Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Everything around Blair felt like it was spinning wildly out of control. She scooted her chair back abruptly and jumped from her seat, walking across the cottage. James called to her but she couldn't hear him. All she could hear was the wild beating of her heart. Shaking, she gripped onto the mantle of the fireplace, closing her eyes. The warmth of the fire heated through her woolen dress, but she could barely feel it. In her mind, Blair could see her father's face. She could see his warm kind eyes, the way he smiled at her and her sisters, and the way he danced with their mother through the tall fields around the keep.

"Come, me Blair. Ride atop my shoulders and see the lands ye will one day protect," she could hear him say.

"Will they love me like they love ye, father?"

Blair could still feel her father lift her up from his shoulders and set her bare feet in the cool, wet grasses. He bent down in front of her and smiled with reddened cheeks. "They'll love ye even more than they already do. Ye will be their fair and fierce protector. Ye will watch the lands and the seas, fight the warriors, and bring the family the next Laird when ye're old enough to love."

Young Blair sneered and her father laughed wildly. "Ye won't always feel that way, I promise ye. And he'll love ye until the day ye die."

"Or he'll drive ye to an early grave," Blair's mother added, laughing, walking up with her sisters.

The scene in Blair's mind dissolved, the colors shifting and darkening to that night in the castle. She thought about her father lying on the cold stone floor. Her body shivered remembering just how cold she got watching him be carried off by the healers. It all made sense, and Blair didn't want it to. It made sense how his sword wasn't with him when he came riding up, and why James had taken it from her uncle. It made sense why he was out so late, riding in secrecy. It made sense why he was bleeding.

Tears cascaded down Blair's cheeks as she pushed the memory away, not wanting to think of her father as a man who would do such a thing. She didn't want to believe that the caring and loving man, the one loved by the entire clan, would intend to kill his brother and his brother's children, who were just young boys at the time. Could a man change so much over something as insignificant as a prophecy? She wanted to think not, yet everything in her life had told her something different. Her uncle had been a kind and giving man when she was a young girl. Now? Now he was distant, cold, and oftentimes ruthless. Normally, men change like that because of power, but for her father, it was the lack of power, the lack of control over her and her sisters' futures that drove him to madness.

"Blair," Agatha whispered, putting her hand on Blair's shoulder. "I know this is not what you imagined."

"Not even for a second," Blair replied with a shaky voice. "It didn't cross my mind for even one moment. My father, the man I knew, loved his brother, his family. I can't imagine a man that would be so obsessed with a prophecy that he would break the very basic vow of God. I can't imagine him standing there even thinking of killing them."

Agatha nodded, rubbing her old hand across Blair's back. "The will of man is strong, but the mind of man can be weak and easily perverted. But you have to know, what your father did was still out of love for you and your family. It was a twisted way to keep ye safe, to keep the clan safe. He knew no better at that moment. He was consumed by the thought of losing his family. To him, there was no difference between thinkin' that they would do it, and walking in to find them with the swords to yer throats."

Blair backed up, shaking her head. "ye have to be wrong. Ye have to. No. There's no way. Maybe he went to talk to my uncle and on the way home an enemy, a vagrant on the road attacked him. Maybe my uncle was too afraid of my father knowin' the truth, and he killed him."

"I wish it were so, young lass," Agatha said sadly. "I've seen it all."

Blair glared up at Agatha. "Like ye interpreted the dreams of some ungodly dream by a fire? Ye're wrong!"

"Blair," James whispered, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Look at me."

Blair sniffled and looked up into his eyes. James sighed and pulled her into a strong, tight hug. "I know it's hard tae hear, but I've heard the same thing, and not from the gossipin' type either. That doesn't take away from how much he loved ye, or how good of a Laird he was to the clan. Every man has his breakin' point, and the thought of losin' ye and yer sisters… that was yer father's."

Blair wanted to pull away, to scream out at him, but she couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to fight the truth any longer. In fact, she knew there were days, weeks, months even, leading up to her father's death that Blair couldn't recall. She knew they were dark days at the keep, days of dark skies, her father locked away, and the life she thought so fondly of, suspended in time. Blair wanted to forget everything she learned there, but she knew she couldn't, not if she was going to keep moving forward. Not if she was going to try to get her sisters to safety.

After several moments, Blair dried her tears and stepped away from James, walking back over to the table. She took a sip of her tea and sighed, looking up at Agatha. The old woman had a guilted, sad look in her bright blue eyes, one that Blair almost felt bad about. It wasn't Agatha's fault that her father had done what he did. She should have been more careful, but a man was responsible for his own actions. Her father let it get the best of him and he couldn't manage to escape it.

Blair stared down at her tea. "I 'spose the coldness of my uncle makes a lot more sense now."

Agatha shivered. "Is he cruel to you and yer sisters?"

Blair shrugged. "In a way, yes. He wasn't particularly physical with us, but he wanted as little memory of our existence as possible. We were stripped of our things, our titles, and sent to work at the keep. We weren't allowed in common areas and we weren't welcome around him, unless he requested. Even then, you had to mind yer mouth and do as he said. I learned that the hard way. He's not the same man I remember from when I was a child."

Shaking her head, Agatha glanced toward the window. "I 'spose not. Life hardens a person, I don't think I have to tell you that. Yer uncle, he changed because of what happened, because of power, of grief, fer many reasons, I'm sure. I'm just glad tae see ye aren't there anymore."

"I might not be, but my sisters still are," Blair said. "It's one of the reasons I came to see ye. I fear fer my sisters."

"And, let me guess, because of yer cousin."

Blair nodded. "He's cruel, to say the least. Right now, my uncle has some sort of control on him, but without me there shieldin' my sisters, I fear him. I don't know if he hates us because he's just evil, or because of everything that happened."

Agatha closed her eyes for a moment. "That's who they were talkin' about…"

James looked at Agatha confused. "Who was talkin' bout' what?"

"I have to go out to the closest village from time tae time, tae get me some provisions. Over the years, ye hear things. Blair, yer cousin doesn't remember much of that night yer father died, but he knows about what happened, and the prophecy. He's made himself a pact of sorts."

"A pact?" Blair asked.

Agatha nodded. "Mhmm. A promise to not only hold onto what yer father tried to do to him and his father, but to take it out on you and yer sisters. Seems ye got away in time. The thing is, he isn't just angry over what happened, he fears ye. He fears the prophecy will come to life, and he'll be killed. The death of his brothers, even if they had nothing to do with your father, he blames them on the prophecy. He wants the power of Laird, there's no doubt about that, but he believes he'll never be safe with you and your sisters alive. Over the years his plan has evolved and changed, but only a bit, since yer uncle keeps a decent eye on him, but when he's gone…well, yer sisters aren't in a safe place there. Yer uncle will and can only protect them to a certain point."

"Why doesn't he just send them away? He wants them out of his hair. And I know he enjoys torturin' them but after a while, he'll be too busy to remember they're there."

Agatha shook her head. "The madness of the prophecy has taken him just like it took yer father. The biggest difference is, there's an evil inside of that boy that never touched yer father. He doesn't want to just get rid of them, he finds satisfaction in torturing ye. He finds a dark kind of exhilaration from hurtin' the girls. He'll kill em before he ever sends another of ye away."

Part of Blair knew that already. Part of Blair knew that her cousin looked forward to the day where he could do anything he wanted to the girls. Hearing it out loud though, though, struck a fear in Blair she had never known before.