I lifted my lover into my arms and buried my face in her wrinkled neck and wept.
Epilogue
I don’t know how often, in the so-many years since, I’ve tried to remember my lover’s weary wicked grin and the touch of her dry wrinkleskin fingers on my cheek.
Thirty years, if she’s lucky. I remembered Conal’s brutal prediction. She hadn’t been lucky, of course. She’d met her stepfather, and the priest-Lammyr, and Conal, and me.
I watched my tears dribble into her white seal-skin crop of hair, then pressed my cheek against it. It still felt the same: silky.
~ Don’t cry, she said.
The weight of her was nothing. Lying against me she felt like a bird. As if her bones were hollow and I could fletch her with sky-blue wings and she could fly.
Her fingertips caressed my cheek, finding my tears.
~ That summer with you, my lennanshee. And a year with Kate. And two years here! It’s more than I wished for, tied to a stake with your brother. It’s been enough, my love.
~ Not for me, I said.
~ You knew, my love, she told me gently. ~ It was less than we thought but you knew. I’m glad. And I loved you. I’m glad I loved you.
Could she speak to my mind? I don’t know. I didn’t know any more if I was thinking or speaking, with her. It was all the same.
‘Seth?’
‘What?’
She hesitated. Perhaps she was catching her failing breath.
‘Don’t be angry.’
I couldn’t answer.
‘They’re dead, all of them. Don’t waste your heart on rage.’
How could I help it? I’d promised myself no end of revenge, on no end of men, but I had been cheated even of that.
‘Please? I’m fond of that heart, my lennanshee. Don’t waste it. Not for my sake. And they must be dead.’
‘There are men like them, Catriona. There always are. Rage isn’t wasted.’
‘I didn’t say, don’t waste your rage.’ She tilted her head, smiled a tired smile. ‘It’s your heart that’ll waste. And I love it too much.’
I kissed her forehead. I didn’t want to stop kissing her. I had to force my lips away from her skin, so I could say:
‘I’ll give it a try.’
‘Good. Will you hold me?’
‘Of course I’ll hold you. I’m not letting you go.’
‘Oh, you’ll have to do that, my lover.’
‘Call me by my name,’ I said.
‘Murlainn,’ she said, and smiled. ‘I’ll see our sons.’
‘Course you will.’ I smiled back at her, then tucked her head close into my shoulder.
‘Don’t go, Murlainn,’ she said. ‘Not till I do.’
‘You know I won’t,’ I said. I gritted my teeth. ‘I love you.’
‘I know that too.’
* * *
I had not moved for hours. I hadn’t shaved for days, though it’s not as if Catriona would care.
I heard his soft knock on the door, but I did not watch Conal come into the room. I stroked Catriona’s dry lined cheek over and over. Her lips were a little upturned at the corners, but they seemed less creased than before, her face less lined and weary. I combed my fingers through her white crop, felt the angles of her skull with the palm of my hand. She was beautiful, still beautiful. While she aged with us beyond the Veil, aged in an eyeblink, she’d not had all the beauty beaten out of her by struggle and hunger. She’d aged well. She’d aged well.
Oh, gods, she’d aged. I pressed my wet face to her hair and clenched my teeth.
‘Seth.’
I would not look at him, would not let him see my eyes. I blinked, very hard.
‘Where will you go?’ asked Conal.
I waited till I could speak. ‘Up among the stones. It’s like where … It’s like where…’
‘Where her children are,’ he said gently. ‘On the other side.’
I nodded. My whole body trembled. Grimly I tightened my arms on her frail body.
‘But I mean,’ he said, ‘I mean, where will you go now?’
Slowly, slowly, I rocked her back and forth in my arms. I had to wait to speak again.
‘Did you check for me, Conal? Did you find out?’
‘Seth, they’re dead. That’s the truth. She outlived them all. The guards, the little man from town, her stepfather. All of them.’
‘She didn’t have so long.’ She had no time at all.
‘No. But she had more, didn’t she?’
‘I don’t know. Did she?’
‘Seth. You know it.’ Crouching, he pushed my hair back from my eyes.
Furiously I wiped them. ‘Go and look for your Stone, Conal. I’m going away for a while. A year or two. All right? I’ll care about the Stone again, I’ll care about the Veil. I swear I will. Just. Not right now.’
He didn’t answer. Then I saw he was weeping too.
‘I’ll come back,’ I said, and managed to smile. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll come back.’
‘Please,’ he said. ‘Please come back.’
He didn’t say soon and I was glad.
‘So you need your bastard brother?’ I wiped my nose.
‘I always did,’ he said. ‘I always did.’
‘Yeah. I knew that,’ I said. ‘Call yourself a Captain. Where would you be without me?’
Gently he cuffed my cheekbone. ‘Greenarse.’
I gave a desperate laugh.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘I’ll help. I loved her too.’
He took Catriona out of my resisting arms, and I stumbled to my feet, and pushed open the door. I filled my lungs with night air, alien but beautiful, and we took her out into the darkness to find her sons.
BOOK TWO
BLOODSTONE
We shouldn’t be here.
We said we’d never cross the Veil, that we wouldn’t come home till we found the Stone. But we’d given no oath.
So we lied. So what? As if we could live without breathing our own air once a decade.
Kate NicNiven must know that as well as we did. But if our queen wanted to kill us, she’d have to find us first …
For centuries, Seth and Conal have hunted for the Bloodstone Kate wants, without success. Homesick, and determined to ensure their clann’s safety, they’ve also made secret forays across the Veil. One of these illicit crossings has violent consequences that will devastate both their close family and, eventually, their entire clann.
In the otherworld, Jed Cameron—a feral, full-mortal young thief—becomes entangled with the strange and dangerous Finn MacAngus and her shadowy uncles. When he is dragged accidentally into the world of the Sithe, it’s nothing he can’t handle—but that’s before time warps around him, and the danger reaches out to threaten his infant brother.
In the collision of two worlds, conflict and tragedy are inevitable—especially when treachery comes from the most shocking of quarters …
Tor books by Gillian Philip
Firebrand
Bloodstone*
*Forthcoming
Gillian Philip was born in Glasgow but has spent much of her life in Aberdeen, Barbados, and a beautiful valley near Dallas (not that one). Before turning to full-time writing, she worked as a barmaid, theatre usherette, record store assistant, radio presenter, typesetter, hotel wrangler, secretary, political assistant, and Celtic-Caribbean singer.
She has been nominated for a Carnegie Medal and a David Gemmell Legend Award, and shortlisted for many awards including the Royal Mail Scottish Book Award. Her favorite genres are fantasy and crime (her novels include Bad Faith, Crossing The Line, and The Opposite of Amber), and she has written as one of the Erin Hunters (Survivors) and as Gabriella Poole (Darke Academy).
She lives in the northeast Highlands of Scotland with husband, Ian, twins, Jamie and Lucy, Cluny the Labrador, Milo the Papillon, Otto the half-Papillon (guess how that happened), Buffy the Slayer hamster, psycho cats The Ghost and The Darkness, Mapp and Lucia the chickens, and several nerv
ous fish. She is not getting any more pets. No way.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
FIREBRAND
Copyright © 2010 by Gillian Philip
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Steve Stone
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
ISBN 0-978-7653-3322-3
e-ISBN 9781429967754
Originally published in Great Britain by Strident Publishing, Ltd.
First U.S. Edition: February 2013
Firebrand (Rebel Angel Series) Page 29
