by Hazel Hunter
“We’ll sleep in the one place I can make safe for her.” Edane gestured around them. “Here, in the greenhouse.”
Once Rosealise had finished cleaning and bandaging the last of Nellie’s cuts, she took her into the kitchens and made a soothing brew for her. The flapper behaved calmly, but every sound made her gaze dart and her body tense. Broden also picked up on her nervousness, and came to sit and speak with her about the dairy and the cows.
Listening to them made Rosealise wonder again about Nellie’s past. For a thoroughly carefree, unskilled young lady, she had a startling knowledge of the dairy. She also showed no distaste over caring for the animals when Broden proposed they together examine the cattle for hoof injuries. Growing up in the country, the housekeeper had helped her father tend to their family’s two milk cows, which had involved dirty and often unpleasant work. Since Nellie had insisted her appearance was of the utmost personal importance, her easiness with livestock work seemed quite out of place.
“I’d have Kiaran forge the knives for cutting back the hooves,” Broden said. “Yet I’ve never done such work.”
“I can draw the one that my– Ow.” Nellie winced and rubbed her temple. “I can draw one for him.”
Adding several dollops of honey to the herbal tisane, Rosealise brought the mug to the flapper, who warmed her hands against the sides. “Edane has made a tincture of willow bark that may ease your headache, Miss Quinn.”
“Or I can stop trying to remember how I know so much about cows.” She took a sip of the brew and grimaced. “Jeepers, this is super sweet.”
“Yes, but that’s good for settling nerves, and I fear yours are as bruised as the rest of you,” Rosealise assured her as she brought another mug for the trapper. “Would you like honey in yours, my dear sir?”
“Thank you no, my lady.” Broden’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, which shifted as he scanned the room. Approaching footsteps put him on his feet, his sword in hand. He relaxed only as he saw Edane and the others come in from the outside. “’Tis well?”
“Aye.” The archer came to Nellie, while Rosealise went to greet her husband.
“Edane shall stay with the lass in the greenhouse tonight,” Mael said as the pair left the kitchens. “They shall fetch the bedding while I go to make it ready. Jenna and Domnall shall have another look at the pantry. Broden’s for patrol and then first watch.” The falconer passed them with a small incline of his head and headed to the kitchens. “Stay with Kiaran until I return.” Mael embraced her and whispered, “The watcher’s returned, my love. ’Twas his doing.”
A surge of dread added to Rosealise’s burgeoning worry, but now was not the time for hysterics. She nodded and kissed her husband before she went to make up more calming brew. As she measured out the herbs, she saw the falconer station himself to look out through the garden window.
“Would you care for a brew?” she asked him. “I’ll have more ready very soon.”
“No, my lady.” He came over to join her. “You neednae worry the chieftain shall ask you to use your power on the wench again. Jenna reckons she couldnae have caused the collapse.”
That Nellie was the source of his displeasure didn’t surprise her. “Don’t you agree?”
“’Twasnae work she could manage alone,” Kiaran said, his tone as chilly as his dark eyes, “but another at her bidding might have.”
Clearly the man’s grudge against the flapper had grown beyond reason, and the injustice of blaming the girl did not sit well with Rosealise at all.
“When do you imagine Miss Quinn arranged such villainous work with our enemies?” she asked in her sweetest voice. “When she was running away from you last night into that tunnel of fire? Or was it after the chieftain had her imprisoned in the pantry? Perhaps Broden turned away for a moment when they were milking the cows. Doubtless she had some secret signal to instruct the Sluath to drop the walls on her head.”
The falconer glowered at her. “’Tis no’ a jest, my lady. You yourself compelled her to admit she’s a thieving liar.”
“Yes, I did, and I hope in time she will forgive me for that.” Rosealise prided herself on being a non-violent soul, which was the only reason she didn’t toss her brew in his face. “I must say, what terror will drive someone to do is quite astonishing.” She saw his eyes narrow and knew instinctively that she had hit on what needled him so greatly. “Is your dislike of Nellie fueled by a close acquaintance with the same sort of desperation, sir?”
Instantly his expression blanked. “I dinnae ken your meaning, my lady.” He returned to his stance by the window, his shoulders stiff now.
“Oh, yes, you do,” she muttered under her breath.
A moment later Jenna and Domnall came in, both disheveled and dusty. The chieftain beckoned to the falconer, leading him outside.
Rosealise brought the architect a damp cloth to wipe her hands and face, and smelled singed hair. “You burned yourself walking through the walls again?”
“I wanted to be sure it wasn’t a structural failure.” Jenna touched her short bob and grimaced. “I stopped as soon as my hair started to get hot. Then I went to show Domnall the stones that looked as if they’d been tampered with, but they were all gone.”
Chapter Twenty
NELLIE DIDN’T OBJECT when Edane told her she would be spending the rest of the night in the greenhouse. She figured with the pantry destroyed they’d need a new place to keep her. Being anywhere but inside the castle seemed fine to her. If need be, she’d sleep with the cows out in the pasture.
“’Twillnae be as warm as the keepe,” Edane said as he led her into the small outbuilding, in which some candles provided a little light. “But Mael brought many window coverings.”
Little plants sprouted from dozens of clay pots, and made the air smell like an herb garden. Hand tools hung from a carved rack above a wooden table lined with more pots. She saw the wood sorrel they’d gathered, now tidily planted in the tiniest containers.
Nellie bent down and lifted one corner of the wool that covered the mound on the dirt floor, and saw some old sacking atop a pile of clean fleeces. More blankets sat stacked next to the makeshift bed.
“Looks real cozy.” The last thing she wanted to do was sleep, so she leaned against the table and glanced at the only door. “Is Broden going to barricade me inside, or do you plan to tie me to something?”
“You’re not our prisoner, my lady. ’Tis only that you’re safer kept here with us.” When she arched her brows, he sighed. “With me, then. I’ll stay the night with you, and we can talk.”
“You don’t have to guard me,” Nellie assured him. “I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t run away again.”
But if a chance to get away from Dun Chaill came along, she certainly wouldn’t resist it. She wanted to live.
“’Tisnae what I mean.” Edane took hold of her hand. “We need to speak truth now, you and I. Give me a moment to make us safe.”
He went to secure the door with a bolt bar, and then spread out his hands. Dark blue light glowed briefly on his marked arm as he murmured under his breath.
“What was that?” Nellie asked once he fell silent.
“I cast a warding spell to protect us. If anything comes near while we sleep, ’twill awaken me.” He turned to face her. “I didnae tell you that I’m shaman-trained to use magic. Mayhap the chieftain should imprison me.”
“Probably not.” She rubbed the tingling marks on the back of her neck. “Anything else I ought to know?”
Edane grimaced. “Aye.”
As he told her about the watcher, the cold part of her saw a perfect opportunity coming together. Edane’s anger and guilt over what had happened to her could easily be turned into what she wanted. Showing the right amount of fear and pain could convince him to take her away until the clan figured out who the watcher was, and why he was trying to hurt her. The scheme seemed like the smart thing to do. The only problem was that Edane had saved her life twice. He deserved better tha
n to be used again.
“So, you’ve got someone hiding in the castle who doesn’t like me. Guess Kiaran will make a new friend.” She eased down on the blanket and leaned back against the table’s leg, patting the space beside her. “Now come here and keep me warm, fella.”
“’Tis something more you should ken.” He looked even more uncomfortable now. “Broden told me what he meant to offer you this morning, so I might ken your true regard for me. I watched from the loft as he did. For that I reckon the chieftain would punish me.”
So Broden and I really are the same, Nellie thought, and chuckled. Only the sound came out wrong, and then the candlelight grew blurry as the iciness inside her started to crack.
“Forgive me, my lady,” Edane said, kneeling down in front of her.
She turned her head and stared at a big plant with stalky purple flowers. It smelled heavenly, like Rosealise’s brews.
Nellie didn’t hate the guys for scamming her, only that Edane thought he had to. There wasn’t a bit of him that was cold or mean or selfish. She loved how soft and gentle his voice felt, as if he were hugging her with every word. He looked at her as if she were the same, even when he knew she wasn’t. She loved his kindness, and his long, beautiful hands, and the endless sky in his eyes. It didn’t matter than she couldn’t remember her past anymore. She knew she’d never met any guy like him.
That was why she couldn’t hold onto the cold part of herself.
I love him and it’s making me fall apart.
As Edane moved to sit beside her, Nellie drew up her knees and rested her brow against them, trying to keep the tears back. They came anyway, along with huge, wrenching sobs that tore out of her chest.
Strong hands draped her with a tartan, and then Edane curled an arm around her shoulders. He didn’t say a word, but simply held onto her. When she finally got hold of herself and sat up again, he used an edge of the plaid to dry her face.
“Better now?” When she nodded, he said, “I’ve given you the truth I held back, and I’m sorry it took so long. Will you now tell me what plagues you still? ’Tis a memory from your past?”
“Something did come back to me,” Nellie said, glad for the suggestion. “When we were doing the Charleston with the clan last night, I remembered another place. People from my time were dancing there. A scary-looking guy walked past me, and said I looked swanky. It gave me the creeps.”
His hand touched her cheek. “That didnae make you cry.”
Telling him that she’d fallen in love with him served no purpose. He must have heard what she’d told Broden in the barn. “It’s been a long day. Again.”
“Then I shall show one of my secrets.” He reached into his tunic, and took out a large wool pouch, which he placed in her hands.
Nellie untied it, and turned it over her palm. A long strand of round white beads slithered into her hand, cool and perfect. The candlelight made the necklace glow with a faint golden luster.
“Are these real pearls?”
Edane nodded. “I’ve been collecting them since we escaped the Sluath. I drilled the holes in each, and strung them on fine silk. I hid the work from my brothers so they wouldnae ken. I didnae reckon why I made the necklace, until I found you.”
“What did I do?” she said, puzzled.
“You came to me at last.” He put the strand over her head, tugging it down around her throat. “’Twas waiting for you, my lady. Like me, all of my life.”
Chapter Twenty-One
MOONLIGHT FELL ON Cul’s scowling face like a splash of cold water, carving from his distorted visage a mask of sharp lines and lumpy curves. He sniffed the night air, catching a trace of Pritani magic. He would have attributed it to the Mag Raith’s archer, who had considerable skill as a shaman, but this seeking spell had been invoked from a greater distance. He had refined Dun Chaill’s boundary to allow such castings to make their way to him, but not to reflect anything back.
So, it seemed someone was looking for something.
Magic descended on the garden maze, spangling the hedges before swirling around Cul. As it found him, he lifted his hands to capture it and contain it with his own power. He sifted through the threads of the enchantment and found it had been cast by Galan Aedth. It had considerable power, thanks to the prince’s gift to the druid, but not enough to trouble Cul. The spell had not been cast to hunt the Mag Raith, however, but sought a very different kind of immortal.
Has the prince at last thought of something beyond his own pleasures, and bid his pet druid to look for his long-lost kin?
Cul brought his hands together and shattered the spell, absorbing its power as he considered what that would mean for his plans.
Since emerging from the crumbled tower, evading the keen eyes of the Mag Raith and the falconer’s kestrels required Cul to be particularly cunning. He cast over himself a body ward that concealed his shape and movements wherever he went after the sun set. It cloaked him in such convincing darkness that he appeared nothing more than a flat shadow.
It had also allowed him to follow Nellie out of the stronghold when she attempted her escape. When she’d tried to flee from the Mag Raith, he’d quickly opened one of the new fire traps he’d created from his old access passages, and she’d hurried into it. The trap should have roasted her alive, but the clan had banded together to save her.
He would have strangled her as she slept in the pantry that night, but the trapper had blocked the only access to it with immense stones. So Cul had to resort to more drastic measures to insure her demise. When he heard the collapse of the pantry walls, he emerged from the tunnels and waited in the passage as the clan hurried in, only to see Nellie carried out by the archer, both battered and bloody but still alive.
It had astounded him to see her in Edane’s arms. He’d never known a mortal female to have such remarkable luck. Not even Dun Chaill could kill her.
Knowing Nellie could read what he had done from the stones, Cul hastily removed every one he had bespelled, dragging pieces down into his access tunnel before sealing it behind him.
Destroying part of his castle to be rid of the touch-reader had been a costly risk, but one he’d been convinced would serve. Yet once he’d used his listening post to eavesdrop on the clan’s conversations, he knew his scheme had only alerted the Mag Raith to his presence again. Furious that he had exposed himself by attempting the opposite, Cul had limped through the tunnels and climbed up through the maze entry.
Finding the druid’s seeking spell had cooled much of his temper, but he had to attend to the touch-reader now before she and her nuisance powers drove him mad.
He flung a surge of his magic at a side section of thorny hedges, which parted enough for him to look through to the surrounding pathways. From there he watched as Edane mag Raith led Nellie from the stronghold into the greenhouse. A few moments later he saw the shimmer of magic envelope the outbuilding.
The archer seeks to protect her from further harm.
Cul could easily dissolve the ward with his own, superior magic. He’d wait until they slept, slip inside, and kill them both. The clan would be none the wiser until the morning.
The sound of footsteps made him turn to see one of his iron warriors approaching. He’d sent a dozen out to patrol the boundary and keep watch for the Sluath or any intruders. They would return only if they had news to impart. He redirected his sentinel to walk to the maze, where he led him down into his tunnels. Once there he took the warrior into his spell chamber, where he lifted the enchantment that controlled him just enough for the man to speak.
“What do you bring me?” Cul demanded.
In a flinty voice the warrior said, “The druid Aedth came to the glen. He didnae approach the boundary. He rode to the old Pritani settlement. He removed bones from a grave. He took them with him and rode toward the Sluath village.”
“Where was the grave located?” As the sentinel described the site, Cul knew where Galan had gone, but not why. “Did the druid do anything more w
hile at the grave?”
“Aye,” the warrior said. “He cried out a word: Fiana.”
The name echoed in Cul’s head, leaping through the long centuries of his exile in Dun Chaill to the time of his enslavement in the underworld. There, bound by such chains that nothing could break, he had endured unending torments. His suffering might have ended him but for the king’s lust for an heir deemed worthy of his bloodline.
Cul had seen Prince Iolar born, the last of the Sluath begat by flesh. Stunningly beautiful in his white and gold glory, the young demon had more than fulfilled his sire’s requirements. He had gone on to acquire power and allies among the other demons, all with alarming ease. Once he had swayed most of the Sluath to pledge their loyalty to him, Iolar had murdered his sire and seized the throne.
Baleful delight spread through Cul as he realized how he could use the druid. He had no doubt now that Galan Aedth desired to resurrect the dead Pritani female whose bones he had stolen from the grave. That explained the seeking spell he’d cast. Perhaps he would do anything to see her restored to life.
Just as Cul would, so the druid might know the truth of his dreams.
Collecting himself, Cul restored the enchantment and grinned at the sentinel’s flat metallic eyes staring back at him.
“Return to the glen, and continue your watch.”
The iron warrior left as silently as he had arrived.
Cul knew his preoccupation with killing Nellie Quinn had caused him to lose sight of the greater prey. Indeed, he’d seen her death as the means with which to protect himself and Dun Chaill. Laughter burst from him, harsh and gloating. Nellie Quinn’s outrageous luck still held. She would serve him better alive than dead, for now.
Chapter Twenty-Two
KIARAN WALKED ALONG the curtain wall, stopping when he found the spot where the arch leading into the fire trap had appeared. The weathered stones felt solid and unyielding under his hand, as if they’d stood there for centuries. Edane had claimed the watcher responsible for setting the trap, and that Nellie had only triggered it to open with her touch. Turning over every detail of what had occurred in his thoughts had not provided anything to the contrary. He also remembered how the flapper had tried to make him leave the passage just before they had become trapped.