Page 57 of Highlander’s Haunted Past

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Kenna stood at the gates of Aberdeen and stared out at the rolling hills beyond. The sky was cloudy, and the wind was so cold that it managed to bite through her thin blue cloak. The best days of fall were gone, and winter was on the horizon.

“Nothing,” she exclaimed. “There is nothing out there but the empty road and a handful of riders off in the distance. No army.”

Florence walked up beside her, shivering. “But I ken they’ll come back today. I just ken it. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Do we need to have ye examined by a healer? Bones that can sense the movement of armies is quite the peculiar symptom,” Kenna said through chattering teeth.

“‘Tis still early—perhaps we will be able to see them this evening,” Ellen said, putting herself between Florence and Kenna before Florence had the opportunity to make some retort.

Ellen, of course, did not look cold at all. She was the only one of the three that had been sensible enough to dress in a heavier cloak.

“Aye! I bet ye are quite right,” Florence said, shooting Kenna a look of happy defiance.

Kenna rolled her eyes. For the past week, Florence had swept down the stairs of the inn every morning, declaring that it would be the day the army finally returned. Every day for the past week, she had been wrong. Today, when she had made a similar proclamation, though, she had seemed oddly sure of herself, oddly wise and knowing. She was dressed in a fine maroon dress and her favorite gold earrings, telling Kenna and Ellen that she was headed to the gates to see the men marching down the road. How could Kenna and Ellen resist the temptation of going along?

Kenna had known that it was not likely to be true, but a bloom of hope had still sprouted in her chest. She had rushed up to her room and changed into one of her better dresses before they had left: a green cotton dress that was just a bit too tight in the places where it mattered, with a simple crossing of red ribbon at the bodice. It was one of the only dresses she had brought with her from Inverness that Florence had actually liked, and she could always catch a few men staring at her whenever she wore it. Rob, hopefully, would like it just as much—but also insist on taking it off of her.

She blushed at the thought. Who was she becoming?

“‘Tis her, over there. The one in the blue cloak. Do not all look at once, foolish lasses.”

Kenna’s eyes flicked to the right, to a group of five women all gathered around each other. They seemed to be taking turns at glancing over their shoulders to stare at Kenna.

Do they think ye’re both a traitor and blind?Kenna wondered, a bit bemused.

“I canna believe she is out here. ‘Tis so inconsiderate to the rest of us and our feelings,” one of the other women said.

A traitor, blind, and deaf, apparently.

Perhaps Kenna should just walk over there and greet them, ask them how their morning was going. They would probably soil themselves on the spot.

If Kenna had been merely distrusted before, she was positively hated now. When the men left, nearly all of the noble wives had donned black and gone around acting as if they were already widowed. They glared at her through their dark veils when she walked by and hissed some complaints, many of them asking how it was possible for the Queen to allow her to roam about the city freely. But what did they think Kenna could do now? Even if she was still loyal to the Gordon cause, which she certainly was not, the men had left seven days ago. What news could she possibly share with Huntly? What secrets and court tidings could possibly interest him more than the army marching upon him?

“There are so many people here,” Ellen said softly, spinning in a slow circle so that she could examine the entirety of the crowd gathered at the gate, though Kenna saw her eyes linger a bit longer on the whispering women to their right than they had lingered anywhere else.

That is how ye stare at someone without being noticed, Kenna thought, hoping that at least one of the other woman had understood what Ellen had done and would use that strategy for themselves the next time. Kenna would hate for them to continue to embarrass themselves.

“Strange, is it not? I wonder why everyone comes here,” Florence replied, though she seemed to take in the thrum of people with pleasure compared to Ellen and Kenna’s distress.

“Very much so. Well, we should head back to the inn; ye two are going to catch yer deaths in those thin cloaks,” Ellen said.

Florence and Kenna both nodded and turned to go, Kenna keeping her head low as they began to work their way through the throngs of rich and noblewomen. The gates of Aberdeen had become the newest social hub of the city. Apparently, women would come and gather there every day—or so they had been told by the innkeeper. Some would just stand there as if they were made of stone, tearfully looking out at the road beyond. Others would give the road just a glance before they wove their way through the various clusters, mingling and gossiping and sneaking sips of wine from the flasks hidden under their cloaks.

When they got back to the inn, Florence scurried over to stand beside the fire and called for the innkeeper to bring them some lunch. He came out moments later with large, steaming bowls of stew, full of large chunks of carrot and onion. It was the perfect meal for the first cold day of the season and the women dug into the bowls as if they hadn’t eaten in days.

“What shall we do with the rest of our day?” Florence asked as soon as she had soaked up the last bit of broth with a hunk of bread. “We could head to those shops on the north end of town. There were hardly any nobles there to gawk at us the last time we went.”

“It would probably be prudent to stay closer to the inn, especially if ye are sure that the men will return today,” Ellen commented.

“Oh, Ellen, ‘tis not as if we wouldn’t find them here when we got back.” Florence pouted, clearly annoyed that her strange intuition was about to deprive her of an opportunity to leave the inn.

Kenna, on the other hand, was glad that Ellen had come up with the argument. Though nothing strange had happened since the incident with the snake, it still made Kenna nervous about leaving the inn for too long. She had already been dragged out once that day; she wasn’t sure she could do it again.

“Aye, but what, pray tell, is the point of going to the shops? Ye are either going to waste the merchants time by looking at their wares with no intention of buying them, or ye will actually buy them, which will be a waste of money since ye will likely not need whatever it is.”

Ellen knew it was a misstep as soon as she said it, and Kenna leaned her head onto the table with a groan.