Page 119 of The Speed of Lightning
She nodded, her hands sweating as the door clicked shut.
As quick as a hare, she snatched the mirror from the table and froze at the sight—her face streaked with smudged silver leaf, her fletters half unbound and knotted in a furious mess. Panic shook her hands as she plunged them into the water, scrubbing until her skin was raw and pink. She pulled a plain blue leine over her head, wadded her discarded finery, and shoved it into the trunk. She would deal with the mess later.
Her nerves were inside-out and simmering with each step as she rushed up the hall, bursting into the kitchen where Cara, Aoife, and Aileen were gathered. They squealed at once, rushing to her in delight.
Aoife clasped her hands. “Oh, it’s happened for you, love. How indescribably wonderful.”
“Aye, yes—but—” Freya’s voice cracked with hysteria. “Cara, he’s gone. Calum’s headed to the cog, Hector has asked to meet with him. I thought he would wait until we were safely seabound to speak of it—I’m no’ even there.”
Cara threaded her fingers gently through the tangles of Freya’s hair, her calm a counterpoint to Freya’s dread. “Shh…shh…he won’t. I know he won’t. He’s likely trying to soften Calum’s mood beforehand, that’s all. All will be well.”
Aileen didn’t look as convinced. Her face had gone ashen, and she signed quickly before yanking off her apron and heading for the door. She nearly collided with David MacKenzie as he stuck his head inside.
“Is your trunk ready, Freya?” His eyes swept over her hair. “Been out in this wind?”
She tried to chuckle. “N–no, I just—I—we…” Her tongue stilled, the words drying up. After a few moments she gave up entirely, cheeks burning.
“I was going to help her with it,” Aoife jumped in smoothly. “She needs another set of hands for waterfall plaits.”
David gave a grunt and strode down the hall, wholly uninterested.
The moment he was gone, Cara and Aoife’s fingers flew, tugging through the tangles and plaiting as fast as they could.
“Aileen’s gone for Léo,” Cara murmured. “They’ll see to it Calum’s in a jovial mood. All will be well.” She repeated it, firmer this time, as if sheer insistence might make it true. “All will be well.”
From the cracked window came a sudden thwapping flutter. All three of them jerked as a silvery-black bird landed on the sill, tilting its head with a harsh squawk.
Aoife crossed herself. “A jackdaw.”
Freya’s gaze snapped to her. “What is it?”
Cara clucked, fingers never slowing as she brought the plait around the crown of Freya’s head. “An old superstition in Ireland. Said to be a harbinger of misfortune.”
Freya fidgeted, wishing their hands would move faster. “We have to go.”
Cara tied the plait, forcing a smile. “All will be well. Let’s go.”
Aoife finished her knot. “Aye, ready.”
They hurried from the cottage toward the beach. The Leviathan bobbed at the slip, Calum’s white-blond head bent toward Hector’s on the deck. Freya slipped her hand into her pocket, searching for his ballad—only to find it gone.
She froze, spinning back toward the cottage. “I’ve forgotten it.”
Cara frowned. “Forgotten what?”
“The ballad. Calum wrote me a ballad. I left it. I cannae lose it—but we must hurry.”
Aoife thrust her small bag into Cara’s hands. “Go—keep things calm. I’ll help her search.”
Cara nodded and ran for the slip.
Freya and Aoife bolted back inside, tearing through the rooms. Not in the bedchamber. Not in the hall. Not in the kitchens. They split up again, retracing their steps, panic rising—until at last Aoife cried out.
“I found it, it slipped under the basin!”
Freya hurried down the corridor and rounded back into the bedchamber. “Thank God.” She snatched the ballad from Aoife and slid it inside her cloak. She turned?—
A thunderous clap split her senses. She staggered into Aoife, who cried out as they both went down. Rough cloth dropped over her head. Blind and gasping, Freya clawed for Aoife’s hand and caught it—only to feel their fingers crushed together, then torn apart.
