Untamed {Mature Reading}

Chapter V

The priestess had fled the Laird's chambers with little knowledge on how to return to her rooms. Moira had been skillful in her ways of confusing her, but then, the castle was so bare and so vast that there was little chance of knowing, regardless.

A few servants had passed her, giving her curious glances but otherwise didn't comment on her visibly shaken appearance. Perhaps shaken and distressed looking women were a common occurrence.

Bianca shuddered, hugging herself as she tried not to wince at the strange fabric against her skin. There was no place safe here – everything strange and different and not her home.

Home.

Tears burned her eyes, falling thick and hot down her chilled cheeks. She could somehow return to the land, maybe, but what else was there? The charred remains of homes that had no one to occupy them. Fields for no one to tend to, bodies lay rotting with no one to give them a proper burial. What would be the point to return now when everything that had made her land a home had been butchered by the savages and their cruel ruler?

Bianca had seen so much destruction and violence in the past few weeks that Callum Lockhart should have meant nothing to her, his snarls and vile words should have not brought such pain and tears. But they did.

And our Fates are intertwined, the thought made her stomach turn. Visions flared in her mind, both clear and murky. Things she knew and things she didn't, but soon will. As much as she did not want to believe in what she had seen, in the gifts that had allowed her to see what she had, Bianca knew better than to deny the visions and those who were sending them.

She slowed her pace, looking about her.

Nothing seemed familiar. Or rather, the castle looked the same at every turn. It was strange that asides from the servants, she hadn't come across any guards. Perhaps she could walk right out of this wretched place and no one would know. But then, a lone woman wandering a strange land was indeed a concoction for trouble. Besides, if the Scots were anything to by with what she had experienced in the last few weeks, perhaps she was safer with the Devil she knew. Though, safe would be the operative word.

To Bianca's left was a set of oak doors, one slightly ajar to reveal the orange glow of light of a lit fire. Part curious and part cold, she drifted closer, tentative, like a moth to the flame. The room was empty, save from the mass collection of books that line the walls. A library. Stepping further into the room, Bianca noted that whilst the fire was lit, a worn armchair residing proudly next to it, there was no one there to bask in the warmth.

Her fingers trailed along the bound spines of the books, some old and frail and others new and pristine. The heat of the fire mingled with the alluring must of the ink and pages, a heady scent. Bianca closed her eyes and smiled a first real one to grace her lips in many weeks. The book she had read in the past were limited, what had been passed down through the generations save from the odd traveler who would gift her with something new for food and sanctuary. To be surrounded by many new titles, new stories, and knowledge.

She looked behind her as if half expecting Callum or one of his guards to be waiting for her, ready to drag her off to somewhere vile. But there was no one.

Bianca turned back to the rows of books, noting that many bore the new common language, the letters the same but in a different order to make words that Bianca could only speak, but not read; English.

Her fingers trailed over the gold lettering, some right and new, others faded and almost lost.

Sighing, the captive priestess turned away, even though a part of her longed to read whatever stories or knowledge the woven in their text. Instead, the weary brunette moved towards the chair closest to the burning fire, eyes heavy and sore as sleep beckoned her.