Chapter 39

CHAPTER 39

M inutes turned into hours of riding, and Jonathan knew that he would need to stop very soon. Exhaustion was slowly taking hold of him, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. He had to stop and rest, if only for an hour or so. The journey northward had been long and arduous, and he was slowly succumbing to fatigue. As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, he spotted the welcome sight of another inn, its sign creaking gently in the breeze.

He guided his horse to a halt and dismounted with a weary sigh, his body protesting the effort. The inn's fa?ade was modest but inviting, a beacon of respite in his relentless search. He slowly made his way to the entrance, his eyes searching for any signs of Ciara or Mother Superior.

As soon as he entered, the murmur of conversation filled his ears. Jonathan approached the bar where the innkeeper was polishing a glass, his gaze sweeping over the patrons.

In a quiet corner sat a nun, her habit a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere around her. Her demeanor was demure, her head bowed in contemplative silence. She didn't look anything like the frightening woman he had been told about. Then again, everyone had the capability of pretending to be something they were not when circumstances forced them to.

Could it be? He wondered silently to himself. Even if it wasn't Mother Superior, perhaps it was someone else, someone traveling with them, someone who had perhaps seen them. In any case, just seeing her offered him the confirmation that he needed that he was on the right track.

Jonathan's heart quickened with a spark of hope. He approached the nun with a measured stride, his face etched with both fatigue and determination. "Excuse me, Sister," he began, his voice carrying a note of urgency, "I am searching for a woman who may have passed through here. She is the abbess of St. Catherine's Nunnery. And there is a young woman with her… have you perchance seen them?"

The nun looked up from her reflection, her eyes soft and round with surprise. She offered a small, hesitant smile. "I am sorry, sir, but I do not recall seeing any other woman in cloth apart from myself."

Jonathan's hopes began to wane, but he pressed on, hoping against hope that he might have missed something. "Are you certain? She is a tall, stern woman, quite distinguished. I am on a very important matter and any information about her or the young woman accompanying her could be crucial."

The nun's gaze lowered once more, her fingers nervously twisting the edges of her habit. "I am afraid I have not seen anyone matching that description, young man. I've been here but a short time myself, so perhaps you should inquire with the innkeeper."

"Yes, I shall do so, thank you," Jonathan nodded gratefully, turning away from the nun and heading back to the innkeeper. Jonathan's weariness faded as he approached the man with a new sense of urgency. The innkeeper, polishing a glass behind the bar, looked up as Jonathan addressed him.

"Good evening. Have you seen a nun traveling with a young woman? I'm searching for someone very important, and any information could be vital."

The innkeeper's brow furrowed in thought. "I'm afraid I haven't seen anyone fitting that description. However, just a short while ago, someone mentioned spotting a nun traveling on a jail coach not far from here."

Jonathan's heart raced at the mention of the jail coach. He seized upon the information with a glimmer of hope. "A jail coach? How long ago was this?"

The innkeeper scratched his head, trying to recall. "About an hour ago, I believe. The person who saw it said it was heading north."

Without another word, Jonathan reached into his pocket, tossing a few coins onto the counter as a gesture of thanks. He turned sharply on his heel and dashed outside, his mind racing.

That had to be her! Jonathan couldn't believe that he had managed to catch up with them. His heart was racing like mad, beating inside his throat, and he could barely breathe with excitement and apprehension. But he knew that the most difficult part of the mission still lay ahead of him. He doubted that Mother Superior would just give Ciara back to him. Regardless of what he had to do, he would bring Ciara home. He had vowed to do so.

Jonathan mounted his horse with practiced speed, his exhaustion forgotten in the face of this new lead.

As Ciara found herself in the carriage cell again, the melody of her grandmother's song still echoed faintly in her mind. That was the only thing keeping her sane.

The sudden, ominous growl of thunder drew her gaze to the barred window through which she could see dark, roiling clouds gathering in the sky.

As if in response to the foreboding sky, a fierce storm broke out with a suddenness that took her breath away. The rain began in torrents, pounding against the window with a relentless intensity. The wind howled through the narrow opening, carrying with it the scent of rain and the distant rumble of thunder.

Ciara could hear the commotion outside—the coachman was cursing under his breath, his frustration audible even through the storm's fury.

Mother Superior's voice cut through the storm's din, sharp and authoritative. "Mind your language!" she scolded, her tone stern and uncompromising. "We will not be deterred by a mere storm."

The coachman's muttered curses continued, drowned out by the roar of the wind. As the storm intensified, the road outside began to transform. The steady downpour turned the path into a quagmire of mud and slush, each wheel of the coach sinking deeper into the mire with each passing moment.

The coach swayed violently as it struggled to maintain its course, the horses straining against the thickening mud. The rain lashed against the windows, obscuring Ciara's view but amplifying the sense of chaos and turmoil outside.

In her cell, Ciara's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and anticipation. The storm, though frightening, seemed to offer a glimmer of hope. Perhaps the tempest could delay their progress or even cause an opportunity for escape. The violent upheaval of nature felt like a cruel twist of fate, yet it also presented a chance for salvation.

Amidst the storm's roar, she could faintly hear Mother Superior's voice raised in urgent concern.

"There's a large branch fallen across the road!" Mother Superior's voice pierced through the clamor, laced with alarm. "Be careful!"

The driver's curses and the frantic sound of his attempts to control the horses grew louder. The thunder crashed once more, its reverberations more deafening than before. The sheer volume of the storm's assault startled the horses, their panicked whinnies cutting through the tumultuous noise.

Ciara pressed her back against the wall of her cell, her heart racing as the sounds of the struggle outside reached fever pitch. She could hear the coachman's desperate shouts, his voice strained and desperate as he tried to calm the frenzied animals.

Without warning, the coach lurched violently. The force of the impact with the fallen branch was immense.

The sudden jolt threw Ciara forward with brutal force. She was propelled against the side of the carriage, the sharp pain of the collision striking her head with a force that blurred her vision.

The world spun as her senses dimmed, the storm's roar fading into a muffled, distant noise. Her body crumpled to the floor, and the darkness quickly overtook her.