A NAME TO A FACE
“Dougal!”
Joanna, lost in mist, screamed it. She could not move. Her feet were rooted to the ground. All around her, the mist wove in tendrils that held her fast. She could not reach him and he did not hear her call. However, she could see him perfectly.
Dougal, rooted as she was in place, only his eyes moving as they met her face.
She could see, too, with terrible clarity, the moment when the knife struck from behind.
It went into his shoulder, striking at the great vessel that pulsed there, beneath the skin. The man pulled the blade loose and blood, dark and life-giving, poured from it like a thick, black tide.
“Dougal,” she sobbed.
She saw his eyes cloud, saw his body fall forward, his fingers lose their grip and uncurl from the reins. He looked into her gaze as he died.
“No!” she screamed. She threw her head back, keening her loss to the skies.
As she did so, she saw him.
The man on the horse behind Dougal, the man who had killed him, who held, even now, the bloodstained weapon in his grip. He smiled at her.
He had Dougal's face.
A cry of horror on her lips, Joanna awoke. She found herself alone in her own chamber, the window bright with soft morning light.
“Hush, dear. Hush now.”
She turned. Alina was there. Her oval face tranquil, her skin pale with tiredness, her aunt Alina sat in a padded chair by her bedside. She must, Joanna realized, have sat there throughout the night.
“Alina?”
“Yes, dear. I'm here.”
Joanna let out a shuddering breath She could not have chosen better company, waking from dark dreams, than her aunt, who was also a seer. She reached for the hand that moved to take her own. She gripped her aunt's tapered fingers, so like her own. Healer's hands.
“Aunt,” she said. “I dreamed badly.”
“Yes, my dear. What dreams visited you? Tell me.”
Joanna drew in a shuddering breath. Tried to tell her. The horror was fresh and there were parts where she hesitated, not wanting to remember, in all its awful detail, what she saw. She had to.
“...and...and he cut through the vessels of his shoulder. I saw the blood. It was black, as the blood from veins.”
She knew as well as her aunt did how each detail was important. Small things could add to the meaning of a dream. Together, they had to make sense of this and that meant that she must leave nothing out.
When she had finished, Alina looked at her, clear dark gaze level.
“You saw nothing else?”
“No, aunt,” Joanna said softly. “I told you everything. I left nothing out.”
“The man. You have seen him before?”
“The other Dougal?” Joanna frowned. “Yes, I have.”
She did not ask how her aunt knew that. Sufficient that she did know, and sought to help them both.
Alina frowned. Her gaze seemed to go inward a moment, as if checking some detail in her own mind. She chewed her lip thoughtfully.
“You saw this man in dreams, heralding some wrong?”
“Yes, Aunt.” She paused. She had not mentioned a word of what was happening at the castle. Somehow, she had managed to avoid questions about the state of it, only referring to the fact that it was not as grand as it once was, nor as well-managed as it had been before. Of Dougal she said little, of the danger to him, nothing at all.
She cleared her throat. “The lord of the castle – Lord Dougal, son of your distant cousin Jeanne – he was attacked. Three times. Before the first attempt, I saw the man. Not in a dream, but in a vision. I saw his face overlay that of Lord Dougal. I thought it was him as he was in previous years. Perhaps it was. Now, I am not so sure. Why would I dream he killed himself? All his peril comes from without.”
Alina paused. She was very quiet. As Joanna laid there, her thoughts, which had been nagging at the edges of her mind, took flight.
She looked at Alina. She saw her aunt had reached exactly the same conclusion, in exactly the same moment.
“His brother.”
They said it together, numb with the horror of it.
It was so obvious! Joanna could scarce believe how she had failed to notice it earlier. Of course, it was Dougal's brother. He had mentioned him. Alec, or Adair or...Alexander.
“His name is Alexander Blackheath,” Joanna said softly.
Alina nodded. Then she sat quietly, clearly lost in thought. Joanna considered asking her what it was disturbing her, and then decided against it. Alina would tell her when she was ready. Right now, she was simply pleased for the comfort of the older woman's presence.
Neither of them said anything for a while. Outside, a bird called in the frosty silence of the morning, and a man shouted to a carter in the courtyard. Life went on around the silence held between them like an in-drawn breath. At length, Alina's frown cleared. The black eyes met Joanna's, tranquil and wise.
“He is not in danger for this time,” Alina said. “You fought off the last attempt, which would have killed him while he slept.”
Joanna nodded, wordlessly. “Thank you.”
She did not ask how her aunt knew that, simply glad that she did know. Without asking or judging, Alina seemed to have arrived at an understanding of the bond between Joanna and Dougal, as she reached for Joanna's hand.
“Your man is safe, for now. What you saw will come to pass, but the pattern has changed now. You have shed light on it, and changed that future. With perseverance, you will stop that event from happening.”
Joanna let out a shuddering breath and gripped her aunt's hand. That was the best news. She had not realized how deeply the dream of Dougal's death had shaken her – watching as he died, powerless to change it. She had changed it, or so Alina said. The relief was wearying in itself, and Joanna sat for a while, absorbing the information and planning what to do now that they knew.
“I should go to Buccleigh castle,” Joanna said after a long while. “If Alexander knows I know, he will have to desist, or face the weight of law.”
“You would risk yourself, my dear. I do not like to think of that. Though it is your right.” Alina smiled a little sadly.
Joanna felt a tug at her heart. Trust Alina not to hold her back, despite the toll it would take on her own heart if something happened!
“Thank you,” she said a little shakily. “I would not choose to risk myself, could I avoid it.”
“You could wait until we have concrete evidence,” Alina said. “And then confront him with the law.”
“I could,” Joanna agreed. She frowned. “But Dougal...would he want to see his brother exiled, or killed? I have seen how close he feels to Alexander.”
Alina's smooth brow creased momentarily with a frown. “True. But you should not go alone.”
“What proof could we have, Aunt?” Joanna asked in a small voice. “We know our dreams are correct, but how do we prove it?”
“There will be something,” Alina said softly. “It is him, and no one leaves no trace. Think and the answer will come. But now,” she added, looking up and to the window, “I do believe it's time to break our fast. The mind works best when unperturbed.”
Joanna smiled. Trust Alina to be so sensible, so grounded!
“Yes, Aunt. I am quite hungry, I must say.” Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food and she felt a stabbing pain there.
Alina grinned, suddenly a girl again, and bright-eyed with mischief. “Indeed! Me too. And if we hurry, perhaps we can get there before it's all gone.”
They both laughed.
Alina had helped Joanna dress – a gesture of tenderness that made Joanna's throat tighten with emotion.
“Alina?” Joanna asked, as her aunt fastened the buttons down the back of her green velvet gown.
“Mm?” A line had appeared between her aunt's brows – Joanna could see her in the mirror, concentrating on the buttons.
“Mother is well again, isn't she? I mean, really?”
Amabel, Joanna's mother, was known for her hearty constitution, a fact that made Joanna think that she might hide it if she really was ill.
Alina smiled. “Yes, she really is. I promise. She did not have the fever very badly – I think the thought of being in bed for three days made her get well!”
They both laughed.
As Alina finished the buttons and gave her hair a final brushing, Joanna thought about the journey to Buccleigh. If her mother was truly well, she and Alina could at least let her in on the secret. Perhaps her father could lend her some of the household guard. She would have to ask.
Alina laid down the comb.
“If we run, perhaps there'll be oats porridge left!”
Joanna laughed. Alina's austere appearance belied her weaknesses for certain foods, oat porridge with fresh butter being one.
“Yes,” she smiled “Run!”
They both laughed and, giggling like children, ran down the hallway to the warm welcome of the solar.
Breakfast was still being served, which was fortunate. Joanna ate three bannocks and Brodgar stared at her in a kind of awe.
“Even I can only eat two and a half!”
They all laughed.
Alina sat beside her daughter, listening to her bright voice with a serene smile. In front of her was a large bowl of oats porridge.
Joanna caught her eye and winked. She smiled back, one brow raised as if to ask what the fuss was about. Joanna laughed.
Since discovering who was behind the dark happenings at Lochlann, Joanna found her mood had lightened, and she felt unbridled joy for the first time in weeks. They had a plan.
All they needed was proof. It was there, she knew, simply waiting for them to recognize it.