So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)(123)

Her gaze wandered up the mountainside and stopped when she spotted a cliff about one-third of the way up. Good goddesses, was that where Rupert’s mother had fallen? It must have broken Rupert’s heart to have to camp so close to the spot where his mother had died.

It was a shame, Brigitta thought, that her sister Luciana wasn’t here. If the ghost of Rupert’s mother still lingered about, Luciana would have been able to talk to her and find out the exact location of the royal seal. But all Brigitta had to go on was the vision she’d seen.

Closing her eyes, she replayed the vision in her mind, searching for any clues that she might have missed.

“Put the basket down by the stream, lad.” A woman’s voice interrupted Brigitta’s thoughts.

She opened her eyes and saw an elderly woman emerging from the forest, accompanied by a young man carrying a basket full of laundry.

“Here, Grandma?” The young man set the basket down on a grassy bank halfway to the village.

“That will be fine, Freddy.” The old woman patted him on the shoulder. “Now be a good boy and play while I work.”

“Yes, Grandma.” The young man took a woolen bag from the basket and hitched the drawstring over his shoulder.

Brigitta narrowed her eyes. This Freddy looked a year or two older than her, yet he was still being treated like a child.

He wandered along the grassy bank, headed in her direction, while the old woman crouched beside the stream and swished a man’s shirt in the water. “Look at me, Grandma!” He picked his way across the stream, balancing on rocks.

The old woman glanced up. “Try not to fall in this time.”

Freddy laughed. “I’ll be careful.” He reached the side where Brigitta sat and waved at her. “Hi! I’m Freddy.”

“I’m Brigitta. How are you?”

“I’m good.” Freddy smiled as he approached. “Do you want to be my friend? Do you like to play ball?” He swung the cloth bag off his shoulder.

“Freddy!” his grandmother called out. “How many times have I told you not to talk to strangers?”

“She’s not a stranger,” Freddy argued. “She’s Brigitta. She wants to play ball with me.”

The old woman lost her grip on the shirt, and it floated downstream. “Freddy, can you catch that?”

“I’ll get it!” Freddy dropped his bag on the ground, then jumped into the stream to chase after the shirt.

“Come here, lass.” The old woman motioned to Brigitta.

As Brigitta drew closer, she suspected the grandmother had released the shirt on purpose. Her suspicion was confirmed when the woman whispered in a low voice.

“You don’t have to play with him if you don’t want to. He means well, but he’s … well…”

“A bit like a child?” Brigitta asked.

The old woman nodded with a wry smile. “That’s a nice way to put it.”

“I got it!” Freddy splashed around in the stream, waving the wet shirt in the air.

“That’s a good lad!” his grandmother called to him, then lowered her voice. “Folk around here aren’t usually that nice to poor Freddy.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Brigitta glanced at Freddy. He was a sweet and handsome young man with his golden-brown hair and brown eyes. She narrowed her eyes as an eagle swooped down and landed on a nearby boulder. Was that Brody? It didn’t look quite like his usual style.

“Look, Grandma!” Freddy pointed at the eagle as he climbed up onto the bank. “Shoo!” He flapped the wet shirt in the air, and the eagle took off, then landed at the top of a nearby tree.

“You see the mountain?” his grandmother whispered as she motioned to it. “When he was six years old, he tried to climb it and fell. Hit his head really hard. We were afraid he was going to die, but he pulled through. Then after a few years, we realized he was stuck at the age of six.”

“How old is he now?” Brigitta asked.

“Twenty-two.” The grandmother sighed. “He’s had a hard time of it, poor thing. When he was four, his mother died, falling off the cliff over there. I don’t think he ever fully grasped that she was gone. He seemed to think she was still there, waiting for him. That’s why he tried to climb the mountain.”

A prickle ran down Brigitta’s spine. How many four-year-old boys would have lost a mother on that mountain? Could this Freddy be Rupert’s younger brother, Bjornfrid? He was the right age, and he even looked a bit like Rupert. But then, where did this grandmother come from? Had she adopted Freddy? If he was actually Bjornfrid, did she know?

“Are you from that camp over there?” the old woman asked. “Whose camp is it?”

“King Gunther,” Brigitta replied.

The woman stiffened and a flicker of panic crossed her face before she shuttered her expression. “Freddy, come here. Quick!”

She does know. “The king isn’t here,” Brigitta reassured the woman. “I sent him south on a wild goose chase. He’ll be gone for hours.”

The old woman eyed her suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“A friend.”

“I knew you would be my friend.” Freddy smiled at Brigitta as he joined them. He handed the wet shirt to his grandmother.