“Open up yer mind. Ye must strengthen yer other senses before anything else.”
I frowned. “So, I’m not going to try and get a vision today?”
“If it comes to ye, but if nae, we will nae force it. Visions must come naturally to an oracle.”
I cleared my mind from any distractions and opened my other senses, listening and smelling everything around the room. I could hear my blood pumping in my veins, the sound deafening and strong. The grandfather clock on the far end of the room ticked every second, the needle sliding around the clock face with a rhythmic cadence. I smelled the delicate lavender of the tea she was drinking. I felt the fragrant steam rising from the pot and caressing my face. Everything around me was heightened, the sounds louder, the smells stronger. Even the feel of the leather sofa felt rougher on my skin.
“Soak it all in, child,” Ophelia whispered. “Be in tune with the world around ye.”
Before I knew it, I could see the room without opening my eyes. I knew where everything was without seeing, just by tuning into my other senses. I tensed in my seat and clutched the sofa’s seat cushion, turning my head side-to-side to peer around the room with closed eyes.
“Open yer eyes,” Ophelia whispered.
I slowly opened them and when I did, it was as if they’d never been closed. The room looked exactly as it did in my mind.
“Whoa,” I murmured. “Trippy.”
Ophelia smiled. “The more ye see with yer eyes closed, the easier it will be for ye to get a vision of yer own free will.”
I frowned. “How come?”
“Visions are all about seeing what others cannot see. It’s why we’re blind. Once ye’ve mastered that …”
I nodded. “I got it.”
“Close yer eyes. Again,” Ophelia commanded.
I did.
For the remainder of the week, my days were consumed by attending meetings and practicing with Ophelia. It became a routine. What also became a routine was my morning sickness. I wasn’t getting used to it.
I walked out of the bathroom after brushing my teeth after vomiting my guts and plopped down on the edge of the bed. Every morning it sapped the energy out of me, which wasn’t difficult when I barely had any energy to begin with.
When I woke, Bash was gone and his side of the bed was cold. I looked around the massive room and my eyes narrowed as I thought about King Hamish and his journals, and the secret compartment he spoke about. I’d never gotten around to asking Alexander about it and I wasn’t sure I wanted to, in case it was some nefarious secret I wasn’t supposed to know until his death.
I scanned the room and wondered where the compartment might be. The floors weren’t wood paneled, so there were no loose floorboards I could pry open with a flat screwdriver. I could check behind the paintings for a safe but that seemed too predictable. It had to be somewhere no one would think to look.
I got out of bed and started looking inside drawers, searching for hidden compartments to no avail. I smoothed my hands along the walls, checking for disguised doors all around the room. Then, even though it seemed too simple, I checked behind all the paintings and pictures. Undeterred, I dropped to the floor and checked for loose electric plugs that might point to a fake outlet, but there was nothing. I padded into the closet and desperately searched every nook and cranny, but instead of finding a secret compartment, all I did was make a disaster of my clothing.
Deciding I’d deal with that mess later, I stepped back into my bedroom and scanned every inch of the room, still coming up blank. The only place I hadn’t checked was around my windows, so I approached the largest one, my fingers sliding around the trim until I rounded the bottom of the windowsill. With a gasp, I realized there was an indention beneath. I dropped to my knees and peered underneath to get a better look, but no matter how I contorted my body, I couldn’t make out what it was.
Then I remembered something Alexander said.
The ring.
I took off my MacCoinnich family ring and placed it on the indention. Something clicked as if unlocking and the windowsill popped out a bit. Carefully standing and tugging on the windowsill, my eyes widened when a secret drawer was exposed.
“Holy shit.”
Inside the drawer was a stack of papers, assorted jewelry, but most importantly, the ruby necklace King Hamish mentioned in his journal. The thick chain was gold with a ruby pendant encased in diamonds. It looked old and priceless.
“I wonder what you do …?” I mumbled as I held it out against the light streaming in from the window.
I had to figure out the significance of this without raising any alarms. But who could I ask?
The week passed by in a blur and before I knew it, we were preparing for the attack we knew Charles had planned for me today. I felt more confident about our plan a couple days ago, but I was decidedly less gung-ho about it now.
As we walked through the streets of Sheunta Village, I was surrounded by guards I didn’t recognize. It made me antsy, knowing one or more of them were working for the other side. With my hair down and straightened, wearing a pair of black slacks, a white silk blouse, a black cape blazer, and heels, I wasn’t necessarily dressed in fighting attire.
Ranulf escorted Alexander to the funeral site where the ceremony would be held, and Bash had already gone ahead to help with preparations. I was the last to arrive. As we did, I was reminded of just why I hated funerals.
We entered Caledonian Forest where wooden benches were set up, the wood carved with delicate vines and flowers.
