She turned away from Shaela, wishing the task was behind them instead of something yet to be faced.
The ship anchored within easy distance of the cove’s southern arm. The northern arm had wharves for merchant ships and fishing vessels; the southern arm grudgingly accommodated visitors. Piers jutted out from the land in such a way that rowed boats sent out from larger ships could discharge their passengers, but the stairs that connected the piers to the land above made use of what nature had provided, and the uneven lengths and heights of the steps were a punishment for anyone with a weak leg.
Shaela said nothing as they climbed the stairs, but it was clear her bad leg wouldn’t hold up to the strain if they had to scramble around a hillside with the girl.
Maybe I could suggest she remain behind with Brighid, Merrill thought, slipping an arm companionably through Shaela’s—an unspoken apology for being snappish earlier and unobtrusive support as they made their way to the stables where a horse and buggy could be rented for the day.
She hadn’t told the ship’s captain the reason for this visit to Raven’s Hill—or who she was visiting—but any man who sailed out of Atwater knew about Brighid—and why she no longer lived on the White Isle. So Merrill wasn’t surprised when the men who had accompanied them as far as the stable didn’t offer to go farther.
After paying the stable fee, Merrill climbed into the buggy, collected the reins, and made sure Shaela was comfortably settled before giving the horse the command to move forward. The cottage was no more than a mile outside the village proper, nestled at the bottom of the hill. It was in the center of a modest acreage that could have provided the family with a respectable living if there had been more than a girl and a woman to work the land.
She had visited twice before—once shortly after Brighid had settled into the cottage and again three years ago, when Brighid, on behalf of her niece, had requested that a Lady of Light come to Raven’s Hill to test the girl.
It had become clear in that brief meeting that becoming a Lady of Light and living on the White Isle was Caitlin Marie’s all-consuming dream and ambition. And it was just as painfully clear that something lived inside the girl that was at odds with that dream and ambition. Something that would not be welcome on the White Isle.
The girl was as tainted as her brother. Some things came through the bloodlines and never could be washed away.
Guardian of Light, cleanse my thoughts of such unkindness. The children cannot be blamed for their nature, and they have never used it for harm. But…I would not want one of their kind on the White Isle.
“We’re here,” Shaela said when the cottage came into sight.
As the horse’s pace brought them closer and closer to success or failure, Merrill thought about those first two visits. Then, the hill looming behind the cottage had struck her as menacing, as if an ill-spoken word was all that was needed to bring the hillside down on the people living in its shadow. Now that same hill struck her as protective, as if it guarded something precious.
Which impression was closer to the truth? Or had the strain of the journey turned her mind to fanciful imaginings?
When they reached the cottage, Shaela climbed down and attached a lead to the horse’s bridle, tying the other end to the hitching post. As Merrill secured the reins and set the brake, she caught the movement of a curtain falling back into place. A moment later, the cottage door opened, and Brighid, looking older and more careworn than Merrill had expected, stepped outside to greet them.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?” Brighid asked with cold politeness.
You know why we’ve come. Merrill searched Brighid’s face but found no sign of welcome. And that sharpened her sadness over the necessity of coming here. They had been friends once, sisters in the joyous work of nurturing the Light. Now two children, especially the girl, stood between them.
“We need your help,” Merrill said. The girl suddenly appeared in the doorway, her blue eyes bright with hope when she caught sight of them. No, not a girl anymore. Eighteen now, wasn’t she? A woman come into her power. Whatever it might be.
Pretending she didn’t see the hope, she kept her eyes fixed on Brighid. “We need Caitlin’s help.”
“For what?” Brighid asked warily.
So. Brighid was going to hold a grudge, wasn’t going to bend even now.
“There are two plants we need for a…prayer…circle. They do not grow on the White Isle. We thought Caitlin, with her skills, could acquire them for us.”
Hope burned away in Caitlin’s eyes, replaced by bitterness. “So the Ladies of Light require the help of a sorceress.”
“That is not a word to be bandied about,” Shaela said sharply.
“Maybe not,” Caitlin replied just as sharply, “but I want to hear her say it. She’s so good at speaking the truth, let her speak it now.”
“I have a name,” Merrill said.
Brighid raised a hand, silencing Caitlin before the girl could reply. “What do you want?”
We have no time for a battle of wills. Can’t you feel it, Brighid? Evil is already drifting among us.
“Heart’s hope—and belladonna,” Merrill replied.
The small jerk of Brighid’s body gave Merrill hope, but Caitlin’s expression showed no sign of yielding.
“Those plants don’t grow around here,” Caitlin said, as if that ended all possibility.
“But there is a place nearby where unusual plants grow,” Merrill insisted. “I could accompany you and help—”
“You aren’t welcome there.”
“Caitlin Marie!” Brighid turned on her niece. “I understand your disappointments and why a wounded heart makes for a bitter tongue, but that is no reason to forget your manners.”
“So they should get whatever they want from me just for the asking?”
Girl and aunt stared at each other, and Merrill had the uneasy feeling they were no longer talking about plants.
Then Brighid sighed and rested a hand against Caitlin’s cheek. “No,” she said. “You should get the Ladies what they need because I’m asking. And because this is more important than any one person.”
Caitlin hesitated, then bobbed her head once in agreement. “For you, then.” She disappeared into the cottage. A few moments later, they all heard the back door slam.
“We came at a difficult time,” Merrill said soothingly, wondering if she and Shaela were going to stand outside for however long it took Caitlin to retrieve the plants, or if Brighid would stand by her own words and remember her manners.
“Manure has its uses, Merrill, but it never smells sweet,” Brighid replied tartly. “Don’t spread it here.”
So much for stepping around the point of contention that had bruised their friendship. Not broken it, though. She wouldn’t believe it was truly broken. Someday Brighid would be free to come back to the White Isle…and Lighthaven. “The girl doesn’t belong on the White Isle. I stand by the decision I made three years ago. She isn’t one of us, Brighid. She never will be.”
Brighid leaned against the door frame. “A young man from the village called last week. Asked Caitlin to go walking in the moonlight—the first who has ever done that since she’s considered ‘strange.’ He made her an offer.”
“Oh.” Merrill smiled. A wounded heart and an offer? Yes, that could explain the sharpness of Caitlin’s temper. “Well, young women are often afflicted with nerves and quarrel with their lover before the wed—”
“He made her the kind of offer no woman with pride or heart would accept.”
“Ah.” Merrill’s face heated with embarrassment, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Shaela turn away, head down, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.