Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It took hours for Jocelyn's hands to stop shaking and her mind to stop racing. She had no idea what Bram was talking about, but she knew that whatever it was, it wasn't good. She had watched Bram stalk the girls for years, finding ways to punish them that wouldn't leave outward scars. Jocelyn knew that destroying them was not just something he wanted to do but something he felt he needed to do. He feared them as much as he hated them and after finding out what her father did, Jocelyn, in some ways, didn't blame him as much. Regardless, he was evil, and that evil was not just from a prophecy, it came from deep inside of him.

Laying on the bed, covers pulled up, the door locked tightly, Jocelyn tried to find her comfortable place. She tried to find that moment of peace where she could drift off to sleep, but every time she was close, she would hear footsteps, a cricket, the dripping of water from the roof, just about every sound she could hear. Those sounds were sounds she lived with each and every day, but until that night, she had never really noticed them. The hum and strum of the world around her, nature flourishing, the changing winds, it all put her on edge, terrified her that Bram would come back.

Jocelyn sighed with irritation and threw her covers back, sitting up on the edge of the bed. She ran her hands over her face and tapped her bare foot on the stone below. The room was dark, but her eyes had adjusted, and she glanced around the space, looking for something that she thought might help her, but even the books on her table seemed uninteresting. They were fairy tales, and a fairy tale wasn't what Jocelyn felt she needed at that point.

It was late, somewhere in the middle of the night, and all was quiet. The staff who worked overnight in case the Laird needed anything stayed predominantly in the kitchen. The guards stuck to their posts. And Jocelyn had no idea where Bram was, but considering his level of drunkenness earlier in the evening, she doubted he was still conscious. So, instead of driving herself crazy just laying there, Jocelyn dressed in her simple skirt and blouse, wrapped a tartan over her shoulders, and grabbed a lamp. The only place she knew she would find solace was the library, and Bram never went there. In fact, Jocelyn wondered if he had ever been there.

Jocelyn closed the drapes of her windows and quietly snuck from her room, not wanting to wake her sisters. Through the castle she went, taking the safer, but longer route around to get there. As she entered, closing the doors behind her, she let out a sigh of relief. With the library the most interesting thing in that area of the castle, besides the Laird's chambers around and through the corridor, the foot traffic was light. When Jocelyn was younger she would sit in the library imagining that there was an invisible, magical barrier that wouldn't allow evil intentions through its door. It was nonsense, of course, but it made Jocelyn feel safe, something she rarely felt anymore.

She headed through the library to the stacks, smiling as she ran her fingers over the spines of the books. Jocelyn knew she wasn't ready for anything new, just something to help her relax, something familiar. As she walked down the row, glancing at the titles, she paused and backed up, pulling a book from the shelf. She smiled, running her hand over the cover and flipping through the hand-illustrated pages. Jocelyn took the book over to the table in the center and sat, opening it up. It was a book she was enamored by when she was a little girl. She didn't understand it then, and it was nothing more than a plant guide written by a healer, but the drawings always seemed so magical to her.

As she slowly flipped page after page, Jocelyn thought back to the night her father had died. She had snuck from her room to the library, something she did far too often. Getting that book from the shelves she could remember the warmth and comfort she felt wrapped in her blanket, the rain pouring down outside, her mind taking her to another place where fairies played and magic swirled through the world as frequent as the wind. She had sat there for hours while the world slept, letting her imagination run wild after a day of lessons by her mother, manners, quiet, and restraint.

Jocelyn flipped to the next page and stopped, her hand shaking just a bit as she stared at the picture of the night sky drawn so carefully on the pages. That had been the page she stopped at so many years ago. She laid her head down on her arm, staring at the lines on the page, her body restful and heavy. She closed her eyes, letting the memory of that night continue playing in her mind.

The thunder had rattled so hard overhead it had shaken the table. Young Jocelyn jumped, looking all around as if she wasn't sure whether it was thunder or God himself coming down to catch her in her secret literary rendezvous. When the lightning shimmered outside and the next boom hit, young Jocelyn had slammed the book shut, thrown it on the shelf, and hurried back to her chambers. As she rounded the corner, she was just in time to catch Blair opening her door, holding sweet baby Aoife in her arms. Blair had always been their safety, even before that night, and Aoife had hurried into her room and climbed on the bed, gripping the covers.

The thunder seemed to go on forever, though through the years Jocelyn had realized that the storm hadn't been that long, it had just felt that way to her child's mind. The memory shifted and skipped, the remembrance hazy in some places. Blair had left them there, seeing their father riding up on horseback, and Jocelyn had pulled Aoife into her lap, hugging her tightly. She had hummed a song that night to calm Aoife, and only realized the thunder had come to an end when a piercing scream echoed in its place.

Jocelyn's eyes shot open, staring at the hand-drawn picture on the book beneath her. She had fallen asleep, but even after sitting up, she couldn't get her mind to wake up enough to stop the echoing scream from her dream. However, as one scream stopped and another began, Jocelyn suddenly realized they weren't from her dream at all. There was a woman screaming in the keep.

Fear gripped Jocelyn as she stood up, knocking her chair over behind her. She tightened her hands into fists and slowly walked to the library door, opening it just enough to see out into the hallway. To the right, there was nothing, but to her left, Jocelyn could see several guards and servants racing down toward the Laird's chambers. Both fearful and curious, Jocelyn crept down the hall, stopping behind two pillars that stood on each side, peaking around them.

"Nay, please," a woman cried, tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks.

Her hair was bright red and wildly curly. It was messy and small ringlets of curls bushing out and flowing over her shoulders and down her bare back. The woman was standing in the hallway outside of Jocelyn's uncle's chambers. She was barefoot wearing nothing but a thin dressing skirt, and holding her tunic against her bare chest. She was yelling and frantic, one of the guards gripping her arm tightly. She kept trying to turn and go back into the room, but each time the guard would angrily yank her back, shaking his head and sternly telling her something that Jocelyn couldn't hear. The only things she could hear were the tortured sobbing sounds coming from the woman's chest.

More servants were coming back and forth from the other hallways carrying trays of cloth, water, and some just creeping to the edge of the guards, finding out what was happening. Whatever it was, Jocelyn suddenly had a very bad feeling collecting in the pit of her stomach. One of the older servant women stepped up and spoke to a guard for a moment before he nodded, allowing her to approach the red-haired woman. The woman was sobbing to her and the older woman put her hands on each side of her face and whispered quietly to her. After a moment, the red haired woman began to calm, though her body was shaking with cold and emotion.

Realizing that whatever was happening, it had to do with her uncle, and it would more than likely draw Bram out of his drunken sleep, Jocelyn took a step backward, ready to head back to her room for safe keeping. Before she could move again, Maeve rounded the corner and grabbed Jocelyn by the wrists, pulling her to the side.

Maeve looked over her shoulder and back to Jocelyn, her expression full of fear. "Jocelyn, lass, what are ye doin' out 'ere?"

Jocelyn shook her head, pointing over her shoulder. "I couldnae sleep so I went tae the library, like I usually do. I guess I fell tae sleep in there and woke up tae screaming." Jocelyn pointed toward the Laird's chambers. "Maeve, what is going on? Who is that woman?"

Maeve looked back at her and then to the floor, closing her eyes for a moment to gather herself. When she looked back up at Jocelyn, her tone had softened and her face had become rigid. She pulled Jocelyn further away from the woman until they could no longer see them. "That's the Laird's mistress, Eila. She's been his mistress fer many years, but most dinnae see her when she comes in late at night. But, Jocelyn, that's nae important now." Maeve shook Jocelyn's hands, forcing her to pull her attention back. "Jocelyn, listen tae me. The Laird is dead."

Jocelyn froze, her whole body stiffening. Everything around her went hazy as the words from Maeve's lips sunk deeper and deeper into her head. Her sisters' faces flashed through her mind, and the undeniable reality of what the Laird's death meant came screaming to the forefront. Everything she had set up, every moment of preparation, every inkling of hope they would make it from the keep alive and be able to escape her cousin's wrath crumbled inside of her. She knew she needed to move, to get out of that hallway, but she just couldn't. She could feel the tightness of Maeve's hands on her arms and it was the only thing keeping her grounded in that moment.

"Jocelyn," Maeve whispered. "Jocelyn, ye have tae get out of the hall and back tae yer room. Jocelyn!"

Maeve shook Jocelyn hard, finally pulling her from whatever fear trap she had landed in. Jocelyn blinked wildly, looking at Maeve as if she wasn't even sure where she was. Maeve took a deep calming breath and turned Jocelyn, walking her to the end of the hall. "Ye have tae get back tae yer room. Get yer sisters and bring them tae yer chambers. I'll be there as soon as I can, as soon as I find out what happened. Do ye understand?"

Jocelyn swallowed hard, shaking the haze away. "I understand."

"Good, go," Maeve replied, giving her a light push toward the direction she needed to head.

Jocelyn began walking slowly, but with every step, her heart began to beat faster and faster until she was nearly running through the maze of hallways to her room. Every turn brought her closer to her sisters, and she felt no tiredness or weariness. As she turned the next corner, Bram stepped out from the shadows. Jocelyn put her arms up but couldn't stop, slamming right into him. He grabbed her by the arms, keeping her from falling back.

"I'm starting tae understand how ye and yer sisters have been gettin' around the keep so quietly all these years," he said.

Jocelyn lifted her chin and stared past him, feeling his hands gripping her arms tightly. Two of his men stood behind him, chuckling. Bram leaned in and pursed his lips next to her ear, whispering to her. His breath on her skin felt like fire and rolled nausea through her stomach.

"Go on now, hurry back tae yer sisters. Things are lookin' a bit different around here. Excitin' times."

As Bram released Jocelyn from his grip, she looked him in the eyes with confusion. He smirked, chuckling as he looked back at his men. How could he be so calm with his father's death? Bram was a horrible man, but the Laird was his family after all. Jocelyn wondered if he knew yet. It didn't matter though, she had to get to her sisters. If he didn't know, he would soon, and then the chains that bound him would be released. They were chains he was waiting to use on the sisters.

Jocelyn didn't want to let the thought enter her mind but she was no longer able to keep it away. She couldn't help them anymore, not with the Laird dead. Jocelyn knew that her and her sisters were no longer safe at the keep. They were no longer promised a tomorrow.