Or at least she thought she was sleeping. It was hard to know. Especially when she opened her eyes, and she was standing face to face with the man who had called himself her grandfather.
More jarring than that?
She was seeing him through a haze of red far sharper than what she had experienced on the shore when she and Bryce killed the warlock.
Chapter Sixteen
BRYCE WATCHED AS Jessie, no older than eight or nine, clenched her little fists and glared up at a man he knew full well was the imposter. The enemy claiming to be her grandfather. They stood near the clearing in the woods she loved so well.
Again, he was seeing through the warlock’s eyes.
But how could that be considering the warlock didn’t exist until after this man died?
“You’ll stay out here in the forest until I say you can return,” he spat. “You’ll stay here while I beat your mother for being the insolent woman that she is.”
Jessie trembled, not in fear but rage as the man continued saying horrible things. It didn’t take Bryce long to figure out he was purposely instigating her. But why? What was the point?
Seconds later, he figured it out when dragon fire flared in her eyes.
Bloody hell. She was embracing her dragon, wasn’t she? Not just a dormant yet magical lineage passed on from her grandfather but the real deal. Moments later, as the air began to swirl around her, the man whipped out his little book and began drawing.
There was no questioning what was about to happen.
She was going to suffer a somewhat similar fate as her grandfather.
Though Bryce raged inside, he was immobile, trapped in a warlock waiting patiently on the sidelines. A warlock staying to the shadows. He watched in horror as her little black dragon lunged at the man before he stepped aside and grinned darkly. She half roared, half screamed in pain before the impossible happened.
Her dragon colors swirled and separated from her.
Once again a little girl, Jessie staggered back in shock. Standing in the spot of sunlight she loved so well her sad eyes met his moments before her colors—her inner dragon—rushed straight into the warlock.
He barely had a moment to process the strange sensation before the imposter grandfather began chanting. Half a breath later the warlock was violently yanked toward the little book. Then all went black as he was sucked down into the bowels of Hell itself.
Ripped from the nightmare, he and Jessie sat up at the same time.
Bryce had to pat himself to make sure he was actually here. It had all seemed so real. Terrifying. Endless. But he had figured out a few things. The warlock was manifested ahead of time and somehow given a piece of her dragon. Then as swiftly as it was given freedom, it was taken away, and he was thrust back into the dark abyss of a curse yet to unravel.
If all that wasn’t enough, an even bigger truth was revealed.
“I am a dragon,” Jessie whispered, not only following his thoughts but based on the startled way she awoke, witnessed the same nightmare. A mixture of sadness and anger churned in her eyes as they met his. “Or at least I was a dragon.”
He pulled her into his arms, not sure what else to do. What was the meaning of all that? Did he somehow...possess her dragon? He would have scoffed at the idea had his mother not so recently given her dragon magic to Jessie.
“No,” she whispered, following his thoughts. “Just the warlock has it in him. Not you.”
“Bloody hell,” he muttered as they stood. Though he was furious at the idea, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of both elation and rage. Elation that she was indeed a dragon that once shifted. And rage because someone had the nerve to take her dragon away from her...away from him.
Because her little dragon very much belonged to his.
“You’re my mate,” he whispered, as snippets of what the warlock felt at the time rushed through him. The undeniable connection. The incredible truth.
Bryce pulled her closer, unable to stop the red haze that fell over his vision as their eyes held. “It might have been a terrifying moment, but at least one thing was established, lass. We are verra much dragon mates.”
Her eyes grew moist. “I would like nothing more.”
In his momentary exaltation, he had lost sight of how she must feel right now. It was clear she had yet to feel that remarkable connection. The moment, no matter how fleeting, of unabashed joy. But then how could she when she had been ruthlessly robbed of something so important? When an inherent part of who she was had been so callously ripped away from her.
“I’m so sorry, lass,” he whispered and cupped her cheeks, his touch tender. “We will fix this.” He shook his head. “If ‘tis the last thing I do, I will get your dragon back.”
She nodded and blinked away any tears before they could fall, clearly focusing on anger and revenge over loss and regret. “I know you will.” Her jaw tightened in determination. “We both will.”
Though they knew it was a very real possibility, they refused to entertain the idea that she might not get it back. That she may never experience the wonder of shifting and being with her mate as dragonkind intended it. Instead, they focused on the day all of this would be made right. A day that could not come soon enough.
When they joined the others to break their fast, Jessie filled them in on what had happened.
Sven, above all, seemed the most troubled and certainly the angriest. “I am with Bryce on this and will see your dragon returned to you if it’s the last thing I do.” He shook his head. “There is no greater crime than what that man did to you.”
While some might argue subjecting her to a life with evil warlocks was a greater crime, Bryce understood where Sven was coming from. He couldn’t imagine someone stealing his inner dragon nor the gaping hole that would be left behind.
Though they wore comforting smiles, Bryce didn’t miss the flicker of unease in both Adlin's and Grant’s eyes. He knew full well what they were thinking. What everyone must be thinking.
Now Jessie wasn’t just facing Bryce in the warlock but her own dragon.
Though there was always the chance this new information would only fuel her determination to destroy the warlock in hopes of getting her dragon back, it could also work another way. She might hesitate to end the warlock because she feared killing her dragon too.
“It all ties together somehow,” she said later as they headed for King Robert’s encampment. “Maybe possessing my dragon is what the warlock meant when he said I’m already his and will remember when I least expect it. Maybe because of your connection with him, we’ve got an advantage.” She gave him a hopeful look. “Because now we know what he’s hiding.”
“Aye,” Bryce agreed, hoping that was the case. “’Twould make sense, wouldnae it?”
“Aye, ‘twould,” Grant said. “And worth figuring into your plan when you control him rather than the other way around.”
“Agreed,” she murmured as several horsemen approached. Scotsmen all, it took Bryce a moment to realize who was in the lead.
“Greetings, my friends,” King Robert the Bruce bellowed as he swung down from his horse.
Eight years had passed for the Bruce since they last saw him at Bannockburn and though he was still fit, the long war with England was starting to wear on him. Nevertheless, it was a nice reunion as he was again astounded by how they hadn’t aged a day.
“Ye look awfully familiar to me, lassie,” he said to Jessie. “Have we met?
She offered a small smile. “Could be but it would have been very briefly in a little tavern in Happrew back when Grant was wounded.”
Grant looked at her curiously. “I thought you were gone by the time Robert arrived the next morn?”
She shrugged and grinned. “Am I not allowed to stick around and enjoy a bit of history on occasion?”
Grant chuckled. “I suppose you are.”
Though Bryce wondered how she managed it without the warlocks knowing he supposed it didn’t much matter at this point.<
br />
“You’ve arrived at a good time,” Robert announced as he had one of his men take his horse and walked with them. “We’ll be sitting down soon to go over plans one last time and ‘twould be good to have ye there.” He cast Adlin a knowing look. “In case ye’ve an opinion or two to add.”
Adlin only grinned and shook his head. “Ye know better than to ask, old friend.”
“Well, Grant’s already revised some of my plans so I’m sure things are going as they should,” Robert said. “And ye helped Angus steal those ships which was verra helpful. Not to mention saved his life.” His eyes covered everyone, especially Bryce and Jessie. “Thank ye for that, by the way.”
They nodded as Grant frowned. “I didnae revise your plans.”
Robert smiled then winked. “Of course, ye didnae.”
Grant shook his head and shrugged when Adlin gave him a look. “’Tis not my fault if he’s beginning to catch on to us after all these years.”
Adlin offered no comment as they left the woods and entered an encampment. Just like those they had entered before, men prepared for battle as they sharpened their blades and practiced fighting one another. And just like before many stopped to eye the lasses.
It didn’t go unnoticed that Sven fell in on Jessie’s other side and he knew full well why. She might not be blood related, but she was a dragon. That meant she was as much Sven’s to protect as she was Bryce’s. He nodded at the Viking, not jealous but grateful.
It had just begun raining, so they arrived at a good time.
“Refreshments for my friends,” Robert said to one of the men standing guard outside his massive tent. Three men were already inside. Two sat and the third, a tall, dark haired man stood at a table eying a map. He arched a brow at them as they entered.
“Friends, meet Sir James Douglas,” Robert said, introducing him first. “One of my oldest friends, he’s been fighting alongside me against the Sassenach for neigh on fifteen winters now.”
“’Tis an honor to meet ye, James,” Adlin led out. “I cannae thank ye enough for all ye’ve done for our country.”
James Douglas, better known as the Black Douglas, was one of Scotland’s greatest heroes for all he had accomplished on behalf of Robert. The English had given him his nickname not only because of his black hair but his fearsome reputation.
Robert proceeded to introduce the other two as they stood. “And these fine men are Sir Walter Stewart and Sir Thomas Randolph.” He paused and reflected. “But then most of you already met Thomas at the Battle of Bannockburn, aye?”
“Aye,” Graham replied as he shook hands with Robert’s commander. “’Tis good to see ye again, Sir Thomas.”
Everybody greeted one another, including Walter Stewart, who was the hereditary High Steward of Scotland.
“Sit.” Robert gestured at the table. “There’s room for ye all.”
Everyone did as Adlin and Grant eyed the maps.
“So have yer plans changed any, Robert?” Grant asked.
“Nay and ‘tis good ye convinced me to put off the battle a day, Grant,” Robert mentioned. “Given the weather.”
Bryce didn’t miss the brief look Adlin tossed Grant. It seemed his uncle must have manipulated the weather a wee bit to make that happen. After all, as history told it the Battle of Byland Moor should take place on the fourteenth, not the thirteenth.
“’Tis my greatest hope we capture Edward soon,” James ground out. “I’ve a mind to hurt him in ways he cannae imagine not only for what he’s done to this country but more recently Edinburgh.” His eyes met Robert’s. “’Twas not nearly gratifying enough to pester his army afterward.”
The dark promise in James' eyes was telling. He would offer King Edward a tortuous death indeed. And Bryce well understood his sentiment, as did they all. Because, sadly enough, those who had not heeded Robert’s dire warning to leave the city but instead held out hope for the English to be merciful suffered greatly.
When Edward’s army never got their supplies thanks to Angus MacDonald, things grew far worse. Only aiding in Robert’s grand plan of starving and depleting Edward’s army, the weather was unseasonably wet with constant driving rain and high winds. Due to lack of shelter and food, the Sassenach soldiers began to suffer not only from fever and agues but Dysentery. Eventually and inevitably the English army became a barely controllable, sick and semi mutinous rabble.
Staying in the city was no longer an option.
On September second, Holyrood Abbey was set on fire. In a fit of petulance, King Edward ordered the slaughter of the remaining inhabitants of Edinburgh. The Sassenach soldiers ran amok, killing almost five thousand men, women, and children. Even babies were slaughtered and disemboweled in the streets.
Meanwhile, Robert had sent James Douglas and Thomas Randolph with extra Highland clansmen to harass the retreating English unmercifully. In the end, only half of the army that had marched into Scotland stumbled out of the country.
This, of course, was all part of Robert’s master plan. A great rout to be sure.
As James reported it, the demoralized Sassenach were now in a state of mutiny. Led by incompetent leaders, without adequate food or clothing, they were forced to flee from an implacable enemy in heavy rain. James’ eyes lit with pleasure as he told of them trudging through mud, swollen rivers, forced to sleep in the open as they staggered wearily toward York.
Each day men deserted the army, fell sick or fell beneath James’ and his men’s blades as they never gave up pursuit. By the time they reached where they were now, the encampments around Rievaulx Abbey, Byland, Shaws Moor and Scawton Moor, only one third of the army remained. At that juncture, unfortunately, they were joined by tens of thousands more English soldiers.
So those now surrounding King Edward at Rievaulx Abbey were the army they would be fighting on the morrow. An army that Robert with his brilliant strategizing didn’t seem wary of in the least.
The king kept discussing his battle strategy with Adlin and Grant who, naturally, gave nothing away. Bryce knew, though, that things were going as planned.
They continued to enjoy pleasantries as they visited. Like his cousins, he couldn’t be more honored to be sitting amongst such great men. If not for them, this country would surely not be where it was today.
“If not for you and your cousins too,” Jessie said into his mind. “You’re just as much heroes as any of these men considering what you’ve done for your country.”
“Och, I wouldnae go that far.” He squeezed her hand as his eyes met hers. “But thank you, lass.” Though his gaze returned to the others, he kept speaking to her. “Have you come up with a plan yet in regards to the warlock?”
“Yes,” she replied, opening her mind to the others as well. “I think as soon as we’re done here, we should find a private spot and summon the warlock. Because if we wait much longer, it’ll be time for the battle and we don’t want him making his move then.”
“I couldnae agree more, lass,” Grant responded. His eyes grazed her ring while he continued speaking with Robert. “Though your gem doesnae glow yet.”
“Hopefully, it will once we defeat the beastie, aye?” Adlin interjected. “Who knows. Mayhap if we throw everything we have at it, which is considerable with three rings already ignited, we’ll be able to defeat it without the power of the fourth ring.”
While Bryce appreciated Adlin’s optimism, he feared it wouldn’t be that simple. So did Jessie based on her less-than-convinced thoughts.
A few hours later, having found a spot a ways out from the encampment, the same reservations remained. Though Robert thought it peculiar that they wandered off to explore the forest and get a lay of the land, he was somewhat used to their oddities by now. More than that, he trusted that they had Scotland’s best interests in mind.
“Like I know all of you have, I’ve given this a great deal of thought,” Jessie finally said as she met their eyes over a crackling fire. “And I’m sure like all of you I’ve come to one conclusi
on.” Her eyes met Bryce’s. “It’s very likely going to come down to Bryce and me, just like it did with the warlock that had the enemy’s essence.”
“Aye, lass,” Grant agreed. “But as you all did in Pentland Firth, we can wear it down first and mayhap make it easier for you.” His brows rose. “And though ‘tis of the spirit realm, like Adlin said, we’ve got three magical rings now. Rings that might just help everyone attack the warlock in a way it didn’t anticipate.”
Jessie nodded, her eyes on Bryce. “Are you ready?”
He could see the growing strength and confidence in her eyes. She was prepared to confront this last warlock. It was time.
“Aye, lass.” He nodded. “I’ll be by your side from start to finish.”
Her gaze swept over everyone as she said a few final words. “Whatever might come of this I want you all to know how thankful I am. Not just for your inspirational courage but the kindness you’ve shown me.” Emotion flared in her eyes. “It’s meant more than you know.”
“We’re always here for you, sweetie,” Milly said as everyone nodded their agreement. “And we’re more than thankful for all you’ve done too.”
Jessie didn’t say anything else just held their eyes for another moment before she opened the book to a blank page, closed her eyes and started drawing. Bryce narrowed his eyes at the image as it began to take shape. If he wasn’t mistaken, it looked an awful lot like him.
Her eyes shot open and focused on the fire as she began chanting.
Moments later, his attention was torn from the book as a harsh chill swept through the woodland and shadows fell where there were none before. Though everyone visibly tensed, Bryce and Sven were particularly anxious. Whatever was heading their way had the unmistakable essence of dragon about it.
“He’s coming,” Jessie whispered.
Seconds later, a tall, dark inky shadow began shifting through the forest toward them.
Avenged by a Highland Laird (The MacLomain Series: A New Beginning Book 4) Page 22