by Hazel Hunter
He made a low, soft sound. “Revenge.”
“I wanted Coig to suffer, and I still want it,” she admitted. “They don’t bleed, him and his kind, but they can be hurt. I want him to feel all the misery that he’s caused me, and more.”
“’Twill no’ take away your pain,” Cadeyrn said and tucked her head under his chin. “As a man I went in search of the Pritani lad who falsely accused me and caused me so much injury. I found him in a grave. I felt so cheated. An older lady saw me as she came to lay flowers on the spot. She wept as she told me her son had been killed by brigands for his horse and his boots. She swore to me that he’d been a good lad, and provided for her and her family, even in the lean times.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I said that I’d learned much from him.” His mouth hitched. “’Twas the truth, of sorts. He taught me never to lie, or steal, or blame another for wrongs I’d inflicted.”
“I wish I could be as brave as you are. When I came here, I wanted to die.” She pressed her hand over his chest to feel the strong beating of his heart. “The others are the reason I didn’t kill myself. I thought, if I could just do something, and get them back to our time, then maybe I could go on living. I could be free again. Only there’s nothing waiting for me in the future but a broken neck.”
“But you said the portal healed you,” Cadeyrn said, his hand sliding over her nape.
“In this time, yes.” She met his gaze. “Hendry told me that if we go back through the portal, it reverses any healing it gave us when we came here. The moment I step into my time, my neck will break, and I’ll be completely paralyzed. Even if I manage to survive that, I’ll be trapped in a useless body for the rest of my life.”
“Then you never return,” he said, his voice hard now. “You stay here, in my time, with me.”
She ducked her head. “I don’t want your pity, mate. What happened to me was wretched, but I don’t belong here at all. Maybe returning is the proper punishment for what I’ve done to you.”
“For convincing me to come here and help you rescue three ladies stolen by our enemy? No, lass,” he chided. “’Twas a brave and daring thing you did. When we return to Dun Mor, my chieftain shall reward you.”
“But don’t you see it? I did exactly to you what the mad druids did to me. And I’m—I’m so sorry, truly I am.” She buried her face in her palms.
“Have it as you will. Since you wish to be punished, as your victim I should choose how.” He tugged her hands away from her face and brought her up against him. “You shall remain and serve me. You must kiss me often when we’re alone, and call me your mate and your boyo, always. I’ll want your hands on me as well. Very often. Your touch pleases me.”
Could it be possible that he’d forgiven her? No, Lily never had that sort of luck. “You’re laughing at me.”
“Do I sound as if I jest?” he demanded sternly. “I’ve more than I wish as recompense. At night you must sleep naked beside me. No, I think atop me. I very much like that, and feeling your breath on my face while you are sleeping. Shagging before we sleep shall not be required, but greatly encouraged.”
A laugh burst from her lips. “You want me to stay and be your pleasure lass? Are you mad?”
“I want you, Lily Stover.” He tipped up her chin and brushed his mouth over her trembling lips. “By my side, in my bed, and with me, always, as my lady.
A bubble of joy began to grow inside her. “You’ll have to lie to your clan—to your chieftain.”
He lifted his shoulders. “I need no’ tell them exactly how you convinced me to help you. Or when.”
Lily recalled how serious Cadeyrn had been when he’d told her that he never lied. “If anyone finds out, they may never trust either of us again. Can you live with that, mate?”
Cadeyrn kissed her brow. “For you, aye.”
Chapter Thirteen
IN THE COLD gray hours before dawn Brennus lay awake beside his sleeping wife. Since Cadeyrn had gone missing he’d tried to think like his war master. He’d spent long hours endeavoring to craft some clever plan. To bring home his brother and, if he’d found them, the lasses held by the famhairean would strike a great blow against the mad druids. Yet nothing had come to Brennus but more worry and frustration. He knew himself to be a man of actions, not schemes, but now he saw his own lacking only too plainly.
He’d chosen Cadeyrn as his second because he possessed what Brennus lacked: a gift for strategy.
Nor could he rely on the magic folk. Already he’d waited too long for word from the insufferable Bhaltair Flen. If Ruadri had not sent news by now, it would come too late, if it came at all.
No, Brennus thought. If it was aid he needed, it must come from himself.
Rising carefully so as not to disturb his lady, he pulled on his trews, boots, and tunic and left their chamber. Torches burned low in the wall brackets he passed, reminding him that with every day that passed the likelihood of recovering Cadeyrn dwindled. His footsteps echoed in the empty stone passage as he made his way to Dun Mor’s lowest subterranean level. There he stood before the clan’s caibeal, the chapel which he and his men had filled with large stones carved to honor the Skaravens’ battle spirits.
“I need your guidance more than ever,” Brennus said, and stepped inside.
Entering the caibeal since Althea had come to Dun Mor always reminded Brennus to leave outside his arrogance. More than once the battle spirits had sent him to walk a path he would not have chosen. That the raven, his battle spirit, had brought to him a beautiful lady from a distant future seemed as incredible as what they’d found together. Had he not paid heed, he might have instead sent Althea away, and lost the chance to know the love of his life.
A pulsing, warm glow spread from the raven skinwork on his chest. But he knew it wasn’t because he’d entered the sacred chapel. Though he didn’t turn, he grinned.
“Though you are silent as the wind,” he said, “you cannae catch me unawares, Wife.”
“Then it’s a good thing that’s not what I’m doing,” she said, coming beside him. “Mostly I’m wondering about how I’m always waking up before dawn lately.” She took his hand. “Alone, most of the time.”
“I couldnae sleep,” he said. “And I didnae wish to wake you.”
“Next time, wake me,” she said, standing close. “I’m worried about them too.” She peered into the dark interior. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
He nodded. “I’ll wait no longer.”
Brennus moved through the darkness by memory to the very heart of the caibeal. There stood the largest of the stones, a black crystal morion carved with the clan’s raven symbol. He and Althea knelt before it, as he bowed his head and pressed his hand over the skinwork inked beneath his left shoulder.
“I beg your help,” Brennus said. “The famhairean took from us our war master, Cadeyrn. We dinnae ken to where, but he may be with four lasses in desperate need of sanctuary and protection. Cadeyrn cannae prevail alone against our enemy. The Skaraven stand ready to fight for him, and the innocents stolen from their time. I beseech you, tell me where we may find them.”
The eye of the raven carved on the morion glowed with a fierce blue light that illuminated Brennus and his lady. Beneath his tunic his skinwork began to move, biting into his flesh like the peck of a pointed beak. Althea squirmed beside him, reaching a hand behind her. He moved to rub her back where she couldn’t reach, when the light from the carving winked out.
Even through their tunics, Brennus could see their skinwork light up with a dark blue glow. As Althea turned to him, her face was bathed in the glow from his ink. All around them the air moved, thick with ghostly spirits. Ravens that seemed to be made of smoke swirled around them and between them, sweeping Althea’s hair to and fro as the wind from their wings buffeted them. As one, they spiraled upward, whirling like a dark storm above the crystal statue. They boiled this way and that, bulging toward the top, until two pointed ears appeared, two
empty holes for eyes, and a downturned beak below them.
“The owl,” Brennus muttered. “’Tis Cadeyrn’s battle spirit.”
It stretched out its undulating wings, each feather a moving raven. But just as the enormous, roiling creature seemed to take flight, it cleaved in two.
“Gods,” Althea exclaimed, as she clutched his arm.
As though an unseen axe descended from above, the wraithlike owl divided into halves. Ears, eyes, and wings leaned away from the center, falling in slow motion, to disappear into a hazy mist.
The eye of the raven carved on the morion glowed with a fierce blue light and then slowly faded away.
“As the Gods will,” Brennus said, reaching out to touch the face of the crystal.
He helped Althea to her feet and they silently retreated from the chamber.
“What was that?” Althea said when they reached the stone passage. She glanced back over her shoulder. “I hope it doesn’t mean what I think it means.”
Though Brennus grimaced, he shook his head. “As ever, ’tis a puzzle within a puzzle. ’Tis often hard to see their meaning.”
Though Althea was troubled by the vision granted them by the battle spirit, Brennus found new hope. Cadeyrn still lived. He knew it deep in his bones. He was as sure of it as if his war master had appeared.
“A puzzle,” Althea said. “It figures. It’s the kind of thing Cade could figure out, but he’s not here.”
Brennus came to a stop and stared at his wife. He had been thinking about this all wrong. He didn’t need to wait for Cadeyrn. Nor did he need to strategize like his war master. What he needed was to think like his enemy.
“What?” Althea said. “Do I have ravens on my–”
“Come, Wife,” he said grasping her hand and striding back to their chamber. He snatched down a parchment map from one of the shelves and spread it on the table.
“What are you looking for?” she asked, as she came to his side and gazed down at the map.
“’Tis not what I look for,” he said, scanning back and forth. “’Tis what I dinnae look for.”
“Okay,” she said, hands on hips. “You’ve lost me.”
“Hendry kens we travel by water. He expected us at the farm.”
“Right, that’s how we were ambushed.”
“He’ll no’ make that mistake again,” Brennus said.
Althea slowly nodded. “You’re looking for an area without water.”
His finger traced the tall ridges that flanked deep valleys as they ran to the coast. “And where they believe themselves hidden.”
In his mind’s eye he could picture much of the terrain, but it was an image from twelve centuries past. Brennus had seen from their first approach to Dun Mor that, though the largest features of the land had not changed, much else had altered. Forests had come and gone, waterways had opened and closed, and some had even changed course. He leaned over the map, hands fisted on the table.
“I used to ken these lands like my own keep,” he said, the old frustration over Bhaltair and his schemes returning.
“I wish we knew more about Scotland in this time,” Althea muttered.
Brennus thought of a small but lethal mortal laird who had once proposed making Althea his bedding wench. He grinned at her. “I ken someone who does.”
An hour later sentries escorted Brennus and Althea into Maddock McAra’s castle. Althea took her husband’s arm and leaned close.
“Don’t mention Emeline,” she said lowly. “They’re almost spitting images of each other.” When Brennus turned a puzzled look to her, she added, “I think they’re related.”
In the Great Hall, Maddock and his large family had gathered for their morning meal. The diminutive laird shot up from his chair as soon as he saw Brennus, and grinned as he came over to greet them.
“You seem determined to catch me at my leisure, Chieftain,” the McAra laird scolded him. “Lady Althea, you look as fetching as a spring day. Come, break your fast with us.”
Brennus felt a surge of impatience over the clan’s social niceties, but he also valued Maddock as his strongest ally. With a glance at his lady, who nodded in silent agreement, they joined the family and dined with them on pottage, freshly-baked oat cakes and pear butter.
The laird spoke only of family matters at his table, inquiring of his wife as to her plans for the day, and his children as to their studies. Brennus felt slightly envious of Maddock whenever he came to the McAra stronghold, for the laird seemed so easy in his affections. Only when the family departed the hall did Maddock’s happy disposition sober to a shrewder graveness.
“My thanks for your patience,” the laird said. “I ken you didnae visit to hear of my wife’s plans for the solar. How may the McAra serve the Skaraven?”
“We believe the famhairean now hold our war master, Cadeyrn,” Brennus said, and explained the circumstances. “We search for a place with no approach from water, and where the druids believe they and the giants can hide.”
Maddock rubbed his mouth with the side of his finger. “No water, you say?” When Brennus nodded the laird called for his steward, and had the man bring a map of the McAra holdings.
Rolling out the scroll on the table, Maddock studied it before encircling a large area with his fingertip. “Here, where the land naturally rises and ’tis thick with forest.” He pointed to a patch of criss-crossed plots. “The closest water lies in the farmland to the west. A small river feeds the mill where the farmers take their grain.”
“Will you grant me leave to search those lands?” Brennus asked.
“Aye, if you’ll permit the McAra to accompany you,” the laird said, and grinned. “We maynae be immortal, but we’re braw in a fight.”
Chapter Fourteen
AS THE SUN began to set Cadeyrn climbed to the back side of the crevasse to inspect the surrounding countryside. Another set of steps hewn into the rock face led out of the fortlet and down to the landscape below. He saw gleaned fields and empty roads leading into the hills, but no body of water he could use to take the ladies back to Dun Mor. There would be no easy escape. Though he harbored a hope that the druids and the giants had perished in the fire, he knew better than to rely on a hope. More than likely they were already looking for them. As war master, he had to assume it.
When he returned he found all of the women awake but Lily.
“Here, to warm you,” Emeline said and brought him a clay cup filled with a steaming herb brew. “You must be exhausted.”
“I’ve been trained to go a week without sleep, my lady,” he told her, and sipped the hot drink, which had a distinct tang to it. “’Tis very good. Where did you find the sorrel?”
“Lily spotted a patch near the steps.” The nurse glanced at his lady. “Can we give her another hour or two? She’s barely slept in weeks.”
He nodded as he gazed at Lily. “They’ll no’ send the guards out at night to search for us.”
“Good,” the healer replied looking relieved.
Though he knew it likely that the women would’ve seen little of the surrounding country, he needed every scrap of information that could be had.
“Do you ken of any lochs or rivers near the hills here?” he asked.
“Not close,” Rowan said as she came over to join them. “I heard Hendry tell his nutjob wife that he got fresh horses from a village on the other side of the hills. He said he’d put something in the pond there, too, but I couldn’t make out what it was. Probably poison, knowing him. Why do you need a body of water?”
“For traveling to my clan’s stronghold,” Cadeyrn said and dipped his fingers in the cup. He showed the ladies how they turned transparent. “Once I bond with a river or loch, I can move through it, and take you with me.”
“You’re selkies?” Emeline exclaimed, gaping at him.
“Something like them,” he said, “only we dinnae turn into seals.”
“Would a big puddle work?” Rowan said. “I’ll melt the snow.” She grimaced as he sho
ok his head. “Crap. That would have been really convenient.”
“We’ll cross the hills tonight,” Cadeyrn told her, “and use the village pond.”
“Lily needs more sleep first,” Emeline said firmly. “I expect even with all your training, you could benefit from a short nap, too.”
“I’ll keep watch while you’re down,” Rowan said, wrapping herself in a piece of his tartan.
Cadeyrn considered refusing, but the warrior in him knew to eat and sleep when he could. There was no knowing when he’d have the chance again. But it was the wave of comforting warmth from Emeline that pushed him toward Lily.
“Wake us before moonrise,” he said, before he stretched out beside Lily, pulled her close, and closed his eyes.
At some point during their nap Lily rolled over to nestle against him. Half-awake, he curled an arm around her waist and stroked her back. A short time later her eyelashes fluttered, and she tilted her head back.
“You’re in bed with me again.”
“I cannae keep from you,” he murmured and pressed his mouth to her brow. “And ’twas cold.”
“So I’m to be your personal warming blanket now too.” Her lips curved into a rare smile. “I wish we were alone, boyo.”
Emeline cleared her throat. “So do I,” she muttered as she came to stand over them. “I’ll fetch Rowan, then.”
When they all gathered, Cadeyrn surveyed them. “We must cross the hills, and ’twill be dangerous. Lily and I shall walk lead. Emeline, you follow behind us. Rowan, you and Perrin shall have our backs. Watch your footfalls and keep silent. Emeline, if ’tis need to stop and rest, touch my forearm.”
He made sure to wrap them as best he could in the pieces of his tartan before guiding them out of the back side of the fortlet. The brisk night wind whirled away the white clouds of their breaths, and the snow and ice promised to make their trek a miserable one.
“Walking will keep us warm,” Lily told him as they made their way down the steps. “And we really are stronger than you think.”