Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Preparing for the Yule Log gathering was somewhat of a relief to Aedan. It was a common Yule activity, but this time, he wasn’t going to lead. There was a curious freedom in not having to be responsible for guiding the party through the woods.

The air was crisp and cold, but the snow had stopped falling, and though the sky was somewhat overcast, it lacked the heavy gray clouds of the days before. It was almost ideal weather for seeking a Yule Log, and Aedan was grateful for the break in the storms. He didn’t think Lachlan Ross would have risked his own comfort and well-being for tradition’s sake, but he hadn’t wanted to find out he was wrong.

The ride and the effort of carving the log would also allow his sore muscles some much needed exercise. And, with any luck, he would be tired enough not to think too much about sleeping beside Thora, but not touching her, despite his ever-growing desire.

He was just finishing lacing up his boots, and his heavy winter cloak when Thora approached him, a serious look on her face. Aedan’s heart sank when he beheld her winter clothing, even before she said much dreaded words. “I need tae speak tae ye.”

Aedan sighed and waved to Laird Ross, tipping his head to indicate the cause of his delay. That earned him a knowing smile and some smirks - and would earn him more teasing later, he was sure - but the laird waved him away.

He followed Thora to an alcove. “What is it?”

“I need tae come with ye.”

“What?” He’d never heard of a woman going on the hunt for the Yule Log. It was an activity for men, and men only. Women stayed at the castle and sewed Yule gifts or assisted in the baking and decorating in other parts of the castle. They didn’t go out to wander the snowy woods.

“Did ye see something?”

Thora grimaced. “I… nae clearly. I just… I ken there’s danger out there in the woods, and something will go wrong. I dinnae see what, or when, only that it will, so I must go with ye.”

Aedan just barely managed to swallow a groan of frustration and disbelief. “Ye want me tae bring ye along on a task that is traditionally only fer males, with nay more explanation than ‘danger in the woods’?”

“Aye. Aedan, I ken…”

“Nay. Clearly ye dinnae. If ye kent anything at all, ye’d nae make such a foolish suggestion.” Aedan clenched his fist in frustration. “This is a man’s task. I cannae just bring me wife along. ‘Twould earn me mockery at best, insults most likely, and even accusations o’ bein’ a milksop or bringin’ bad luck tae the festivities. Nay. I’ll be watchful if ye wish, but ye’re nae comin’.”

“I ken ye’re frustrated. So am I. I wish this warning were clearer. But I cannae stay behind. Somethin’ terrible will happen if I dinnae come.”

“Ye dinnae ken that. Ye said ye’ve nay clear idea. Might just be nerves. The woods are never completely safe. Every man kens that.”

“This is different.”

“How?” Aedan met her gaze, his own challenging. “Tell me how. Otherwise, ye’re stayin’ here.”

“I cannae explain. But I ken what I ken. And if ye leave me behind, I will leave and follow ye on me own.” Her eyes met his own without flinching, and he saw in them her resolve to do as she’d said. She would follow them, no matter the consequences, if he refused her.

“And what if ye’re the reason bad luck or danger comes?”

“I willnae be. The danger is if ye go alone.”

“Ye’ve warned me. Is that nae enough?”

“Nay.” She seemed so assured, as if she saw it as clearly as she’d dreamed the child’s danger. He wanted to shake her.

He could accept dream visions. He’d seen the proof of that last night. But this? This was foolishness, he was sure of it. Worse, it was going to make them both look foolish. She would look possessive and desperate to cling to him. He would look like a weak-willed fool who hadn’t the spine to deny his wife anything. Both were unacceptable.

“And what excuse am I supposed tae give? I dinnae think ye want tae tell them about yer ‘gift’.” He couldn’t help sneering the word slightly, and he saw the flash of indignation in her eyes. “So what am I tae say?”

“Say I’m used tae goin’ with me braithers, and I was missing them, since ‘tis me first Yule without them. Say ye agreed tae indulge me, as a kindness, since I told ye it was likely the reason I was so irritable o’ late. There’s truth enough in it and I can see they’ll accept it.”

He wondered if that was true. “I’ll still look a weak-willed fool.”

“Tell them I threatened tae go out on me own again, and ye fear I’m headstrong enough and willful enough tae do so - and tae get lost and freeze or get everyone else frozen lookin’ fer me if me folly brings me grief.”

Well, at least that was true enough. It didn’t stop him from wanting to pour a sleeping potion down her throat and leave her in their room with an excuse of being ‘indisposed’. But she would fight him, and the last thing he wanted was to have another ‘quarrel’, this time for real.

“Fine. But on yer head be the consequences.”

He took her arm in a grip he knew looked fairly exasperated and led her back to the group of waiting lairds and their men-at-arms. He saw Mac raise an eyebrow and gave his friend a grimace in return before going to Lachlan Ross. “Laird Ross… forgive me fer this… but… me wife… she’s determined…”

As expected, there was some vocal disagreement, some smirks, and some outright sneering from the rest of the men. However, he managed to grit his teeth and present his argument - or rather, hers. Eventually, Lachlan Ross gave him a bemused and slightly exasperated smile. “I suppose one must keep a new wife happy. However, ‘twill be the responsibility o’ yer man at arms tae see her home when she gets weary o’ the day. I trust she understands, her whims may merit her inclusion, but they willnae determine the course o’ the day’s outing beyond that.”

“Aye, me laird. I’ll be sure she daes.”

And with that, they were on their way.

Once they were outside, past the gates, Mac stepped up beside him. “Me laird…”

“I ken. I wouldnae have chosen tae dae this. But ye ken why.” Aedan did not want to mention Thora’s powers where the words might reach Lachlan Ross’s ears. Or cause further comment among the other lairds.

“We’ll just have tae bear with her whims fer now, I suppose.” He gave Mac a rueful smile. “Mayhap ‘twill all be of use later.”

Mac nodded and dropped back to rejoin the other men-at-arms. Aedan increased his pace slightly to match the lairds’ and accepted a flask that was being passed around. It was full of strong whiskey, strong enough that it sent a few of the men coughing, but it warmed the blood. Aedan suspected that most of his fellow lairds thought the warmth was well worth the loosening of tongues and the hazing of wits that came with it.

He wanted to join them, to relax and joke and let himself simply exist for a time. He wasn’t responsible for the group - that was Lachlan’s duty, and that of his woodsmen. And yet, despite his dismissal of Thora’s gift, he couldn’t help watching her intently, watching the way she scanned the woods around her.

There was… something. He couldn’t understand, or make sense of, what it was he sensed, but there was something in her wary watchfulness that made him think of deer watching for wolves. Or prey animals on guard for hunters. There was a sense that she was watching every shadow, listening to every noise, as if her life depended on it.

She’d said that disaster would befall them if she didn’t come. But would it befall them, or her? What was she really afraid of? He didn’t know, but there was no denying that she was watching for something.

They walked for more than a candle-mark, perhaps two, until finally Lachlan stopped the group in a clearing of snow-covered evergreens and oak trees. “One o’ these should do, I think. Unless our lady has a different opinion?”

All eyes turned to Thora.

The danger was growing, it had been growing with every step they took. Thora was aware of the jokes, the sidelong glances, and Aedan’s skeptical silence beside her, but she paid little heed to any of it.

Every step increased the fear inside her and made her guts tighten with wariness. Every crunch of boots on snow, every laugh, every whisper of wind through snow-covered branches - they all spoke to her of danger. Danger yet unseen but real as a wolf’s fangs or a bandit’s sword.

She was so focused on her thoughts and feelings that she almost didn’t notice when they came to a stop in a clearing, or when Lachlan Ross addressed her. It was only Aedan’s huff of exasperation that alerted her to the fact that the laird had, in fact, been asking her opinion. “I…”

A cracking sound like ice breaking startled her and made all of them freeze in place. Thora’s foresight screamed in warning.

Then, with a sharp popping sound, like salt thrown in a fire but a hundred times louder, one of the large old evergreens cracked under the weight of snow and ice and age, cold bursting the sap inside. The tree lurched as the trunk snapped, bark exploding outward, then began to fall.

Straight toward the gathered men, who were too startled, and too hazed by cold and the liquor they’d consumed, to realize the danger.

The half-seen, half-felt vision snapped into place, and she saw the two men who would die, crushed by the falling trunk. Without thought, she dashed forward, feet sliding in the snow. As the tree tilted and began its descent, she flung herself forward, hammering into the men’s shoulders with all the force she could muster.

If they’d been prepared for the attack, or if the ground had been firmer, it wouldn’t have worked. But with the snow aiding her and their own shock keeping them from reacting, both men fell and went skidding across the clearing in a wave of churned earth and slush.

Thora gasped, winded by her own landing, and tried to roll out of the way of the falling tree. She couldn’t see clearly, and she’d skidded awkwardly… where was the tree… where…

Something hard and sharp caught her on the left side and shoulder and slammed her into the snow and mud. Thousands of needles pierced and scrapped at her skin, even through the fabric of her heavy winter garments. Then something heavier and sharper pierced her shoulder.

A branch, broken and sharp as a knife, went through her cloak and dress and deep into her shoulder, as well as cutting a long and jagged line across her upper arm. The pain was white hot and agonizing, and she bit her lip on a scream and tried to roll away. But she was pinned, and the tree was still falling.

Something caught her across the forehead, a blow like the one time she’d been unlucky enough to get clipped by a thrown rock during one of her brother’s rougher games. The shock and pain of it was too much for her, and Thora’s thoughts vanished like smoke in the wind as her mind spiraled into darkness.

The last thing she heard before awareness abandoned her completely was the sound of someone shouting something that sounded like her name.