Page 40 of The Splendor of Fire
Moira lifted her eyebrows. “Ask me how something’s done no matter what Ardis tells you. That’s the fourth time this week she’s tricked you.”
She rolled her eyes and nodded. Fourth, and not the last time Ardis would be after her. Ever since Moira had moved from scullery to chambermaid Ardis’s entire demeanor had transformed from pleasant to threatened as if it were Moira’s own choice to continue at Dun Ringill and usurp Ardis’ place in the pecking order.
Exiting the gloomy servant’s hall and climbing the damp backstairs, Moira made her way toward the fourth floor where the family kept their rooms. She pushed into the first room and collected Lady Malvina’s used pot from beneath the bed and then returned to the corridor garderobe?1 and emptied it down the hole.
The next chamber was the family’s common solar?2. Listening for sounds of Niall, she waited, relieved to hear nothing. As she was about to continue to the next room she noticed the door wobble, though generally neither Niall nor Malvina frequented the solar at this time of the day.
If there were used pots inside and she didn’t collect them, she would be in trouble. A memory of the heavy hand mirror colliding with her skull was enough to make her consider going inside, even if Niall was there. With one finger she pushed the heavy door. It creaked open a few inches and she peered through the crack.
The room was dark and ominous, though a fire burned in the hearth. The heavy bear skin over the window lofted out on the breeze. Someone must have forgotten to secure it last night. Punishment for one servant was a punishment for all, and reluctantly she slid inside.
The room was empty. Her heart slowed. Thank God for small mercies.
It was hard to believe that a man as good-hearted as Léo had been raised in this hopeless place. Every piece of furniture, the skins on the windows and floors, the fabric of the cushions, and the half-paneled walls were dark. It was as if light itself was not welcome in their home. She thought of Father’s cheerful cottage by the sea with its drawings and shells, and then looked around at the ugly room. No wonder Léo’s family was loony.
Around the half-plastered, half-paneled walls, wolves chased a deer across the fields of a painted snowy scene. Her eyes followed their pursuit around the room. From the shoreline painted above the door the doe ran, over a burn?3, through the wood, around the heights of the Cuillin Hills. The chase ended over the hearth with the doe sprawled in the snow, blood leaching from her neck as hungry wolves devoured her. A warped choice to adorn the walls of a solar, but fitting for this lot.
The bear skin slapped against the plaster and she jumped, then chuckled to herself, and made her way to the window. As she navigated around a heavy oak desk, a word on a wrinkled piece of paper beside a collection of spirits caught her eye.Duart.
Squinting her eyes in the dim light, she read the correspondence.
Chief Niall MacKinnon. Dun Ringill Castle. Isle of Skye. — Three centuries caterans to infiltrate Craignure, third November. Expect to take Duart same night. Two additional centuries to arrive by boat through the Sound of Mull after commencement. Need additional support, three tent-groups?4archers and as many centuries of guard as you can spare. Expect total destruction. No prisoners. - A. Stewart.
The Wolf was planning to attack Duart Castle. The stronghold of the Duart house of the MacLean clan. The fine hair on the backs of her arms stood on end. An attack on Hector’s brother. Her heart jumped into her throat. No prisoners? He had a wife and five children.
Searching the desk, she found paper and ink and picked up the quill, copying the message with speed. When she’d finished she stowed away the supplies, blew on the ink, and folded the paper. How would she get the message out of the castle? For months she’d been trying, but every door was barred and every window hung over Loch Slapin—its dark waters too frightening to risk a fall. Unsure what else she could do she pulled off her slipper and stowed the information in her shoe.
“What are you doing in here?”
Gasping, she brought a hand to her chest, fear overtaking her senses.
Niall stalked close to her, his portly figure becoming a solid wall between herself and the door. “So you do get scared?”
Heart pounding, she drew her shoulders back, refusing to look guilty, but unsure how much he’d witnessed before she’d stowed the missive away. She pointed toward the door, then brought her closed palms together and opened them like a book.
“The door was open?”
She nodded and turned, pulling back the heavy bear skin, demonstrating that the window shutters were opened. He gripped the sill on either side of her, pinning her to the window. Her heart raced. It had taken much skill to avoid Niall MacKinnon in his own keep, but for two months she’d managed to be trapped alone with him only twice.
“Beautiful, long-legged Moira. Have you thought about my offer?”
She swallowed and nodded her head.
He dropped his face beside hers, his lips touching her neck, and it took all of her self-control not to slap him away. He breathed in and she shivered with revulsion, though he seemed to be encouraged by it.
“Wouldn’t you love to know pleasure? To feel a thrill every time I’m near?”
Sour breath filled her nose. The only thing she could feel when Niall was near was desperation for him to leave. She shook her head.No.
“Wouldn’t you love to have fine gowns, hot baths, a maid to take care of yourevery need?”
What maid? Ardis? She shook her head.No.
“Wouldn’t you like to live in chambers as fine as this?”
Her eyes found the wolf on the wall, a bloody bone hanging from its mouth, its ugly, lifeless eyes staring back at her. She almost laughed.No.
“Wouldn’t you love to have your freedom? To go where you want, when you want?”
