by Scott, Amber
Water trickled in jewel-like rivulets down one wall, myriad colors glinting in the rocky surface beneath. Ailyn touched the water, leaning to peer up, looking for the source of the slant of light.
“The light bounces off and brightens. Is it the sun, d’you think?” she asked, wonder softening her features.
Quinlan’s heart squeezed anew. Guilt banged against his ribs over his own words and actions. She looked so trusting, so innocent standing there. For a brief moment naught but this existed. No sorcerer hunting her down, no sect bent on destruction. No forces, no draining hourglass. Just him and her and this sea cave. He joined her, peering up as well.
“Is it not the most enchanting sight you’ve ever laid eyes upon?” she asked, rubbing her wet fingers together.
It took all his will not to kiss her soundly on the mouth. To taste her. To let this moment envelop them, conceal them from both their worlds. The trusting way she looked at him did things to him. Ailyn shouldna be trusting him now. If she had any notion of what he truly intended, she’d never forgive him; of that he was certain. It might be the only thing he felt certain of. Nay, that wasna true, either.
“Aye, lass. Enchanting.” Staring at the play of light on her face, Quinlan realized he knew one other thing to be true. Unshakably true. That he’d do everything in his power to keep her safe, even if it meant deceiving her.
Because this troublesome temptress, in all this back-and-forth swing of fate and foe, had somehow stolen his heart.
She eyed him warily, as though not sure what to make of his expression. He’d not be explaining it. He glanced away, lest she see love in his eyes. Lest she lay him bare with one more doe-eyed stare, her trust and fears stark for him to suffer.
He wanted to hand her the world on bended knee. He reached one hand into the pouch in his mantle, felt the warmth of the orb on his fingertips. Her treasure. Her pendant. Discovered on the grassy mound they’d made love on as she and Daniel spoke. His heart beseeched him to bestow her with it. He itched to see her face bright with relief and joy, to avow that all would be well.
But if he gave her the pendant…och, he wasna sure what she would do. Something flighty and illogical that would risk her lovely neck yet again. Between her ferocious wolf for a brother and her unseen enemies, he couldna bear the thought of tragedy befalling her.
“What is it?” she asked, her hand on his arm.
His thoughts skittered. His fingers tightened on the smooth stone. “You’ve a sweet heart to be fashing yourself over me. I’ve naught to lose in all this. You’ve had quite a run of it, though, haven’t you?”
Shadows flickered in her eyes. The moment of wonder disappeared. “Aye, well, it will soon see an end.”
“And you’ll be free to return to your land.” Quinlan released the pendant, removing his hand. “To your home.”
Her brow furrowed, her gaze grew strained. “Aye, home.”
He mentally kicked himself for stealing her small space of peace. She’d be needing far more of it if she’d be strengthening for what would inevitably come for her. A loud crash of waves echoed up to them, drawing her attention. He followed Ailyn as she softly treaded the narrow bend until they both stood at the slender mouth of the cave.
Far, far below, the ocean sprayed its protest against the jagged wall. Quinlan’s stomach reached upward for his gullet. Ailyn, though, appeared unperturbed by the steep drop. She peered over, that earlier wonder returning to her features, enrapturing his focus. Easing his tension.
“I’ve known this place before,” she said, her forehead wrinkling a moment. “I dinna ken how, though.”
He pulled her back a step from the rocky lip, keeping a light hold on her elbow simply because the mere touch of her soothed something deep within him. “Perhaps part of you knows you should be here. Safe.”
She shook her head. “Safe. For how long? We’ve no food, no fire. The sun already begins to set.” She gestured at the expanse of frothy sea. Quinlan took in the sky above darkening by degrees as the sun sank.
“Daniel promised there would be supplies, though few.” He retreated another step, his hand still on her elbow. “We shall make do. If need be, I’ll hunt—nay, I canno’. As he said, the key only allows entrance, not exit.” He turned the short wood staff over in his hand, a very un-key-like object to be sure. Still, he’d learned in these last days to take nothing for granted and kept a firm hold on the wood. “Rather than guess, how about we search this cavern and discover what we’re up against?”
Ailyn nodded, though she appeared far from reassured. Dismal might better describe her countenance. Hopeless. Defeated. Quinlan grit his teeth and set to scouring.
An hour later, with the light dwindling and naught but a hole-ridden sack to be accounted for, Quinlan felt equally dismal, hopeless, and, aye, defeated. Not even a fur to warm them through the night or to soften the stone floor for a decent rest.
Ailyn sank to the floor, crossing her legs. She pulled her shoes off and put her toes into the puddling water. She closed her eyes in pleasure.
“I’m cold, I’m hungry. I’ve lost every last thing dear to me,” she paused. Was she thinking of her brother? “But I’m here. No god or goddess has yet struck me down.” She opened her eyes and gave him a weak smile. “If we survive this, Quinlan, I dinna ken how I can ever begin to repay your kindnesses.”
Love bloomed anew in his chest, but he merely waved her off. “None of that now, lass. You’ll be swelling my head. Since we’ve naught but time on our hands, what do you say to a bit of magick?”
He wasna certain what he was asking, he only knew he had to silence the need pounding inside him. The need to possess her, to make her his again, to beg her to be his for all her life. These ludicrous ideas were dangerous. Thoughts such as those led to careless mistakes that got people killed.
She released a stiff laugh. “Oh, aye. Magick. What I wouldn’t give for my mother’s skill. I’d have a fire and furs and a trough of sweetmeats for your selection.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Is that right?” He loved the way her face angled when she spoke of her mother. He sank down to the floor as well, mirroring her position. The distant crush of waves, the briny scent, and the dimming light all begged him to move closer. “You miss her a great deal.”
Her eyes widened. “Aye. If I could be half the fighter she was….” Her shoulders sagged. “Two worlds would not hang in the balance, to be sure.”
“Dinna be so hard on yourself, Ailyn. No warrior is born great. Every battle survived, every scar, every brush with death—that is what brings greatness.”
Her gaze scanned his face and body. “You’re unlike any man I’ve ever known, Quinlan.” She paused thoughtfully. “I can sense the weight of all you spoke of in you, yet you somehow carry that burden with a boyish grin.”
He chuckled. “Careful lass, we’ll have no room to breathe if you swell my head so.” His current burden’s weight pressed down. He’d burrowed them down into a hole with no supplies and the darkness of night stealing in. A niggling suspicion inside him grew. What if the pendant could help her draw on that magick she spoke of? How deep a risk was he putting them in by hiding it from her?
He’d imagined a pile of furs to leave her sleeping soundly upon, a full belly, and a smile on her sweet lips. Aye, he might have to scale a rocky cliff to freedom, but certainly the two forks Daniel spoke of could bear fruit.
“Come dawn, we’ll explore the tunnel again. Can you make it until first light, Ailyn?”
She leaned against the curved wall. “I canno’ see that we have any other option, Quin. I’ll be asking you to ignore my stomach’s grumbles, though.”
Good lass. “I like it when you call me Quin.”
Even in the dark he could see the pink splotches stain her cheeks. Again, his heart squeezed. She’d be nigh unbearable to walk away from. But he would. Because it would mean she’d live to see another day. And another. Until she’d lived a whole and full life among her own people. She
deserved as much after being thrown into such turmoil, none of her own volition.
The air was cooling and growing damp. Thunder growled in the distance. Ailyn’s head snapped up. He could guess what she was thinking. If it rained, they’d freeze, the cave possibly flooding. Quinlan rose, reaching for her hand. “If we’re beyond the crevice, we should be safe.”
Her hand was icy cold. When he sat, he pulled her to sit on top of him. He encased her in his arms, leaning against a cave wall, doing his best to ignore the cold, hard floor under his arse. She didn’t protest, and after a few moments, settled in against his chest.
“Rest while you can, Ailyn.” He doubted he’d have slept even if Daniel’s promise of supplies had been fulfilled twofold. His mind simply had too much to chew on. Mainly the time he had until Samhain—two nights hence. Come morning, they’d explore the tunnel. Quinlan knew better than to count on finding aught to aid them, though. Explore, somehow get food and warmth for the night so that Ailyn would sleep hard enough to allow him to leave her.
Get to Jamison and thereby to Maera, possibly Colm. Get the two of them, along with Ailyn, back home before Samhain and the rite. It was a jumble. Too many unanswered questions. Powers he did not ken. Christ, how he wished Breanne could aid him in this. She could be having her babe at this very moment, though. Rotten as he felt about it, his gut said not to trust Daniel with anything more. He’d given them safe passage here, and he’d aided Ailyn at every step.
Or had he?
Quinlan’s shoulders tensed with dread. In his arms, Ailyn’s weight had softened so that he knew she slept. He held to her tight, his mind racing with this new possibility. Daniel had taken Ailyn away. Daniel had disappeared. Daniel knew of the pendant. Daniel…no, Daniel wasna the enemy.
Relief sank deep within his belly. Daniel had not intentionally harmed Ailyn, nor did he mean to. That much became obvious once Quinlan mentally ticked through the events. That did not mean that Quinlan could trust the young man with their safety, though. Something warned him to stay well away from Daniel henceforth.
Ailyn adjusted in his arms, rubbing her exquisite rear end against his stiffening crotch. Quinlan kissed her temple and sighed. It would be a very late, very long night indeed.
~
The warmth at his hip grew irritating. The heat rubbed and pulsed. Quinlan became half aware that he’d fallen asleep at last. Ailyn still lay curled in his arms, emitting a soft snore on every exhale. Under her elbow, the heat grew ever more annoying. He eased her arm away from the spot, rubbing. The hard nub only got hotter, though, stinging his hip, which brought him fully awake.
He nearly jerked upright, realizing the heat came from Ailyn’s pendant. Quinlan dug into his mantle as swiftly as possible, taking great care not to disturb Ailyn’s slumber. Discovering he had her pendant in this manner would be so much worse than his eventually revealing it when the timing was right—preferably when she was returning home. As a gift.
Not as a betrayal.
The offending object felt about to blister his skin, hotter than a blacksmith’s firebrand. Quinlan flung it free of the material and tossed it aside, taking heed of how much he jostled Ailyn in the process. Astoundingly, she barely stirred, curling up tighter and winding her arms around his bicep. The pendant, however, lay not but an arm’s length from him, its green glow lighting the cavern by dangerous degrees.
He’d cover the stone if not for the risk of—fire! If he could locate wood, they could…a fire would smoke so badly in such a contained space they’d likely choke before they warmed. Quinlan let his head fall back against the stone, wincing at the thudding pain a sharp point sent through his skull. The greenish hue lit the walls, casting eerie shadows along the crevices.
Amid the hush of the sea and the trickling water, another sound tickled his senses. A low humming, akin to a chant. A memory nudged to the surface. The high, dancing flames of the rite from the night he met Ailyn. The low hum, the beating bodhran, the vibrations in the air. The hairs on his arms stood to attention. He glanced about the cave, straining to locate the source.
Could it be above them? It couldna be below. Only the ocean could be below, and a sure death to any who attempted to navigate the area. He thought to stir Ailyn so they could search, but he hesitated. The hum was too faint, too singular in nature, to be a rite. Yet the rhythm was nearly the same. He tipped his head, his eyes scanning the ceiling as his mind hunted for an explanation. But there was none.
Then he heard a whisper. “Ailyn,” a soft female voice said near his ear.
Quinlan jerked, every muscle in his body tensing. He scooted left, away from the sound as his stare pinned to the darkness beyond the light. “Who’s there?” He drew Ailyn’s dagger from her thigh, giving her a hard shake. “Wake up, lass.” He raised the blade. “Show yourself,” he demanded.
“Please,” the voice said. “Dinna wake her.”
Quinlan moved to do just the opposite then froze as the visage of a woman materialized before him. Jerking, he swiped the fisted dagger through the air, intent on pushing her back. But his fist met naught but warm air. Her form grew opaque until he would swear she was as flesh and blood as he, sitting at his side, her gaze on Ailyn.
“What are you?” he asked, unable to stand or lift the woman in his arms to safety.
Her eyes went to his and in an instant, he knew. He knew because they were the exact hue of Ailyn’s. She reached her hand out as though to stroke her daughter’s cheek. When her hand merely dissolved, though, Quinlan could feel her disappointment as keenly as though it was his own.
“Look how’s she’s grown,” she said, her brows flashing together, love shining in her eyes. “My sweetest little bird.” She looked at him again. “Thank you for protecting her.”
He shook his head, feeling he’d done little. “I’ve put us in a quandary now, though, haven’t I? She misses you dearly.”
She smiled. “And I her. But dinna wake her, or I’ll vanish. Such is the way. I am too close to her heart for her to see.”
Her pain pierced into him, the bitter sweetness of Ailyn’s mother’s joy and loss palpable within him. “I’ll keep her safe. I vow it.”
“Aye, I believed you would. You were a good choice. I’ve made so few along the way.”
“What d’you—?”
She held a finger up, imploring him to listen. “They dinna need the pendant, Quinlan.”
Something inside him eased. The relief was rapidly replaced by guilt. “I’ve hid us away for naught, then? Veritably trapped us?”
She shook her head, grinning. “Nay. You’ve done best by you both. The pendant is a key, aye, but it isna meant to unlock the bloodstone. It is designed to bring the three elements together. Sun, moon, and stone.”
“Bloodstone.”
She nodded, her eyes searching his.
“Maera represents the moon.”
“A woman born of the moon will inherit its lineage and its legacy, aye, but Maera isna the heiress.”
“Ailyn is,” he said, knowing it to be as true and as simple as the signs of a storm on the horizon. “Nay.”
Empathy shone on her face and deep concern. The concern of a mother. More so, the concern of widespread consequences. “The moon holds the stone and infuses it with the source power of Tara. But not without its sun counterpart.”
Quinlan scowled, confused. “Colm?”
She tipped her head and shook it, clearly losing her patience. Ailyn stirred. Her mother faded. Her mouth moved but her words blurred.
“Wait,” Quinlan said, dropping the dagger and reaching out. “Tell me.”
She mouthed one word, again and again. But he couldna trust how his mind translated it, for the information made no sense. Kissing her hand, she hovered it over Ailyn’s forehead. The lass lurched upright, awake, groggily glancing about. Her mother was gone, but her words yet pressed his thoughts. You. You are the sun.
Ailyn quickly got to her feet, stabbing an accusing finger at the ground. Nay, not
the ground. At her pendant. “I can think of but one way my pendant could have gotten here, Quinlan.” Her eyes glittered with anger—or was it fear? “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Chapter Twenty-one
“You must find them, Danny,” Breanne said. The deep abdominal cramping eased, and Breanne released a long breath with it. She resisted the urge to sink into the nearby chair. “Dinna fash yerself. Holing them up in the passageway was the safest, smartest move, to be sure.”
“The tunnels weave three paths, Breanne. Are you certain they are not best left—is the babe coming?!”
“I’m fine. I swear it. I’ve plenty of time before my daughter arrives.”
“I’m getting Ashlon.”
“Dinna!”
Thankfully, her brother halted. Her iron grip on his arm might have helped matters a bit.
“Danny, they’ll die if you abandon them!” Another contraction set its teeth into her belly. This baby was on her way, no matter how inconvenient the timing. But she had to hold out as long as possible. “Or worse, be found!”
“Breanne, death is far worse than being found.”
She shook her head; Breanne was unable to speak because of the effort it took to conceal the effects of her pains.
“The rite is tonight, Breanne. Why not wait until dawn?”
She shook her head vehemently this time, pressing her lips together. Her husband would return at any moment. She had sent him to give word to her mother. She doubted Una would have the strength to aid her daughter through delivery, but Breanne had small hope otherwise. If not, she had Rose. Rose would see her through. Rose would be here soon enough, too.
“If we wait until dawn, we risk their lives threefold.” How did she make Danny understand without sharing so much that he actually understood? Men! They were the most difficult to protect. Why couldn’t they simply trust her and obey her wishes? “The rite could work without them.”
“The testimony of Elnor states—”
“Elnor or whoever else has not had a presage with Quinlan’s death at hand, Danny,” she ground out. She hated when he spoke of the texts as though she knew them as well as he. “The magick will find them, and thereby the sect. We might be too late already.”
