It was rather sunny for a day in mid-Autumn, and Cora was in good spirits as she urged Hamish a little faster down the winding road that led to the village. She had a basket of food under her arm that she was bringing to Peggy — when she’d checked in on her a few weeks ago, she’d been looking a little malnourished, and nutrition was essential, especially toward the end of a pregnancy. There was a big container of eggs, some leafy green vegetables from the garden, some salted meat and a huge punnet of berries that she and Ian had picked on a long afternoon spent out in the countryside. Hopefully, it would help the young woman and her baby get a little bit stronger before the big day. Ian wasn’t with her — he had important things to discuss with Colin. There had been quite a few diplomatic problems since the incident with Cotswold — Weatherby, it seemed, was eager to keep the peace, but the disgraced Lord was not making it easy on anyone. A difficult situation, to be sure — Cora was glad to be riding out that morning. The men always got in such grumpy moods after they’d been talking politics. She and Audrina had taken to hiding from the men around the castle when they got in moods like that, giggling with each other like young girls as they ran through the castle as though being chased by bears.

Thank God for Audrina’s tenacity — she was still recovering from the birth, of course, but every time Cora examined her she was looking stronger and healthier. The incident with Cotswold had been a blow, of course, but she seemed to have been getting stronger ever since, as though out of spite. Riding a horse was still off the table, though, so as much as Audrina would have liked to accompany her down to the village, Cora was riding alone. She wore a bonnet low over her face, just in case she was recognized as Bellina again. But there had been very little sign of the Inquisitors that Lord Cotswold had bragged so much about, and Cora was beginning to cautiously hope that it had been an exaggeration — that the Inquisition had just passed through and continued on their way. He certainly was full of hot air — it wouldn’t have been out of character for him to have lied through his teeth about Inquisitors.

Hamish began to slow as they neared the village. Cora guided him to take the turn that would take them through the town square — Peggy and her husband lived on the other side, on a little farm that supplied a good deal of the town with fresh milk each day. Drink lots of milk yourself, Cora had told her — calcium was good for her growing baby, and the extra protein and fat in the milk would help keep her strong and hearty too as the birth grew nearer.

Hamish felt a little skittish as they began to near the town square. Wondering what was wrong with him — had she been pushing him too hard on the way down to the village? Perhaps he had a stone caught in his hoof? — She almost rode right into a gathering of people who were staring at something in the center of the square. Muttering apologies, she jumped down from Hamish’s back and tethered him quickly to a nearby post, pulling the bonnet low over her head as she joined the crowd to listen.

There, standing on a box at the front of the crowd, was a man in dark clothing — and a shock of recognition lanced through her entire body, making her shudder. Inquisition. Not a doubt in her mind. She couldn’t tell from his face whether he was one of the men who had tortured Bellina — she had made a point of not looking at her tormentors, especially toward the end — but sure enough, the English he spoke was heavily accented. Italian.

“Let it be known,” he was reading from a piece of parchment in his hands, his voice raised high above the disgruntled muttering of the town, “that an investigation will be made into accusations of witchcraft leveled at Maeve MacClaran and Cora Wilcox. These women stand accused of returning from the dead by unholy means, and propagating their sinful teachings throughout the town.”

Cora was in shock. She moved back through the crowd to Hamish, climbed on his back and urged him away. It was all she could do to take a side street to Peggy’s farm — she left the basket of food on the step, unable to face anyone right now. Her whole body was numb and her hands were shaking as she climbed back onto Hamish’s back. He whinnied, turning his neck around to nuzzle her leg worriedly — horses could always sense when there was something wrong. She had to get back to the castle. Had to warn Audrina. Had to speak to Ian and Colin, tell them that their worst fears had been realized.

Colin was furious. He stormed back and forth in the empty dining hall, alternatively roaring about the injustice, and fuming silently. Ian was withdrawn, pale — his hand kept going to the hilt of his sword, as though he could simply drive it through the problem. Audrina just looked grimly determined — Cora realized that she’d been expecting this, waiting for it, preparing. Oddly enough, that made her feel safer. At least this terrible news wasn’t a shock to her dear friend. And in a crisis like this, there was nobody she’d rather have on her side than Audrina.

“We can’t fight off the Inquisition,” Colin was saying, his teeth gritted. “We have to be seen to co-operate. The Church is too powerful — even Weatherby won’t be able to stop military force from being used to cow us into submission if we’re seen to be living in open defiance of God. Which, unfortunately, is what any resistance to the Inquisition is going to look like, no matter how diplomatically we try to handle it. Audrina, Cora, I’m so sorry, but they’re going to have to question you.”

“What do we say?” Cora murmured, aghast. “I’ve only been here for a month — what do I say when they ask me about my childhood? About my youth here?”

“We have some time,” Colin replied. “I can delay them for a week or two, tell them to speak to everyone in the village before they come for you two. In the meantime, we will figure out what can be done.”

“We’ll be okay, Cora,” Audrina told her, crossing over to squeeze her hand. “We can get through this. Together.”

Ian nodded his agreement, but Cora could tell that he had other ideas. There was an odd, closed look to his hazel eyes that she hadn’t seen before, and didn’t much like. She resolved to speak to him later, when they were alone.

“We need to go.”

They had just returned to his chambers after the evening meal — neither of them had been hungry at all after the revelations of the day, but it was important to keep their strength up, so she’d insisted on him finishing his plate. Cora had only just closed the door to his chambers behind them, and she turned around in surprise, not quite sure what he meant.

“Did you forget something?”

“No.” He strode over to the chest of drawers that held both of their clothing and began to take items out, piling them on the table.

“What are you doing?”

“We need to leave, Cora. Tonight. We need to flee this place. If we leave before midnight, we can be in Skye before the Inquisitors even know we’re gone. They won’t find us there if we tell nobody we’re going — and nobody there knew Bellina, so you’ll not be recognized.” He crossed to her, took her hands in his and gazed imploringly into her eyes. “This is our best chance of surviving, Cora. Please. Help me pack.”

“No!” She pulled her hands away, shocked at the suggestion that they flee. “Colin would never leave the castle, and neither would Maeve! This is their home!” He kept looking at her, seeming nonplussed, and her eyes widened. “Wait — you don’t mean that we should all flee. You’re suggesting that just you and I go. And leave them here to the Inquisitors.”

“Maeve will be fine,” he said, sounding a little defensive. “She’s been here two years — and been cleared once already. You and she got rid of all the herbs, so there’s no new evidence against her. They’ll question her, sure, but they won’t find anything. You, on the other hand —”

“So you’re perfectly happy to leave your liege lord’s wife to suffer through an interrogation? To possibly be tortured?” Cora took a step back from him, her eyes wide with disbelief and the beginnings of anger stirring in her stomach.

“You’ll not make it through an interrogation, Cora! You’re from the future — you’ve got no past here, no history — they’ll figure you out in a heartbeat. They’ll know, Cora. They’ll call you a witch and they’ll haul you out to a stake and burn you like they burned Bellina and there’ll be nothing I can do about it —”

“Coward,” Cora said flatly, her voice breaking through his like a blade. “I won’t run away and leave my friend just because you’re scared.”

Anger flared to life in his eyes, but she was already too furious to let it bother her. “You stubborn woman. I’m trying to save your life. You don’t know the English like I do — you don’t know what Inquisitors are like —”

Cora drew herself up to her full height, eyes blazing. “What did you just say to me? I don’t know the Inquisitors? I, who share the memories of a woman they tortured for weeks then burned alive? I don’t know what they’re like?”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, but his teeth were clenched. “But — please. Please, consider this. You’ll be safe in Skye — we can figure something out from there — please, I can’t lose you again.”

“I won’t run away,” she said flatly, glaring at him. “And I can’t believe you’d even suggest it. Leave Audrina here to burn? My best and oldest friend?”

“What about us?” His voice was desperate as he played what was clearly his last card. “What about me, Cora? We — we have something, together. In Skye, we could be happy. We could be wed — settle down, start a family of our own —”

She staggered back from him, aghast. “Ian — I can’t believe you. Are you asking me — seriously asking me to choose between you, and Audrina? Are you saying I should run away with you, and leave my best friend here to be burned?”

“I — no. No, but — Cora, please—”

“I’m going back to my chambers,” she said, her voice shaking with anger and hurt. “I suggest you take the evening to think about what you just asked me to do.”

She slammed the door hard behind her, trying not to think about the way his face had crumpled as she’d left, trying to fight back the tears that were standing in her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. Running through the castle blindly, she took wrong turn after wrong turn, frustrated and angry — and crashed into someone, who caught her by the shoulders and steadied her.

“Margaret?”

“Alright, little dove,” Margaret murmured, soothingly. “You’ve got to be careful on these uneven stones.”

“Margaret, I —”

“I’ll send one of the girls to set a fire in your room. Don’t fret.” Ever so gently, Margaret brushed a tear from her cheek. “Take heart, little one. We Scots have survived hundreds of years of opposition. You’ve got centuries of rebellion on your side.”

“Thank you, Margaret.” Cora took a deep, steadying breath.

Margaret inclined her head and moved off down the hall, ever graceful. And by the time Cora reached her room — her old room, she found herself thinking of it, a little sadly — there was a cheerful fire crackling in the grate. She kicked off her shoes, climbed into bed … and cried herself to sleep.