—
She’d left everything behind—coat, hat, scarf, and gas mask. If I’d known where the croft was, I would have taken them and left them on the doorstep, but all I knew was that it was somewhere between the inn and the castle.
I searched for the master key, eventually finding it on a hook under the bar. Then I made up the rooms, moving through the tasks like a robot. When I was finished, I went back and did them again.
I lined the toiletries up at exact intervals on the dressers. I wiped the mirrors clean. I picked the wax off the candleholders and smoothed the surfaces of the quilts. And when there was nothing left to straighten or polish or dust, I went to bed.
—
I stayed in my room that evening, despite Ellis’s insistence that I join him for dinner. I could tell from his tone that he was in a foul mood, and when I stopped responding, his entreaties turned into accusations of mental instability. He threatened to send for a doctor if I didn’t come out.
I did not, and a doctor never appeared.
Hours after everyone else had gone to bed, I continued to thrash, twisting the quilts around my feet and punching my pillow, trying to find a position that would finally allow me to rest, but nothing helped, because it was not my body that refused to go still. My throat was so tight I could barely swallow, and my eyes welled with tears.
I knew with absolute certainty that if I’d gone upstairs right away, my mother would still be alive. But if I hadn’t gone into the Cover and seen the Caonaig, would Hugh also still be alive?
I crept downstairs and sat by the fire, which had been dampened with a layer of ash.
When Mr. Grant found me, I was on the floor in front of the grate, hugging my knees to my chest. I didn’t hear him coming, or even notice the light of the candle.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
I jerked around, pulling my nightgown over my ankles in an attempt to hide my bare feet. My cheeks were slick with tears.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” He held the candle closer and looked me over.
The lump in my throat had grown even larger, and it was difficult for me to speak. When I did, my voice was strangled. “I did it, didn’t I?”
“Did what, lass?” He set the candle on the low table and knelt beside me, searching my eyes with his. “What have you done?”
“I’ve killed Anna’s brother.”
“And how do you figure that?”
“I saw the Caonaig—I didn’t want to see her, but I did, and then when I told Anna, she knew right away what it meant. I thought she was just being superstitious, but it turns out she was right. If I’d just stayed out of the Cover, if I hadn’t let that stupid crow chase me in, her brother would still be alive.”
“Oh,” he said, letting the word slide out on a long exhale. His expression melted into one of pity and sadness. “No. No, lass. He would not.”
“But I saw the Caonaig—”
“You didn’t do anything. It was the godforsaken war.”
“But Anna’s already lost at least one other brother. How much loss are people supposed to bear?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know. It seems there’s nothing so good or pure it can’t be taken without a moment’s notice. And then in the end, it all gets taken anyway.”
I looked wildly into his face. “If that’s the case, what’s the point of even living?”
“I wish I knew,” he said with a wry half smile. “For some time now, that’s been a source of great mystery to me.”
I looked at him for a few seconds longer and then burst into tears—colossal, heaving sobs that wracked my shoulders.
Before I knew what was happening, he’d wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him, breathing heavily into my hair. I scrabbled onto my knees and tossed my arms around his neck, pressing my open, sobbing mouth on the pulse that beat so strongly in his throat.