The Renegade's Heart Read Free

quarter of the
new year, a strange wind came rattling through Kinfairlie’s hall.
That wind bore down on Kinfairlie with astonishing force and cold,
slipping through the chinks in the mortar, scattering spices and
making the water swirl in the buckets. Darkness came earlier from
that day hence, and the nights were filled with threat and ominous
whispers.
    There was not a soul who did not curse the
change, or the relentless buffet of that wind. It seemed impossible
to evade its frosty fingers, or to ever get fully warm. Lanterns
were snuffed and candles blown out by its gusts. Fires were nearly
impossible to start, with that wind gusting across hearth and
brazier, and tempers became short.
    Usually the coldest winds came from the sea,
bearing dampness and often snow. This wind was fierce and
unfamiliar. It blew from the north, ferocious and icy. Yet at the
same time, the butter turned rancid and the meat spoiled in the
larder, despite the cold temperatures. There were those who said it
was a punishment, a retribution for sin, or even for the
comparative ease of the winter so far.
    Isabella did not believe a word of that.
Since the winter had been mild before this change, she had been
immersed in her studies of the healing plants, under the tutelage
of her brother’s wife, Eleanor. Ever since Isabella had tried to
play a jest upon her brother Alexander during his courtship of
Eleanor and that jest had gone awry, she had been determined to
learn the healer’s craft so she could not so err again. Eleanor had
been only too glad to have an apprentice and Isabella was an avid
student these past three years. It suited her well to be able to
make a difference in the lives of those around her.
    This wind made labor for Isabella, as many in
Kinfairlie fell ill with a persistent cough, one that began the
first night of the wind’s arrival and would not abate. As well,
Eleanor herself fell ill, leaving more to Isabella. Eleanor was at
the beginning of her second pregnancy, though it was only with
arrival of the wind that she became unable to eat. Isabella worked
long, fearing that Eleanor might lose her child.
    It was on the third morning of the wind’s
wailing that Isabella strode into the chamber she shared with her
two unwed sisters. As Isabella entered, her youngest sister
Elizabeth looked up from her book. Isabella saw that it was the
ledger from the kitchens. “Are you doing the inventory for
Eleanor?”
    “Spices on this day. She keeps a rigorous
schedule in her inventories and I would ensure that she has no need
to rise from bed.” Elizabeth’s expression turned hopeful. “Is she
better?”
    “She grows impatient with time spent abed and
tells me this is a good portent for a patient’s recovery.”
    Elizabeth smiled.
    “That and complaints about the fare,”
Isabella added and Elizabeth laughed. “I must go to the village to
check on those with the cough, then concoct another posset for
Eleanor.”
    Elizabeth watched Isabella. “You enjoy this
labor.”
    “I do.” Isabella paused at an unfamiliar note
in her sister’s tone. “Does that trouble you?”
    Elizabeth frowned. “I am happy for you, of
course. You have found a task that you love and your passion for it
is clear. Even Annelise seems to be in her element, caring for
Roland each day.” She made a face, but Isabella knew Elizabeth did
not resent either their other sister or Eleanor and Roland’s
son.
    “So what is amiss?” she prompted.
    Elizabeth sighed again. “I have no similar
passion. Indeed, my yearnings are for things I doubt I shall ever
have.”
    “Like what?” Isabella sat down beside her
sister.
    “I yearn for adventure. Love. Bold deeds.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. “A knight to capture me and claim me as
his own. He should be valiant and handsome, and undefeated in
battle.”
    “As well as wealthy and landed,” Isabella
teased.
    “Of course!”
    “You want to live in a tale.”
    “And what is so wrong with that? More than
two