Of Thorn and Thread (Daughters of Eville #4) - Chanda Hahn Page 0,15
I doubted it.
“What just happened?” Liam said in disbelief.
I couldn’t answer. I stumbled out of the alley as I was also forced to relive the same nightmares simultaneously. There were so many. I collapsed on the ground, pressed my forehead into my knees and cried.
Chapter Five
A hand patted my back awkwardly, and I rolled my head to the left and stared at Liam. He sat next to me on the ground and held a handkerchief out to me.
“Here.”
I didn’t want his fake sympathy.
“Go away,” I said. “I don’t need a heroic-ridden knight to rescue me.”
“Well, actually, you were right. You didn’t need my help. You handled yourself quite well. Although, your tactics were a little unorthodox. You could have taken him out well before I arrived if you had the right kind of training.”
I couldn’t believe him. He was insulting me all over again.
Liam sighed, and his hand lifted from my back. “But it seems that this heroic knight needs you.”
I snorted. Grabbed his handkerchief, thoroughly blew my nose, and handed it back to him. He took it and stared at it in disgust.
“Well maybe you shouldn’t offer it to a lady if you don’t expect her to use it,” I snapped.
I stood up, wiped off my skirts and searched around the area for my basket. The basket was crushed, but most of the items were salvageable. I kneeled in the dirt to put the items back in.
“Here.” He handed me the packaged linen. I took it without looking at him. I reached for the bag of flour and our hands collided as he picked it up. I pulled my hand back, and he looked up into my eyes, noticing their pale color.
He gasped; the flour fell from his hands and back onto the ground.
I shook my head and pushed him away when he tried to help.
“Leave me,” I said.
“I can’t. For I need your help.” He followed close behind.
“We’ve given you all the help that we can. You must go.” I pointed down the road.
“You don’t understand. It’s life or death.”
“Not my problem.”
He stopped in his tracks. His shoulders dropped. “You’re right. It’s not your problem, but mine and mine alone.” His voice dripped with pain and his turmoil.
I slowed and looked upon his aura. So pure and filled with righteousness . . . and then pain. Something terrible had befallen him and his people, and I was letting the rude way he treated me on our first meeting define my opinion of him. Did we not daily deal with the same stigma and mistreatment by the townspeople?
I sighed and turned back to him. Brushing my hair out of my face. “But my mother has no desire to help your kingdom—ever.”
His aura darkened with pain and despair. I had to leave before guilt persuaded me to do something stupid. Like help him.
“I’m sorry, I really wish there were a way for me to help,” I called out, as I gathered my skirts and quickly departed. I knew without looking back that he watched my hasty retreat. “But there’s really nothing I can do.”
The way was blocked.
Fog surrounded me. So dense I could barely see more than an arm’s length in front. Threatening growls and snapping of dried branches made me jump. I spun in a circle and could hear a laughter echo around me, taunting me. I tried to move through the fog, but branches and thorns snagged my clothes. Clouds moved away from the moon, and in the distance I saw the forlorn castle. My goal. The fog closed in, swallowing me.
I woke up.
Sweat beaded across my brow and my hands were clammy. I rubbed my forehead and tried to make sense of the dream. Except I knew it wasn’t my dream. It was someone else’s dream that merged into mine. But whose?
I tossed and turned in my bed most of the night. But there was a heaviness in the air—guilt. I flung off my blanket and tiptoed down the stairs into the main room. A low fire was burning in the stone fireplace, and I saw the small dust pile swept into the corner, and the quivering form of Clove as she hid in the shadow of our bookcase.
“It’s just me, Clove,” I whispered, as I set about the kitchen gathering herbs before stepping into my mother’s workroom to pilfer a white candle. When I had everything I needed, I moved to the front door and headed into the night.