Page 44 of Marin’s Promise

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Marin ran through the halls of the castle to where Leila shared chambers with the other three sisters. Bran's men did not stop her. In fact, many of his men had left the castle after seeing him in such an injured state.

Bran was alive from what she’d heard, but his head wound had left him confused and disoriented. Marin had ordered him sent to the healer and would check on him later. But first she had to see to Leila, to know she was safe.

Marin entered the room and found Anice standing over where Leila's small form lay in bed with Piquette on the floor by the foot of the bed. Anice looked up, tears bright in her eyes.

“How is she?” Marin asked, even as she made her own assessment of their youngest sister's pale face.

“Fortunate.” Anice spun the delicate ruby ring on her finger. Their mother had given it to her for her namesake day before the castle had been taken. It served to remind those who could remember of better times.

“The arrow stuck fast into a rib, and the other in her arm, and will cause some discomfort.” Anice’s voice choked off. She swallowed and continued. “Isla says Leila will need several days of rest but will otherwise be fine.”

Marin's throat went tight with the threat of tears. She settled her hand on Leila's small cheek. The littlest of her sisters did not register the caress, but the warmth of her skin against Marin's palm was sufficient reassurance.

“Isla gave her a tea to help her sleep,” Anice said.

Marin nodded, unable to break her gaze from Leila's precious face. Their healer had extraordinary skills, and never was Marin more grateful for those skills than now.

Leila’s long dark lashes fanned down over pale cheeks. She had the pert nose of their mother and her deep blue eyes, but that was where the similarities ended. Marin's mind flinched away from any further thoughts of Leila's appearance, the way all the sisters did in avoidance of such thoughts.

“She saw my death.” Anice's whisper was threaded with anguish. “She said she knew if she did not block those arrows, I would have died.” Piquette issued forth a whine and shifted on the floor, as if understanding his mistress’ words.

Marin glanced up at Anice in time to see the tears run down her cheeks.

“She thought to sacrifice herself to save me.” Anice's voice broke on a sob. Piquette leapt to his feet and was immediately at her side, his great muzzle bumping into her palm.

Marin opened her arms and Anice ran to her with the large dog in tow, the way she had done so often after their mother died. Anice tucked her face into Marin's shoulder and her back jerked with the force of her sobs.

Marin offered soothing shushes and rubbed small circles over her sister’s back until the worst of her weeping had ceased. All the while, Piquette wriggled his tail nervously and pressed his massive body against the two of them, almost knocking them over in his clumsy attempt to comfort.

In truth, it was hardest to console in times such as these, when Marin's own heart was breaking. Little Leila's near-sacrifice had been so altruistic, one of incredible generosity and love. And yet they had almost lost her. For a child of only ten, she was selfless when it came to those she loved—mayhap to a fault.

“Leila will be fine,” Marin said resolutely, as much for herself as for Anice. “And you are alive, my beautiful sister.”

Anice pulled away from Marin and wiped at her red-rimmed eyes. Even after having cried, Anice was still lovely.

“Marin, I was so scared.” She shook her head. “If Bran and his reivers had not arrived, I do not think…” She sucked in a pained breath and did not finish the sentence they both knew the answer to. “Why did Bran come? Are his hostages worth so much? And where had you gone?”

Marin's heart sank low into her belly. “I'd gone to kill him. I intended to secure our castle into our possession without risking anyone else. When I found out the Grahams had Mabrick, I asked him for help.” She tried to keep her head lifted, to stand by her decision made in a moment of desperation. For soon she would be honoring her vow.

“And he did?” Anice ran her fingers through Piquette’s hair. “Why?”

“I promised to marry him.”

Anice’s eyes went wide. “You did what?” She spoke too sharply, and Leila stirred on the bed. “Marin, say it isn’t so,” she said in a whisper.

“He needs the cooperation of the castle to hold it. I promised to marry him, and to convince the people to allow him to stay in peace without trying to kill him. He feels he has always been at the mercy of rich men.” She hesitated. “I also had to vow to cease my attempts to kill him.”

“What of Papa?” Anice put her hand over her mouth. “Will he be barred from entering his own home?”

Marin's eyes prickled with wet heat and she knew tears would soon be upon her once more. It was true. After all her father had taught her, after everything he'd entrusted her with, she had completely, ultimately and horrendously failed.

“If Bran and his men hadn't come, you would all be dead.” Marin drew in a shaking breath. “I could not lose all of you.”

“Oh, Marin.” Anice gazed at her with such sadness, it cut into the quick of Marin’s heart. “You gave up everything.”

Though they hadn’t been meant to be cruel, Anice’s words hit Marin like a slap.