Sisters Three (Completed)

9. Morna (2/2)

Thankfully the aunts were too busy discussing the hunting of heirs to notice Morna's departure and she was able to slip into the night air with relative ease. She took three big lungfuls and then leaned against the stone railing. Below her was the vineyards and, beyond, the lake they'd built a few years ago to help abate the debilitating illness that swept her when water was held too far away. She ran her eyes on the crooked lines of the grape vines and tried to settle her mind. As it was, it rushed in circles trying to make sense of the new possibilities that had been sprung on her. Marriage, crowns, queens and wives. She didn't see why they couldn't just live at the Grand House forever. No need to split up, find husbands and different houses to live in. They could be sister spinsters like Aunt Nora and Aunt Perta. Only then did she realize how awful that prospect sounded. She pulled a face and shifted her gaze above the grape vines.

The lake stared back at her. A buzz filled her mind and she tried to remember what she'd just been thinking about. Something about Brenna... she shook her head to clear it but realized that her body was not responding to the commands she gave it. Panic coursed like sand through her blood but it was already too late. Even now her brain was slowly being soaked with the water call. Her thoughts scattered and returned with only one focus. The water.

The water....

The...

Water pulled heavily on the hem of her ballgown and Morna realized with a start that she was no longer on the balcony. She glanced around sharply to see the lake and the grassy shore. The sun had moved lower in the sky than she last remembered it, and her breathing became tight as she frantically tried to remember walking downstairs and coming outside. She had to have, for her shoes were kicked off about a hundred yards behind her, halfway between the house and the lake.

Her legs continued walking even though her brain screamed at them to stop. The murky water was up to her knees now, thoroughly ruining the silk of her gown and spreading a chill. She tried twisting herself to get a handful of the long grass behind her and pull herself to shore, but when she did manage to turn her torso she was already far from shore.

Real fear took over. She frantically tried to stop her legs as they brought her up to stomach-deep in the water. Her arms hovered above the surface but even they felt drawn down. She brought up a scream from the pit of her stomach, hoping somehow someone might hear her and bring help. The water rose to her underarms, bathing her in cold.

So long she'd fought this. Ever since that day when she was a sick child and she decided she'd break free from its control, she'd been so careful. Baths with damp cloths instead of tubs and careful maneuvering around the fountain in the front drive. Years and years making sure she didn't end up in the lake, and now here she was. And even as she closed her mouth against the water that rose to meet her lips, as the terror of the deep water crashed against her, she felt a strange sense of calm open up in her chest. A warmth spilled into her limbs as her head tipped under and she was embraced by the darkness of the water.

It was right, somehow. That she be here. That the water greet her. Like all those years she'd spent trying to run from it had been like fighting a tempest. Fighting the inevitable, the natural. She sunk to the bottom of the lake, her feet landing in the soft silt. Perhaps she needn't run any longer. Her lips parted...

A pair of hands slid under her arms and hauled her into the light. The water dragged down on her as she resurfaced, not wanting to let her go just yet. The hands readjusted to a firmer grip and began pulling her backwards. She fought, wanting to return to that still darkness, but the hands were strong. She was deposited gently on the ground, grass tickling her skin as she choked and coughed and tried to remember how to breath air.

The hands, the ones that had saved her, put light pressure on her ribs and the breath that belonged to them brushed the side of her face as whoever it was examined her. She slowly opened her eyes to see her rescuer.

Curly, light-brown hair and concerned brown eyes met her gaze. Afton Glenfarrow. And his hand still rested on her stomach. She turned her head and threw up a lungful of water while he pulled her hair back.

"Someone heard you scream," he said. "What were you doing out here at this time of the year?" She closed her eyes and ignored his questions, unable to speak or even think clearly yet. Her chest felt empty, hollowed. The call of the lake had left her, but so had everything else.

"Morna!" Brenna's frantic voice came closer. Morna opened her eyes once again to see her sister and aunts rushing toward them, followed by the entire party of guests. She groaned inwardly, cursing her ill luck. They'd all seen her now.

"She needs to rest," Afton said, as the crowd pressed in from all angles. A circle of faces stared down at Morna with wide eyes. She clutched the grass, searching for Brenna but not finding her. "Give her room," Afton continued. He shifted her head, lifting it to pillow on his leg while he motioned one of the foreigners forward and gave him some orders.

"Let me through! Morna!" Brenna shoved her way to the front and kneeled by Morna's side. Brenna pressed her hand tightly, face as pale as bones. "What happened?" she whispered.

"I don't know," Morna said, her lip trembling until tears spilled down her cheeks and sobs tore her throat.