cider then set it back down. Today, just like the last two, the drink slid tastelessly down her throat. Being without her mate tore at her heart, and no matter the smidgeon of hope she clung to, that there might truly be an answer, her despair still rose again and again. Over the last three days, Isla had aided her in scouring through the parchment rolls recording their fae history, papers Nessa kept here within an antechamber off the great hall. They’d sat together for hour upon hour going over all the recordings, yet not once had either of them found anything of use which might lead to a resolution. Even though she’d forced hers and Finlay’s separation in order to save his life, if there was a way for them to be together, she intended to find it. Holding even a smidgeon of hope was a powerful thing.
“Arabel?” Julia gasped and shuffled farther away along the bench. “Look at your goblet. There are now indents in the brass, heated indents.”
“Is there heat emanating from me?”
“There is. You’ll need to visit the pool straight after you’ve eaten.”
“I’ve already been to the pool, only an hour afore dawn.” She’d visited the loch three times yesterday and each dunking had taken longer to cool her adequately. Mayhap she’d never regain her control and she would in fact perish during the battle. Oh well. Better to go out in a blaze of fury aiding her kin than to die for no use at all.
“Cool yourself now with a little water.” Julia seized the water jug on the table and set it on the bench seat between them. “Dunk your hands.”
She did then waved the steam away. “Is there less heat now?”
“Aye, there is less.” Julia’s eyes widened on the front door of the keep. “Oh dear. ’Tis Finlay. He shouldnae be done with his swim yet.”
Sheathing his sword in his side scabbard, Finlay strode in, his black hair lying damp and wildly unkempt. Snug rawhide trews of a soft tan encased his muscled legs and a brown leather vest flapped haphazardly over top of his wrinkled white tunic, the hem fluttering free. He slowed at one of the trestle tables several warriors had recently vacated and scanned the hall. She gasped at the sight of the dark circles rimming his eyes.
“Look away,” Julia urged her as she stood. “I’m sorry, but it isnae wise to test Isla’s compulsion.”
“Julia!” Finlay waved out to her sister then strode toward them.
Julia hurried across and grasped his arm and tried to turn him around.