Untamed {Mature Reading}

Chapter XXXIV

Alec was not the only one to try to come to Bianca's door that night. Moira, Stephen, Ms. Lowe, and even Angus had each tried to speak to her through the oak and each time, her unwanted guard would stop them. 

Callum did not come. And though the priestess had moved her furs to the door in the hope that she would hear his voice too, he did not come. 

Bianca tried not to feel the crashing waves of disappointment drown her from the inside out. She tried not to choke on the bitterness of it as it filled her mouth and coated her tongue. Whatever he was doing, he was trying to make things right. At least, that is what she told herself as her eyes grew heavy. 

The next morning, she awoke to the door unlocking. Quickly scrambling to her feet, Bianca stepped out of the door's way to allow her visitor to come through. 

She did not who to expect - she knew she hoped it to be Callum or Moira, a familiar face who would fill her with reassurance. When Marcelle came into view, her usual soft brown eyes were downcast, hands gripping the handles of a tray close to her body.

Bianca's lips parted, taking a hesitant step closer. "Marcelle...?" 

But Rosalind's maid gave the priestess a sharp look, shaking her head. Her dark gaze flicked towards the ajar door and back to Bianca, intent. 

Bianca watched as the other girl carefully placed the tray on the worn table, head bent as she removed a steaming bowl and some fruit. Casting an uneasy glance at the door, Bianca trailed after her, hovering. 

"I cannot talk to you," Marcelle whispered so low that Bianca had to strain to hear her. "If they suspect, they will send someone else." And then, quickly with deft fingers, Marcelle took out a folded piece of paper, placing it under the bowl of porridge. 

Bianca's gaze flew to hers, wide but Marcelle had already placed a finger over her full lips before raising her voice so that it would carry out the room. "I will bring your dinner tonight." And with that, she gathered the tray and left, not daring to spare a glance Bianca's way as the door closed firmly shut behind her. 

The priestess stared long and hard at the door, her throat in her mouth as she carefully waited = waited for the sound of her guard yelling, accusing Marcelle. Waited for the door to swing open, for the faceless man to drag her away. Or worse. 

But nothing came. 

When she could wait no longer, Bianca moved towards the bowl, carefully retrieving the folded parchment, grey eyes frantically the familiar scrawl. 

It was written in Gaelic, albeit Scottish, Bianca could make out its contents. 

Bianca, it began.

I do not know what is happening. Callum, the Lairds, and Grey are in talks. I have tried to speak to my father and though he says very little - I can tell he is worried. Grey seems to have Cal in a bind and the castle has changed. Grey's men have arrived and are on guard. It feels like a slow invasion. 

Something is happening - though I do not know what. We have tried to speak to Cal - all of us have, but we are only permitted a moment or two. I do not know if he is aware of the extent that you are bound to your room or if he has no say in changing it. 

I will try to find out more but until then - do not draw attention to yourself. These halls no longer feel safe. And I fear that you may be in the most danger.

Alec

Bianca did not know how many times she had read Alec's letter, how many times she had tried to find some secret meaning or code hidden within the words. But when she finally bid herself to carefully fold the letter once more, tucking it away in the pages of the book gifted to her by Callum, her porridge had long gone cold.