“He doesnae plan to bring anythin’ back.”
“Then that means he isnae in the Castle. He’s somewhere out there and he doesnae plan to bring anythin’ back. Is he waitin’ for me somewhere?”
“Ye are quite good at this, Miss Jonet.” Freya had a smile in her voice.
Jonet went on confidently. She watched the shadows stretch along the ground as the sun steadily continued to rise. Any lingering fatigue she had felt was gone. Her body was now thrumming with excited energy.
“Is it the pool?” she asked.
“Nay.”
“The loch?”
There was a pause. Then a rush of air in what sounded oddly like a sigh.
“Aye, Miss Jonet. Ye’ve already figured it out. Mr. McDulaigh is waiting for ye at the loch. It seems he has somethin’ planned, but he dinnae tell me the details of it.”
“Oh, he’s so wonderful.” Jonet sighed. She hardly felt the slight throbbing of her scalp as Freya coaxed the other side of her hair into small braids. “And to think that I was so opposed to him when he first came here. I thought he had somethin’ terrible up his sleeve, ye ken? I was completely against him because I couldnae trust him and that much-too-perfect smile. Now, I daenae ken if I can imagine me life without him.”
“Do ye think he will propose again?”
“I think so. I hope so.” She did not want to get her hopes up, but it hardly mattered. Proposal or not, she was happy that she would be spending the day with him. After the threat had been taken care of too, when she would not need to be looking over her shoulder wondering where the next arrow would be coming from, she would be even happier to stay by his side.
“I couldnae be happier for ye,” Freya started on the back of her hair, pulling all the braids together into one large braid that would sit heavily in the center of her back. “Ye have a love that many would envy.”
Jonet said nothing. Her mood fell a bit, but she did not want Freya to notice. It was true that she had such a love, one that she would cherish for the rest of her life. Yet it was certainly a love that was envied, and that envy had taken away pieces of her heart bit by bit over the past six years.
Silence settled over them as Freya finished her styling and helped Jonet into her dress. As time went on, Jonet’s excitement came rushing back and when it was time for her to set out to see him, she could not hold it in. She smiled at nearly everyone she went by, gave Fenella a stunted apple before mounting her and, with Freya following on another steed, she set out towards the loch.
“Did Matthew say he wanted ye to escort me?” Jonet asked once the Castle was growing distant behind them.
Freya did not look at her. Her horse had gone a little ahead and Jonet could now only see the side of her, her jaw set.
“Aye,” she said. “He wished for my help with somethin’ but I willnae stay. Once that is finished, I will give ye two yer privacy.”
That only made Jonet wonder all the more what could be in store for her. She was lost in her thoughts, her mind a whirlpoo
l of possibilities that she did not say much as they continued their way there. Freya did not seem to mind the silence. In fact, the few times Jonet had looked at her, Freya looked just as deep in thought as she was.
When the shine of the loch could be seen in the distance, Jonet’s heart began to race. She nearly took off, but she calmed herself and continued at the normal pace. As they drew nearer, she began to scan the bank, looking for Matthew, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is he?” Jonet asked.
“Ye should be patient, Miss Jonet,” Freya’s voice was a little sharp. She reached the bank first and had already dismounted by the time Jonet did.
Confusion bled through Jonet.
She drew nearer, searching for signs of Matthew and found none. The shimmery water was still. Stones crunched under her feet as she walked to the very edge, half wondering if Matthew might have been hiding underneath. It was a foolish thought, but she could not help but check.
Only her reflection shone back at her, bearing her confused face and her foolish expression. Then everying sank into place.
Jonet’s blood ran cold. She froze, not daring to move, listening to any sound behind her. It was as if the world had stopped moving too, save for the gentle wind that whistled by. She did not want to turn around, did not want to face the truth that she should have figured out a long time ago. Jonet prayed that she was wrong and that her suspicious thoughts were baseless and stupid.
Slowly, she turned, listening to those crunching stones that cracked as sharply as whips in her ears. Her eyes lifted, up from the ground, past Freya’s waist and up to her sneering face.
“Ye really are quite foolish, ye ken,” Freya said.
Jonet could hardly breathe. In her hand, Freya held a bow and arrow, and the nock was drawn, with an arrowhead pointed directly at her heart.