Anna smiled. “A pink rose.”
Patricia nodded. “But he brought me daisies. When he saw me walking with harmless Peter O’dool he charged after us, thinking I was in danger.” She laughed fondly. “I thought he was making the whole thing up as a ruse to talk to me, which I thought was poorly planned as I’d think he was insane.” She giggled. “I mean how could someone have magical intuition?”
“He was quite hard to maneuver around once he set his sights on you,” Anna said.
“And when I said I’d come here to see his home, I met Matilda and Alicia and saw their powers.”
Anna arranged a set of pearls, which had belonged to their mother, around Patricia’s slender neck. After their father died, Anna had sold off most of the valuable articles with their small estate outside London to keep a roof over Patricia’s head. Patricia touched the creamy white pearls with a sad smile.
Anna leaned near her ear and met her gaze in the polished glass. “She would be quite proud to see you wear them today.”
Patricia nodded quickly and sniffed away the errant tears. “I wish they were both here. I have no one to walk me down the aisle.”
“Of course you do,” Anna said straightening. “I intend to keep you from fainting until I hand you over to William’s care at the pulpit. Then it will be up to him to guard and keep you well. I’ll be free to be as corrupt as I wish.”
Gertrude tutted, but Patricia laughed. “Thank you, dear sister.”
“And,” Anna continued, “if you’d like I will talk on and on about a woman’s place being in her home and not the hospital so you can genuinely feel father’s presence.”
Patricia glanced up at Anna. “He loved you regardless.”
Anna nodded but quirked her mouth. “I think he loved to bellow more.”
Patricia sighed and stood, smoothing the white layers of taffeta that lay around her like snowy cascades. “Thank the gracious Lord that we took after Mother else we’d never find husbands, fated soul mates or not.”
Anna’s smile, at the beautiful picture her sister presented in her dress, faded. “You don’t believe the words of…” She floundered for a name. “The Silver Witch?” She felt ridiculous even saying the title.
Patricia squeezed her hand. “Yes. I do. Drakkina came to me after Matilda had shown me how she knitted flesh back together with a thought. Then Alicia juggled apples amongst the chandeliers. I screamed and took to my bed I was so distraught. Drakkina came to me then, explaining things about the Maclean family, those marked by the dragonfly, her mark.”
“Marked?”
“A birthmark left on the ones possessing magic. It looks like a dragonfly. William’s is on his shoulder blade.” Patricia’s cheeks pinkened at her admission of seeing her betrothed’s naked back. Another might find that scandalous, but Anna had seen a hundred naked backs as she helped the children in the hospital. The virile male patients refused to see a woman doctor, but the children loved her.
“And Drakkina told you what exactly?” Anna pressed.
“That since William’s magic didn’t work on me, we were soul mates.”
“That witch is a wily one,” Gertrude interjected. “She stabbed the lady Serena a century ago, to bring her soul mate to her side, away from Culloden.”
“Stabbed?” Anna’s eyebrow rose in an arch. “She’s dangerous.”
Patricia turned from the mirror to slip on her beaded, ivory slippers. “Serena didn’t die and the deed was done to bring her love away from certain defeat and probable death on the battlefield.”
“Aye,” Gertrude cut in again, “but her methods are risky.”
Patricia frowned at the talkative maid.
“So this Drakkina is not to be trusted?” Anna asked Gertrude. “In your opinion.”
Gertrude’s mouth twisted downward, giving her a casual pucker. “From what I’ve learned from my aunt, the spirit has never lied outright, but I wouldn’t base my life on what she says.”
“The two of you are no help to the nervous bride,” Patricia said with a pout.
Anna smiled at her sister. “But you are wedding William Maclean for other reasons than the fact this woman—”
“Witch,” Gertrude corrected.
“That this witch told you to wed him, right?”
“Oh yes,” Patricia said. “I love William.” She flattened her hand against the pale push of her bosom.
“Then no matter what, you are the luckiest of women today,” Anna said and smoothed one of the delicate curls that Gertrude had artfully left to hang around her sister’s cheeks.
A rap at the door sent Gertrude fluffing Patricia’s wide skirts. “She’s ready,” she called as Matilda and Alicia swished in wearing their own fine dresses decorated with a sash of Maclean tartan. Matilda held the small hand of her four-year-old daughter, Sarah. The child tugged away and ran up to Patricia, clapping her small hands and spinning her pretty pink dress out in a circle.
“Ye are an angel, Lady Tricia.”
“It is Patricia, Sarah,” Matilda called, but Patricia waved it off, lowering down to inspect the cherub.
“And you are the loveliest flower girl I’ve ever seen.”
Sarah squealed and ran for the basket Matilda held. “I have dried rosemary and lavender to scatter before ye. The hall will smell as lovely as ye, Lady Pet-trish-a.”
Sarah nearly burst with energy like a rambunctious filly. She twirled over to Anna with a little curtsey. “And ye are lovely, too. Blue suits ye.”
“Why thank you,” Anna said. She smoothed her hands over the expensive blue material, embroidered with white flowers and green vines.
Sarah sank down with bowed head, so low Anna thought perhaps she was going to just sit on the floor in a pool of her skirts. But she rose.
Helen pushed through the cracked doorway. “Guests are assembled below and the chief is waiting.” She fluttered around Patricia, nodding her approval while Matilda and Alicia gave her quick kisses and ushered Sarah out into the hallway.
Anna squeezed Patricia’s hand. “I’ll be with you. No fainting permitted, young lady,” Anna said, dropping her voice to mimic their father.
“I won’t,” Patricia said, though the paleness in her face differed from her assessment. She took Anna’s offered arm as Helen brisked out. “Just don’t allow me to trip.”
Shadows hollowed out the bottom of the coiled stairway, making it seem much larger than it had been last night in the light of the tapers. They had managed the descent without tumbling in their dresses. Anna signaled Helen who waved across the hall. Music started up, hushing the assembled guests.
“I must sit down,” Patricia breathed, her veil puffing out with her voluminous exhale.
“It’s time to walk,” Anna said, holding Patricia’s arm firmly against her own.
A quick zip past her line of sight made Anna gasp. A dragonfly hovered around them.
“Courage, girl.” The voice was a whisper in the dark alcove. “Your love waits for you, strong and steady, child.”
Anna whipped her head around to see the lit figure of a hooded woman floating in shadow, dragonflies alighting along her robes. Drakkina? The witch stared, not at Patricia, but directly at Anna. Strength and assessment dwelled in her pale blue eyes.
“Drakkina,” Patricia breathed.
The ghost’s gaze moved to Patricia, a smile gentling the thin line of her lips. “He is a strong man, from a strong line. Have courage and meet him. He will love you for all your life.”
Anna swallowed past her dry mouth. “I’m sure my sister appreciates the sentiment, but how, pray tell, do you know that?”
“Anna,” Patricia whispered tersely, propping her veil up with trembling fingers. “That sentiment will get me down the aisle.”
“You are his mate.” Drakkina’s voice both penetrated Anna’s ears and her mind. The apparition looked Anna up and down, much like her male colleagues did in the hospital once they realized she was a licensed doctor and not some patient wand
ering about with a stethoscope around her neck.
Anna raised her chin higher. “I know not to what you are referring.” Of course she did, but to admit it aloud would add credence to the ridiculous notion of soul mates.
Drakkina frowned. “You lie as smoothly as he.”
“What are ye doing back here?” Helen asked, stretching her head around the archway wall.
Anna expected a gasp at least, but Helen tapped the toe of her boot furiously on the wide flat stones that made up the floor. Anna turned back to the corner, but Drakkina was gone.
“Just last minute sisterly advice,” Patricia said and tugged Anna to get her moving with her to the archway.
“From yer unmarried sister?” Helen looked skeptical. “If ye don’t get yerself going down that aisle now, The Maclean will be coming back here to haul ye—”
“Really!” Patricia giggled. “We are coming.”
With a full breath, Anna straightened and led Patricia into the great hall full of curious eyes. Anna felt Patricia hesitate and kept her pace so no one would know. Keeping her head straight, Anna couldn’t help but survey the room with sideways glances.
Lies? Was Drustan lying to her? What exactly had he said that could be a lie? He hadn’t, in fact, spoken much at all about who he was and why he had come to Kylkern except to say he wanted to know his family and that he wanted…her. Anna’s stomach tightened.
They reached the end of the path. Anna surrendered her sister’s hand into William’s and stepped back to stand as witness. Behind William stood a row of his warriors but no Drustan MacDruce. As casually as she could, Anna perused the room, line after line of people anxious to catch a glimpse of the English girl who’d ensnared the Maclean chief. Drustan should stand out with his tall frame and broad shoulders.
Anna drew across the small crowd. Matilda and Alicia stood with her on the bride’s side. Little Sarah made a perfect addition to the party. The scent of rosemary and lavender mixed with the smell of pine burning in the hearth.
Where was he? Not that she cared if Drustan MacDruce was anywhere around. Perhaps he went back to his house in the trees. She frowned and sniffed, turning her attention back to her sister’s even words, reciting the marriage oath.
She watched William’s eyes as he repeated the words back. Masculine joy shone in them. How hard it must be to commit to a woman when he couldn’t use his magic on her. Maybe that is what drew William to Patricia. Not true attraction but a curiosity. Certainly there was more than curiosity between these two lovebirds, but Drustan knew nothing about her and yet he followed her here. One more glance around the room and she wondered if perhaps the curiosity hadn’t been enough to keep him.
Matilda stiffened beside Anna, her breath hissing in through her teeth. She leaned toward Anna’s ear. “Mr. MacDruce wants me to tell ye that he is standing in an alcove toward the back so as not to touch anyone.” She tilted her coiffed head and Anna followed her indication in time to see Drustan’s slight nod to her. “In case he is who ye seem to be looking for,” Matilda finished.
“I most certainly am not looking for him,” Anna whispered back, lowering her eyes to the floor and felt her face fill with heat. She turned her body directly toward Patricia and William. Drustan could take her dismissal to heart.
The room erupted in cheers, making Anna lurch forward, almost dropping the bouquet of flowers in her hands. William held Patricia to him, kissing her soundly.
Anna smiled and exhaled, relaxing a coiled spring of anxiousness she’d held since their father died. Anna’s job as her sister’s provider and protector was finally relinquished, and to someone with whom Patricia seemed completely wrapped up in love.
Anna had given up the notion that she could find love for herself years ago. It just wasn’t practical, not when she was trying so hard to prove herself in a man’s world. She’d attracted numerous suitors, but they were easily scared off by her intelligence and abrupt nature. So her focus had shifted to her younger sister and her season, the season where Patricia had met a wild Highlander who apparently was her soul mate.
Soul mates? A pair of storm-ridden blue eyes in a darkly handsome face, flashed through Anna’s mind as she filed behind Patricia and William. She kept her gaze riveted to their backs as they waved so as not to be caught searching the alcove.
They all paraded through the mass of smiling Highlanders to exit into the bailey, leaving behind the person about whom Anna was most definitely not thinking.
****
Drustan watched Anna walk out into the dark entry of the castle. Damn! He’d never wanted to be able to read a mind more so than Anna’s. She was ice on the outside, but when he’d kissed her in the clearing, before her mind had caught up to her instinctual response, he’d felt an underlying fire. Like a volcano glowing up through the ice of a glacier.
He leaned against the rough stone arch, waiting for everyone to move out into the bailey to start the wedding celebration. The day had dawned clear and bright, so the party had been relocated outdoors.
With the departure of the crowd, Helen and her crew whisked into the great hall with pitchers of mead, carafes of wine, and brown-colored growlers of what must be fine Scots Whisky. Not wishing to get in the way, Drustan walked further out to inspect the tapestries of his ancestors. One depicted a woman in ancient clothing caught by a twining brooch on one shoulder. She stood with a Norse Viking, a young lady and three children of various heights under arching oak trees. He moved closer to study the little animal peeking from the woman’s hair at her shoulder.
“’Tis the mink you allowed Tuto to save in the clearing. The woman is Merewin, your second sister.”
The witch’s voice stepped up his pulse, but he did not turn. “What do you want, Silver Witch?”
“To stop you from aiding Semiazaz from damning the world.”
Drustan stepped to the side of the tapestry and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over the jacket William had loaned him. “Semiazaz wishes to save the world, create a Utopia.”
Drakkina’s ethereal body scattered for a second and then coalesced, her dragonflies zipping about her in agitation. “Save the world?” She barked a derisive laugh. “He will bring back all of humanity, killing them again at his pleasure.”
Drustan watched the emotions blink across the witch’s shifting face. It was beautiful in youth, then aged, then smooth with upturned eyes, then lined with wisdom. She was both powerful and vulnerable, an interesting jumble of inconsistencies. Perhaps the witch’s complexity is what made Semiazaz fall in love with her all those millennia ago.
“The cutting of the temporal threads will free humankind from death,” Drustan said, repeating the words Semiazaz had spoken to him since the day Drustan was threaded away from his dying mother. “Gilla will return, Druce, my sisters, everyone will be resurrected.”
“And then what?” Drakkina spat the words. “They will pile upon one another, dying horribly.”
“It will be done methodically,” Drustan said, shaking his head. “Those who are worthy to stay will be kept in this new realm. Those who weaken the world will be killed again quickly to move onto whatever plane they inhabited before. This world will be made new. Those worthy will remain with us forever. I would think you would be…pleased with the idea of immortality since you cling to this world despite your death.”
“I cannot move on until I…” She hesitated. “Until I rid the world of your brethren.”
Drustan noticed Helen pass the sign of the cross before her and waddle out of the hall, leaving them alone. He returned his focus to Drakkina. “Is that why you remain?” he asked, one eyebrow raised. “Or perhaps you hope for something else?”
The dragonflies zipped around Drakkina, some traveling out toward him as if to make him flinch. He merely lowered his eyes to examine the back of his knuckles.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Drakkina’s tone was harsh.
“I think you have another question to ask me,” Drustan said, meeting
her pale blue eyes. He’d felt her need to know from the moment he realized she was here. She’d shielded it like her thoughts, knowing his ability. But the question was such an integral part of who she was that the question presented itself as if she wore it outside her robes.
“You want to ask me about him,” Drustan said, his voice low like a whisper hovering above the ground, ready to lie flat and forgotten unless Drakkina picked it up.
Drakkina’s mask of staunch disgust faltered, her image nearly fading altogether. “You will lie. I would have no way of knowing if you speak truth.”
He pushed off the rock wall with his boot heel and went to the fire, splaying his palms out to the heat. “Perhaps if you hadn’t delayed in threading me to safety before the demons caught me, you’d have a powerful ally instead of an incredibly potent enemy to ask.” He turned to stare at her. “You wanted me dead, an infant full of innocence.”
“Full of power,” she added and sighed, her shoulders sinking slightly. “I had seen prophecies.”
“Prophecies that you created when you failed to help my mother save me.”
Drakkina’s gaze lowered to the stones. Guilt flowed out of her like the stench of rotting flesh. “I was wrong,” she said, making him turn fully toward her. She raised her face to meet his gaze. “I am…sorry.”
Drustan’s breath caught in his nose. He froze, watching for deceit. His brethren were excellent at spewing deception, but he’d had decades to learn the nuances of reading it behind their words when he couldn’t penetrate their guarded minds. His jaw began to ache and he swallowed. There seemed to be no subterfuge in the witch’s words. Just heaviness of regret.
Drustan felt the heat behind him and the soul-screaming question Drakkina wanted to ask before him. “His soul survives.”
“Eògan?” Drakkina whispered.
Chapter Seven
One word, one ancient name, yet the witch’s tone gave her away completely. Drustan didn’t need to fight his way past the defenses around her mind to know that she still loved her vanquished husband.
“Eògan tortures Semiazaz within him, and Semiazaz does the same. They are locked in eternal battle with Semiazaz always winning. But your husband will not move on or cannot move on.” Drustan shrugged. “Semiazaz won’t discuss it.” He looked over his shoulder at the witch, meeting her watery gaze. “But the answer to your question is yes, his soul lives, inside the leader of my brethren.”
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