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“Take me to her.”

“In time.”

Sorcha was frantic. “But she’s not safe—”

“Rosemary is with her, and the room is guarded. No harm will come to her. I swear it.”

“As you swore that she was not here?” she demanded, thrusting out her chin. “You are a pitiful ruler, Lord Hagan, for you cannot control those in your own castle, including your murdering brother.”

A muscle tightened in his jaw. His hands clenched and he looked angry enough to spit. “I’ll have fresh clothes for you and a bath brought—”

“I want none of your charity.”

“You’re a guest in this keep and—”

“Make no mistake, I’m a prisoner.”

When he seemed about to argue, she closed the distance between them, her feet whispering through the rushes. “Or if, as you say, I am a guest, then let me visit my sister. Surely no guest in the house of Erbyn would be locked in a room far away from the Christmas revels and her own sister.”

“ ’Tis not possible for you to walk the castle grounds by yourself,” he replied, his eyes cold and assessing.

“Why not?”

“Mayhap you have forgotten that you stole into the castle by telling falsehoods, that you tricked the cook and my guards, and that you sought to kill me while I slept.”

“Aye, but I had a purpose, m’lord. I knew my sister had been brought here. Taken prisoner. The least you could do, as ruler of this castle, is give us our freedom. Let us return to Prydd.”

“When your sister is well.”

Her heart turned to stone. The beast meant to keep them both here? Didn’t he know how dangerous it was for Leah to remain here? Desperation clawed at her. “You must let us leave before someone tries to kill her again.”

“Sorcha, Nichodemas found the knife that she used on her wrists. Lying on the floor. There is little doubt that your sister tried to end her own—”

“Last night you tried to convince me that she wasn’t here,” she said, unable to listen to any more lies. “You know not what goes on in this castle, Lord Hagan. You’ve been off to war, and many of your servants and knights have sworn their allegiance to your brother.” She was guessing now, but she’d seen the same betrayal at Prydd when her father was away.

“You doubt that my servants are loyal?”

“To you? Aye. I know as much.”

His eyes gleamed a little. “What else do you know, Sorcha? Hmm? Can you tell the future? Or are your powers limited to bringing those on the brink of death back to life? What kind of woman are you? Sorceress? Witch? One who truly has the power of the kiss of the moon? Or are you a fraud—a cheap magician who has tricked us all?”

When she didn’t answer, he stepped closer, his gaze searching the contours of her face as if studying a mystical puzzle. “What was that all about last night? How did you make the wind whistle and the fire dance?”

“I know not,” she admitted, her heart beginning to thunder within her rib cage.

“No? And yet your sister, who seems to be drawing her last breath, returns to life; her eyes open and she calls your name.”

“Mayhap it was my faith that she would live.”

“So now God is listening to you,” he said, his gaze lingering in hers.

She could barely breathe. The room seemed to grow smaller.

“Please, let me see my sister.”

For a moment he hesitated and his gaze lowered to her lips as if he might kiss her. Her

stomach pressed hard against her lungs, and her heart pounded like a hollow drum. “As soon as Nichodemas agrees.”


Tags: Lisa Jackson Medieval Trilogy Historical