by Hazel Hunter
“Milord.” Down she went again, and let herself wobble a little as she came back up. “Milady awaits ye in yer chamber, and claims she’s well.” Deliberately she bit her lip and looked at the scuffed tips of her slippers.
As she expected, the laird stepped closer. “She claims?”
“Milady has grown so thin and pale.” She peeped at him before she added, “I reckon the Skaraven healer tries her best, but she doesnae ken how to help. There’s talk of Master Flen come here for Mistress Thomas. As he’s here…might he look in on milady as well?”
He sighed. “Mayhap ’twould be wise.”
“Cook has Master Flen stay near the kitchens when he visits,” she said quickly, “but I’d prepare a chamber nearer the solar and milady.” She smiled shyly at him. “If that would please ye to have him close, milord.”
Chapter Twelve
AFTER A LONG, restless night waiting for Kanyth to return, Perrin finally got a few hours of sleep. She woke when she heard footsteps in the hall, and sat up expecting to see the weapons master come in. Boy, was she going to give him a piece of her mind. She knew he thought it was all about him and his battle spirit, and wasn’t that just like a man? She had to convince him to listen to her this time. She’d never felt surer of anything in her life. Without some kind of intervention her vision of the future would come true.
“You’re awake, good,” Emeline said as she entered carrying a bundle of peach-colored silk. “I’ve brought you a clean gown, and sent one of the maids for some food, but no porridge. Master Flen should be here soon.”
“Thanks,” Perrin said as she quickly swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. Though she waited to feel wobbly or weak before she went to the washstand, she didn’t sway at all. Her body moved as strong and sure as if she’d been rehearsing for a show for weeks, which made her feel a little better. “Did Kanyth talk to you yet?”
“I’ve not seen him, lass.” The nurse shook out the gown and draped it over the side of the bed. “All the Skaraven rise so early. By the time I wake, Ru’s dressed, gone, and brought back brew he’s made for me. How are you feeling?”
“Great.”
Perrin splashed her face with the icy water in the basin, but it didn’t do anything to cool her off. She could feel all the things she really wanted to tell Emeline crowding her brain, but she’d never say them. Her throat would close up, and she’d hardly get a word out. Then, to her surprise, a few did.
“Kanyth left to get more firewood last night, but he didn’t come back.”
“Really? That’s not like him.” The nurse came over and handed her a linen towel. “Surely you didn’t have another episode.”
Perrin dried her face, aggravated that Emeline would think she’d chased him away with hysterics.
“No, I woke up with him cuddling in bed with me—his idea—and I taught him how to kiss.”
The other woman’s jaw dropped. “You did what?”
“He wanted to know how to kiss, and I demonstrated. Don’t worry. As soon as things got steamy he bailed. Literally.” Her annoyance swelled as she handed the damp cloth back. “So, he didn’t want me, okay. I’m a big girl. I can handle that. But then I remembered a vision I had during the whole battle-spirit-marking thing. Really bad one, too. I told him about it, but he didn’t believe me. He thought it came from the forge, not me. We argued, and then he left me all alone here. Luckily a maid came by with some firewood, or I probably would have frozen to death. You can close your mouth now.”
Emeline did that and looked her over as if she didn’t recognize her. “You’re feeling much better.”
“Looks that way,” Perrin agreed, marched over to the bed, stripped out of her clothes and struggled into the gown. “Another medieval strait-jacket. Perfect. Some help, please?”
Emeline tugged the voluminous skirt down over her head and straightened it before helping her lace the bodice.
“This vision that was bad, are you sure of it?” the nurse asked.
“I am,” Perrin said, looking back over her shoulder. “Well, at least I think I am.” She told Emeline about the fire and what Kanyth had said. “It was so real.”
Emeline tightened another lace. “But you say Kanyth thought it came from the forge. Perhaps it makes sense. The forge and fire?”
“But…”
“And ’tis true, the castle is made of stone.”
“Wait,” Perrin said as she turned to face Emmie. “When did everyone start doubting my gift? I saw a fire.”
“I’m glad for your gift, and you know that’s true. How many times did it save us?”
“Exactly,” Perrin said, relieved. “That’s what I told Kanyth.”
“But lass, we both know that they don’t always come true.”
Though Perrin opened her mouth to reply, she shut it again. Yes, she did know that. But this one had seemed so real. She thought of the forge again: her vision of Kanyth standing before it, how he had tried to shield her from the fire. It had been so long since she’d had a vision. Could Kanyth be right?
She shook her head as a little geyser of resentment burbled inside her, and it needed to blow again.
“Before last night I barely said two words to him, Emmie. Sure, I might have had a little crush on him, but that was my business. Now he’s come for me, and zapped me, and suddenly I’m marked-as-his-mate and all. I mean, come on. It’s a circle of scars, not a diamond solitaire. But last night he changed. He was funny, and sweet, and so, so sexy. Honestly, I didn’t need to teach him anything. That man kissed me like it’s all he ever does, all day every day, and it was so good I swear it made little hearts pop out of my ears.”
The nurse made a hmming sound as she smoothed the folds of the front of the skirt.
“Then he’s on top of me, and what was I supposed to think?” She threw up her hands. “But he doesn’t really want me. Does he mention that? Does he hint? No. Just when things were getting so that we didn’t need any firewood, the guy practically somersaults across the room. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough. So why climb into bed with me in the first place?” The torrential confession finally stopped long enough for her to drag in a breath. “Stop looking at me like I’m having a breakdown. I’m not going crazy. And I am never marrying that man.”
Emeline pressed her lips together before she said with a straight face, “Lass, you’re not crazed. You’re cured. The forge healed your head and your heart.”
“The forge can bite me,” Perrin said and jerked the gown’s bunched-up sleeves down her arms. “There’s nothing wrong with my heart, except that I keep trying to give it to men who don’t…want…it.” She pressed a hand to her brow. “Did I really just say all that private stuff to you? Out loud?”
“Very clearly,” Emeline said and gently guided her over to the big chair. “Without so much as a single hitch, stammer or gasp.”
Perrin sat down and stared numbly at the bed. “I never talk like that. Not even to Rowan. Well, maybe when I was younger, but even then… God, I sound like her. Like I don’t care what anyone thinks.” Her forehead felt perfectly cool, so she couldn’t blame a fever. She squinted at the nurse. “Are you doing this to me?”
“No, but I think I know what might be. I’ve talked to Ru about it, and he thinks… Well, it’s only a theory.”
Her friend took a comb from her pocket and began untangling her hair.
“Is it the druid thing?” Perrin asked. When Emeline didn’t answer she tilted her head back to stare up at her. “Please, Emmie. Tell me. I have Rowan mouth here. It’ll ruin my life.”
The nurse smiled a little. “All right. Do you remember when you told your sister to stop watching over you, and she actually did?”
“Sure.” She often wished she’d hadn’t, because Rowan was the only person she could talk to without shyness running interference. “I know I hurt her feelings. I’m going to apologize, as soon as she starts speaking to me again.”
“Since we traveled back in time, all your sister’s do
ne is protect you.” Emeline lifted the mass at the back of her head and spread it out over the edge of the chair. “She stole clothes for you, stood up to the giants, and nursed you through your visions. She gave you most of her food, and slept beside you every night to keep you warm. Rowan even took that whipping from Murdina when we were caught trying to run from the forest farm.”
“I should have listened to her when she tried to stop us.” Perrin hated thinking about how stupid she’d been, defying her sister and leading the other women into the dark forest without a plan. “I still can’t believe she told Murdina that the whole thing was her idea.”
“By taking the blame and the beating, Rowan kept you safe,” the nurse insisted. She ran the comb through Perrin’s hair several more times before setting it aside. “She’s made other sacrifices for you, hasn’t she? Before we came to this time?”
“Sure, I guess. She gave up her business in the states to follow me on tour,” Perrin admitted, feeling the old guilt jab her. “She had a nice little carpentry shop going in our hometown, and I know she loved it. Nothing makes my sister happier than a reason to use power tools. But she sold it as soon as I started on the show circuit, and started working as a stage hand wherever I performed. I couldn’t talk her out of it.” Not that she’d really tried.
“If my theory is correct, lass, she didn’t have a choice,” Emeline said gently.
“I never wanted Rowan to do any of that.” Perrin ducked her head. “I should have stopped her, but I was coping with losing Mom, and the funeral, and selling her house to pay off the debts. I finally auditioned for the tour so I could get away for a while. You know, make a fresh start. I figured Ro followed me because she was afraid of being alone.”
The nurse separated her hair into three sections and began to braid it. “Rowan sold her business after your mother passed?”
Perrin nodded. “It was about a month later, when the production company hired me to tour. Why?”
“Hendry used a compulsion charm to make you stop eating, so that Rowan wouldn’t attempt to escape. Starving you kept her tethered like no chain ever could.” Emeline hesitated. “If your mother was druid kind, she might have used magic to compel your sister to guard you after she passed.”
Her mother druid kind?
Rowan had once told her that Marion had admitted to being a distant cousin of their birth parents. Though she’d never revealed who they were, it meant that she and Rowan both shared some sort of kinship with their adoptive mother. If she and Rowan had druid blood, Marion might have as well.
“It’s possible. My mother was very secretive, and she did have a lot of weird books in German or something like that.” She vaguely remembered donating them to Marion’s favorite old book shop in town. “Anyway, if she did cast a spell on Ro, then I’m glad it finally wore off.”
“I think you broke it,” the nurse said slowly. “When Hendry compelled you not to eat in order to keep Rowan under control, the spell was broken the moment you changed out of your old clothes.” She snapped her fingers. “Quick as that, you were eating.”
Perrin remembered that night in the ruins of the fortification. Cade had been the one to point it out.
Rowan had been given more chances to escape than any of them, and somehow couldn’t do it. Not if it meant leaving Perrin behind.
“Now you’ve told Rowan you don’t need her protection anymore,” Emeline said, and snapped her fingers again. “And like that, she stopped cold.”
It made sense, although it still seemed bizarre to think they’d been raised by a druidess.
“So, what does that have to do with my inability to shut up?”
“Your mother wanted you protected, enough to meddle with your sister. But Rowan couldn’t have watched over you every minute of the day.” Emeline wound a ribbon around the end of the long cable she’d braided and tied it off. “I think she may have cast a second spell on you, and the forge broke it.”
Perrin’s stomach flip-flopped as her meaning sank in at last. “No, Emmie. My mother loved me.”
“At Dun Mor you never went near any of the Skaraven unless you had to, and you barely spoke to anyone. You hardly left your room.” The nurse tied her braid up so that it hung coiled over her neck. “This morning you tell me you spent last night in bed with Ka, teaching him to kiss. You argued with him over your vision. You’ve argued with me. You’re not that shy, frightened lass anymore. You’re an entirely different person.”
She hunched her shoulders. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”
Emeline touched her arm. “Lass, if nothing else convinces you, this will: you’ve said more in the last fifteen minutes than you have in all the weeks since we were taken.”
Chapter Thirteen
FROZEN SOIL PARTED as Aon burrowed through the earth. As much as he and his fellow famhair needed to gather the sun’s energy, the cool, dark ground felt like home. Though he sped toward the woods of the McAra castle, he did not hurry. Too great a speed would melt the icy dirt and coat him with mud. Not that he minded being dirty. It was the moisture he must avoid.
But as the familiar roots of the forests of the midlands passed by, Aon slowly rose. As he cleared the surface, the castle stood in the distance exactly as expected, barely visible through the woods. He breathed in the loamy scent of the pile of earth that surrounded him, and slowly let the breath out. Though Hendry would have been satisfied with another of the giants watching for signs of the Skaraven, Aon had taken on the task for just this purpose: to be alone among the trees.
Someone cleared their throat behind him.
Though still half-buried in his furrow, Aon spun, his arms upraised. Between him and the frozen loch stood a young woman. As shocking as that was Aon saw that she was unafraid. In fact, she calmly held up a hand to him.
“So, I meet a famhair at last,” she said, smiling.
Aon quickly glanced around them. Was it some sort of trap?
“We are alone,” the woman said, but glanced at the castle. “For the present.”
His eyes never left her as he climbed from the furrow and put his back to the nearest tree. The little wench stood too near the ice-covered loch to risk attacking her.
“You wait for Aon?” he ventured, wondering if the ground beneath her was water-logged. He might be able to get to her that way.
She tossed her head back and laughed, a brittle sound that somehow reminded him of Murdina.
“No,” she said, getting herself under control. “No. ’Tis another I’m expecting.” Aon realized that she kept one hand behind her, as though she hid something. “But you’ll do. Hendry must have sent you.”
“Hendry?” Aon said, not sure he had heard her right. “You ken Hendry?” he said, cocking his head.
“Me ken Hendry?” she echoed, her smile turning sly. “No. But I daresay he kens me. ’Twas I who acted as acolyte to Bhaltair Flen when the old bastart left a message for Hendry in his cottage.”
Despite the loch behind her, Aon almost lunged at the woman. He remembered the day they had raided Flen’s settlement. Hendry had flown into a rage after seeing a message left in some flour. The corpse of this druidess acolyte of Flen’s would please the Wood Dream to no end.
“Aye,” she said, raising her hand to him again. “I ken your ire, for I share it. Your master and I have that in common. Did ye no’ hear me? I but acted the acolyte. I am called Oriana.”
Though Aon would have grabbed her by the throat and dragged her into the earth, she quickly put a finger to her lips.
“Silence,” she hissed. “’Tis her. Be absolutely still.”
“Gods,” said another woman behind him. “There ye are, Ana. If this secret of yours ’tis no’ worth the bitter cold, I’ll have words with cook.”
As she trudged past him, Aon saw they wore similar clothes, though the new one wore a thin shawl around her shoulders.
“Of that I’m sure, Wynda,” Oriana said, drawing close as though to warm her.
“Out wi
th it then. This secret of the laird’s. Tell me before we freeze.”
“’Tis only you who’ll freeze,” Oriana said.
As she turned to Wynda, Aon saw the metal poker she’d hidden behind her back. Wynda saw it just before it landed with a dull metal clang above her brow. She staggered sideways and onto the frozen loch. As she clutched at the bleeding wound, the ice beneath her cracked. With a whoosh and a great splash, she felt straight down.
Aon took a pace to the side to stay clear of the spray of droplets, some of them pink.
Oriana tossed the poker into the hole in the ice, and dusted her hands off as she turned to Aon.
“I have a message for Hendry,” she told him. “’Twill be of great interest to your master.”
Chapter Fourteen
A MAID DELIVERED a tray of oatcakes, morning brew and some dried fruit for Perrin, along with news for Emeline.
“We’ve many more hurt folk come begging haven, milady. That old, hobbled druid rode in after them.” To Perrin she said, “He awaits ye in the great hall, Mistress.”
After the maid left, Emeline coaxed Perrin to eat something, but when she tried to leave Perrin latched onto her arm.
“You can’t leave me alone with him,” she said as she walked with the nurse into the hall. “Not while my mouth is having a tell-all party. No one needs to hear how amazing Kanyth kisses, or the way he talks in bed, or how much I wanted to have hot, dirty sex with him last night. Not that sex for me has ever been hot or dirty, but then I have stunningly lousy taste in men. My first and only lover turned out to be a lying, married manwhore. See? Everything just pours right out of me.”
“I’ve noticed,” Emeline said drily. “You’ve nothing to fear from Bhaltair Flen, Perr. The Skaraven may not be terribly fond of him, but he seems to be a kind soul.”
“I don’t mean him.” She knew Kanyth would be waiting downstairs, and she’d have to look at him and pretend what he’d done didn’t bother her in the slightest. Then again, that might be the perfect way to get back at him for walking out on her. “All right. Just pinch me if I start gabbing too much.”