Born of Mist and Legend (Highland Legends Book 3)

by Kat Bastion

  “And then some. Goddess incarnate.”

  Cass’s mouth fell open. Then it closed. Her expression brightened and she snapped her fingers. “I thought I’d sensed a disturbance in the unified field.”

  When her lighthearted revelation failed to break through his severe mood, her expression sobered and she gave a nod. “Right. Impossible temptation.”

  “With a charge.” Goddess or human, it mattered not. Pleasure never mixed well with missions. “I’ve been refusing to succumb to what’s developing between us. But I swear, Cass, the harder I fight reality, the stronger the pull becomes. And I thought the tether was bad.” The very thing that bound him to his temptation.

  Arms still folded, she drummed her fingers on her elbow while her gaze grew unfocused in thought.

  “There’s more…” So much more. But when he considered sharing the added timeline threat—the duality of his mission—the tether that monitored the timeline’s status vibrated in dire warning. Therefore Skorpius’s lips were sealed on that front.

  Cass blinked hard, then glanced back up at him. “What other torment could there be?”

  Oh, there was another issue he hadn’t addressed. Not even with Brigid.

  “Before all this happened, she’d been promised to someone else.”

  Cass’s expression fell. It joined his hopes for coming out of his predicament unscathed.

  He’d finally disclosed that critical omission, wide out in the open for someone to understand the impossible circumstance besides him. Humans had an adage that history inevitably repeated itself. But to have a near identical and equally indefensible situation occur twice in history, both involving his wretched self, bordered on gratuitous amusement by the Authority.

  Cass squared her shoulders, ready to battle the problem. “Don’t doubt yourself. You are clearly not there by choice. Therefore, whatever consequences occur from your actions will be warranted. What is your gut instinct when you’re around her?”

  “To protect her.” Above all else. Even to the detriment of his other task.

  “Why does she need protection?”

  Above your paygrade, he almost said.

  But he’d volleyed that factoid specifically at Brigid, when taunting her to discover her full potential—before he’d gotten to know her. Cass didn’t deserve the flippant remark. But as the vibrating timeline tether reminded him, yet again, Cass was not approved for full disclosure.

  However other, less time-threatening, reasons existed for Brigid’s protection. Still served to illustrate his dilemma. “She adventured off on her own, initially without her clan’s knowledge, to rescue her missing…” The offensive label got stuck in his throat. “Betrothed,” he eventually grumbled out.

  Cass’s brow furrowed. Then her mouth fell open. “But…I assumed…she wants you?”

  “She does. Hence one of many dilemmas.”

  “What are the others?” Her head tilted, eyes narrowing. An inquisitive tracker on a hunt.

  Accustomed to her acute perception, he dropped the one timeline-approved bombshell. “I’m directly responsible for his being ‘missing.’”

  “You are?” Cass blinked again. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Skorpius smiled, entertained by her candid disbelief. “I’m fully aware when I pluck a human from one location then shift him to another.”

  Fingall’s disappearance had been a crucial piece in an intricate chain of events surrounding Isobel’s initiation and recruitment. As the only guardian of time angelkind had ever had, without any established guidelines, Skorpius had discovered it best to trust gut instinct. And improvise, whenever necessary. As long as the end consequences achieved the desired result, logistical details in the middle had always been inconsequential in his mind.

  Until now.

  But he hadn’t been able to disclose his involvement to Brigid. Still wasn’t able to do so. If Brigid had discovered that he’d been the sole cause of Fingall’s disappearance, she would never have agreed to his protection as her guardian. And due to the great power surges that had initially caused her mood instability, she’d likely have killed his immortal hide out of unchecked anger.

  And if he’d survived her discovery of the truth, he knew he’d be objective in his guardian role, for it was impossible for him to be any other way. But Brigid would’ve never believed that.

  I’m no longer objective, he argued to himself.

  Not with the threat to the timeline.

  Could I really end her?

  His rebellion against his task, against the Authority, weighed heavy on his good heart. Because for the good of all, he’d make the hard call. Not even a choice.

  Yes. I’d end her. Difficult as the task would be. Their two tiny lives—immortal but yet still very endable if deemed necessary—were inconsequential compared to all life in every realm.

  Empathy softened Cass’s expression. “I don’t even know what to say, Skorpius.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a squeeze of solidarity. “You always end up in such impossible situations.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Okay. Answer me this, Time Guardian. If you had the chance to undo what happened with Guinevere, if you could remove yourself from the situation and let events play out as if you hadn’t existed there at all, would you?”

  Angelkind never gave merit to any alternate reality without their intervention. If an angel had been tethered, then a fracture had already occurred in the structure of the timeline. Their presence alone prevented a greater cascade effect. And if their charge cooperated, the fracture would mend completely.

  But Skorpius reflected back to the day he’d stood in the strategy hall almost a millennium ago, absorbing the hundreds of alternate realities had he not succeeded in his mission. Untold horrific atrocities would have transpired had he not been there as her guardian—as Arthur’s confident. What was a mere fallen kingdom compared to total genocide?

  And having Guinevere’s trust had been critical. Because Arthur would never have accepted Lancelot’s council without Guinevere’s influence.

  But Cass’s true question? Would he undo the grievous mistake he’d made along the way, following a heart that had turned more human on that deep-cover mission?

  Would I go back and stop myself from loving Guinevere if I could?

  “No.” Not even if it would have spared untold heartbroken souls. Not even if it would have saved the entire kingdom. Because the timeline, and all within it, had been realigned.

  “Good.” Resolute authority shone bright in her eyes. “There’s your answer. Don’t question your role or overthink the consequences.” She smiled and squeezed his shoulder once more. “Love her.”

  Love Brigid. Simple. Straightforward. Already happening in every other way but physical. And far deeper than he had ever felt before.

  “And by the way”—Cass gave his shoulder a gentle smack—“I’d like to meet your goddess.”

  Orion’s introduction with Brigid had been cold. Distant. But necessary. Especially in front of the hostile audience.

  But Cass treated beings in a unique fashion. Always had. With far more compassion than any angel he’d ever known. The trait made him wonder if Cass had once been human too.

  Skorpius nodded his head, then squeezed Cass’s shoulder in return. “Thanks for the blunt advice, sis. And Brigid would like to meet you too.”

  After they saved the worlds.

  Intent on not disturbing Brigid’s crucial sleep, Skorpius dialed his return to the glade forward a handful of hours. He materialized with his back toward a bright sun edging over the mountainous landscape.

  But the glade was…empty.

  Puzzled, his gaze shot up and around. “No magick shield,” he muttered.

  No anything.

  Preternatural senses instantly attuned, he examined every blade of grass and flower stem, assessed every bird call and insect buzz. No disturbance appeared to have happened. No magick registered. No sign of her exi
sted. Nor any evidence of struggle.

  Brigid had vanished.

  Yet her tether remained vibrant, held no vibrational urgency. The timeline tether expressed the same tameness.

  So, a game, then, he mentally cast out, in hope.

  Aye. The softest whisper filtered into his mind.

  Hide-and-seek. Relief washed through him as a playful curiosity ramped up.

  You…left…me…sleepin’ …

  Each word floated across his awareness from a different direction. Which meant Brigid either moved swiftly along the edge of an in-between dimension or she’d mastered mental voice throwing—with a complete cloak on her magick.

  I had an errand to run. And you passed out from exhaustion. Your powerful magick had you well protected.

  Nay. Not my magick alone. ’Twas our magick. Even now, within me, I sense a thread of your power entwined with mine.

  Interesting. He’d been concerned about taking the leap with Brigid. Had even sought counsel with his sister. Then the magick had gone ahead and decided for him. To a point.

  Had the same entwined effect happened to him?

  Skorpius searched within. Only found his dual mission threads.

  Yet Orion had detected some kind of anomaly with him.

  Perhaps the blending of their magicks, Brigid’s with angelkind’s source power and something decidedly other, Skorpius’s from their source power and…

  Well, there’s the connection.

  He had never known what element or force had resurrected him from mortal death. His brethren had only postulated on what had made him some darker version of his former self.

  But maybe he’d been designed to cross paths with Brigid all along.

  Because we’d been destined for one another? He had thought they’d been two different species, human and angel. Yet all signs led toward the two of them evolving into something unique unto their own.

  Still.

  Nothing guaranteed success if he and Brigid moved forward. He had to be certain. Nothing held back. No secrets. No betrayals. Not this time.

  Volatile energy sparked in the molecules of air around the glade. Alive, yet unseen to even his preternatural naked eye. But he felt the excited charge, sensed its warm childlike essence. She hadn’t hidden within any in-between world. All of her magick and awareness floated around him. Everywhere.

  You’re wishin’ to talk with me? she called, faint echoes floating in from random directions.

  Yes. Intrigued by the game, he spread his legs wide, calmed his inner being, and shifted his weight to the balls of his toes. His wings spread with anticipation.

  Then catch me!

  With pleasure.

  He dematerialized. His way.

  A burst of his dark magick fired through every particle of his body as he canted his feathers on end. He became one with the ether, a technique angels had perfected over eons, their feathers more useful than for mere flight. Each angelfire filament was a particle refractor, deflecting light, sound, and scent to obscure their presence.

  Och! You vanished!

  Perfect. It worked. Said the spider to the fly.

  A new ripple charged through the air. Emotion. Challenge and joy bundled together. Sparks of energy lit in slow succession all around him.

  ’Tis perplexin’. How can I still hear you, but not sense you?

  The playful unseen sparks of energy continued. Soon a wave pattern emerged.

  A part of the same plane, pure energy himself, he chased their tiny discharges. More energy, less matter. What she’d become. What he’d taught her. She was a fast learner. Adapt and apply.

  Aye. Emotion vibrated in a harder passing wave, as if frustration rippled through the particles. Are you able to sense me?

  Yes. With a hum of satisfaction, he anticipated where the next spark of energy would fire, then drove all of his magick around it, materializing.

  The action plucked her essence right out of thin air. Caught you. His hands closed around firmed biceps. And his magick-charged wings enfolded around her.

  Surprised, wide silver-sparking eyes stared up at him while she gasped in a breath.

  Full peachy-pink lips parted.

  Her golden gown shimmered, revealing every perfect curve on her lithe frame.

  The last thing Skorpius wanted to do at that moment? Talk.

  Chapter 25

  Brigid stared up into Skorpius’s jeweled blue-green eyes. And everra last thought fled her head.

  Incredible wings enfolded her body.

  Strong hands held her shoulders.

  Expression fierce, he glanced down at her lips. And his grip on her arms tightened a wee bit. Then his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed. Like he wanted to kiss her. And fought hard not to.

  Somethin’ grave troubled him.

  Heart achin’ for the indecision he suffered for her, she shook her head. “We’re needin’ to talk,” she murmured. To stave off any regret on his part, she placed her hands on his muscular forearms and tugged them from her. “The time has come.”

  His brows lifted and he sucked in a deep breath, pullin’ away. After a step backward, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yes.” But then he tilted his head and puzzlement washed over his features. “How are you masking your energy? You no longer need the shield to do so.”

  She curved her lips, repeatin’ his directive. “More energy, less matter.”

  “And yet you stand here in corporeal form.”

  “I doona understand the whole of it.” She stretched out and examined one of her arms from shoulder to fingers. “I’m solid, but now, somehow, my magick alone makes it so.”

  “Interesting. Hmmm…” He scanned her body while his probin’ magick shimmered through her. “You’ve enabled your essence to be light, pure energy waves. No heavier dead matter. Without magick.”

  “Nay. ’Twas a good bit of magick at the start. While you were gone, some…feelin’…told me to pull down the power shield and pour all of its energy—our entwined magicks—into me. And I’m…” She glanced down, brow furrowed at how to describe the incredible lightness of being.

  “More.” Fierce pride glittered in his gaze.

  “Aye.” More goddess. Less human.

  Elemental power brimmed within her. Additional skills and talents revealed themselves, one after another, whenever warranted or wished upon. The secrets of the ancients—the knowledge she’d gained by passin’ through her castle’s wall into his world—unraveled their gifts one at a time, as she’d grown ready to receive them.

  Skorpius blew out a hard breath, features tightenin’.

  Then he gave a hard nod. “There are two topics. You mentioned you were handfasted to Fingall. And Brigid, you need to know—”

  “Nay.” She strode forward and placed her fingers to his lips. “Nay. We’ll not talk of our past. Not yours. Not mine. Not Guinevere. Not Fingall.”

  Long black lashes blinked over wide eyes. Gentle fingers pulled her hand from his mouth. “But…you don’t understand.”

  “Aye. I do.” She gave him a stern glare. “My magick has opened my eyes to the way of it. I’m no longer asleep. The past no longer exists. All that matters? You and me. Here and now.”

  He parted his lips, as if to argue.

  She intensified her glare. Tiny sparks of energy discharged into the air around her. “We’ll not speak of it. The past never belongs between us.”

  After a long stare with conflict brewin’ in his eyes, he bowed his head a wee bit toward her. “As you wish.”

  She exhaled in relief, and the magick-charged air calmed. “And you need not be worrin’ about the other reason.”

  His perceptive eyes narrowed at her. A slow breath expanded his chest. “You know.”

  “Aye.”

  But his head turned a bit while his gaze held hers, as if he doubted her claim. “Tell me, then.”

  “You were sent to kill me.” Brigid arched her brows, darin’ him to deny it.

  But he continued to stare
at her, motionless as a stone wall.

  She dropped her hands onto her hips. “Doona pretend ’twas not so.”

  Finally, he gusted out a long sigh. “My blade above your neck gave it away?”

  Blade on my neck?

  Och! At the start of their journey. When they’d first met. “Sarcasm.”

  The corners of his lips twitched. “You’re learning.”

  Their violent beginnin’ seemed a lifetime ago, yet only a bit more than a sennight had passed. She’d all but forgotten the glint of his sword above her, and her retaliation with an arrow aimed at his eye. In a wild rage of stormin’ emotion, unable to contain the immense energy coursin’ through her at the time, she’d only sensed the strength of Skorpius’s power. And that it had sought to stop her.

  But although he had tried to kill her from the start, that wasn’t how she’d come to know.

  “Why?” She understood that her new magick alone had caused all manner of ilk to hunt her. Yet she dinna understand why an angel sent to guard her—why angelkind themselves who’d protected Brodie Castle for generations—would want to harm her.

  “The death warrant? Wasn’t personal. They determined you a threat.”

  Sudden defensiveness flared inside. “Another told me you were.”

  “The Traveler?” Skorpius snorted. “Typical.”

  “Who is ‘they’?” Beasts. Druids. Merlin. Unknown others. Brigid wanted to know the identity of all who sought to kill her, regardless of the reason.

  “The Authority.”

  “Authority.” She’d not heard of their kind. “They are a people, a clan?”

  “In a manner of speaking. More like a collective of consciousness.”

  Her brow furrowed. “And ‘they’ feel I will harm them?”

  “Harm all of us. The consciousness is all of us. All races, all species.”

  Brigid nodded as understandin’ seeped in. Pure consciousness. What she’d dissolved into when she’d vanished into nothin’…transformed into everythin’. The unified field.

  And yet, the same consciousness had separated her out as foe?

  “But I’ve…become different.” Against her will, her lower lip wobbled. A chokin’ cramp formed at the base of her throat. Irritatin’ moisture blurred her vision.