by Donna Grant
“Still, I didna listen. A few months later, I snuck out again. This time, I went on my own, and no one was there to stop me. I made it to the Frasier’s and got inside the castle. It was easy,” he said with a frown. “So verra easy. It wasna until I had the blade of my dagger at the laird’s throat that I realized where I was and what I was about to do. There was no fear in the ruler’s eyes, but next to him in bed, his wife clutched at his arm, silent tears rolling down her face. That’s when it dawned on me that I had no idea who had killed my brother. I couldna blame an entire clan, nor even the laird for something that’d happened in battle. That night, I nearly began another war because I couldna stop my revenge.”
“What did you do?” she asked.
His gray gaze finally slid to her. “I said nothing to him as I climbed off the bed and strode from his chamber. I walked out the front door of the castle, fully expecting someone to stop me. No one did. No’ even at the gate, which they opened for me. I found the horse I’d tied off near the castle and rode home. The next morn, when I came downstairs, my father was absent. A few hours later, he found me and told me that the Frasier laird sent a missive. He’d known who I was, and it was he who had let me go. I’d thought I had the upper hand, but it turned out the laird had a blade to my ribs that I hadn’t even known about. I might have gotten into the castle, but he could’ve stopped me from getting out. Instead, he let me return home.”
Synne’s brows rose at the news.
“Turned out he’d learned of Nathan’s death and feared that someone might come seeking retribution. He had a description of me, so he knew instantly who I was and why I was there.”
“You could’ve killed him.”
“And he could’ve killed me. Because of my inability to accept what had happened, I nearly sent two clans back to war.”
Synne looked up and away. “I’m sorry about your brother, but I’m glad you’re here. Contrary to what you think, I am listening to what you have to say. The Coven has to be stopped.” She glanced at her hands before returning her gaze to him. “I’m glad I get to be a part of that because they killed those I loved. They destroy everything in their path. Grief, anger, resentment, and even determination drive me. I fight for everyone I lost, and I fight for those still living.”
He nodded slowly. “I only told you my story to caution you no’ to let your revenge blind you to everything else.”
“There’s a difference between the Coven and the clan you went after.”
“Aye. I lost a brother. You lost a couple who were surrogate parents and a home. No’ to mention all your friends.”
Synne wiped at her nose and looked away. “I wish I could find the next bone. I’m not sure it would do much good, though, especially if Sybbyl or any of the Coven finds me before I reach the Varroki.”
“You could destroy the bone.”
“I’m not sure that would work,” she said to him.
He shrugged. “Has anyone tried?”
“The thigh bone is integrated into the staff, though I suppose it could be burned. But, no, to answer your question, no one has tried to destroy it. Same for the skull.”
“If you find the next relic, would you destroy it given a chance?”
Synne considered his words for a moment. “If I knew I could get it to the Varroki, then no.”
“Why no’? Who cares whose hands it lands in? You believe the Varroki are right. The Coven believes they’re right to hold it. Why no’ take it out of the equation altogether?”
She couldn’t answer him, and that didn’t sit well with her. “No one has spoken of destroying the bones. I know the body of the First Witch was burned, and her remaining bones scattered, but now that you mention it, why didn’t they grind them up or throw them into the sea?”
“What I want to know is why so many are here if the bones were scattered.”
“Radnar asked that same question. Edra couldn’t answer him. No one that I know of can. But I have a theory.”
Lachlan raised his brows and lowered his leg to cross his ankles. “And that is?”
“The First Witch was Norse. The Vikings revered witches, and many settled in England and Scotland when the Norse invaded. I couldn’t tell you why there seems to be a large number of witches here. Legend says the First Witch’s followers or descendants went in all directions to scatter the bones. But because there are so many witches here, it could be why the bones, over time, somehow found their way to this isle.”
“Are there no’ witches in other countries?”
“I don’t know.”
“It could be that the bones were scattered as well as the First Witch’s followers were able. Maybe they began that legend to throw anyone off looking for the bones. Still, maybe the farthest they could go was Scotland and England.”
Synne had to admit Lachlan had a point. Everything she knew about the First Witch came through stories, and she knew how easily they could be twisted and embellished with each retelling. Without knowing the truth, it was hard to determine what to believe.
“Where did the First Witch die?” Lachlan asked.
Synne shrugged. “The legend says Norway.”
“Regardless, what we know is there is another bone in Scotland, and the Coven wants it. You might want to find it, but perhaps it would be better to get to the Varroki first. Perhaps they can help locate the bone.”
It was on the tip of Synne’s tongue to argue about finding the bone, but that was just her pride talking. She had to get to the Varroki. The longer she took to reach them, the greater the chance she would be caught by the Coven. She wanted to find a bone because the others had, and she wanted to do something for Edra and Radnar. But it didn’t appear as if she would be the one to find the bone. And, honestly, she was fine with that.
Because she was going to take part in the defeat of the Coven.
11
Two more days of travel passed. Synne’s feet and hands were numb, and she was tired. Her sleep had been disturbed by dreams that dissipated the moment she woke. But they bothered her, nonetheless.
There hadn’t been any talk of going to a village since that first time, but now she was hoping they’d stumble upon one just so she could have a bath, wash her clothes, and get warm for a night. The cold had settled into her bones so deeply, she feared that she would never feel warm again.
She glanced at Lachlan, who had worn a perpetual frown for the past day. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s no’ normal.”
“What isn’t?”
“That we’ve no’ come across anyone.”
She looked behind her and then to either side. “I understand that we’re crossing over several clans’ lands, but it is vast out here. I’d get lost between the mountains and many glens. It’d be easy to hide.”
“Easy, aye. But we’re no’ hiding, lass.”
Synne looked at the gray sky, wondering if the sun was even out. It had yet to stop snowing. “Frankly, I’m glad we’ve not run into anyone. We don’t have to explain ourselves to people or try to talk them into letting us pass.”
“While that is nice, it’s no’ normal. Patrols are always on the borders. Always.”
She was about to discount his words with another argument, then she took a moment and set aside her discomfort and irritation of the weather to really hear what he was saying. That made Synne sit up straighter. “What would cause the clans to not patrol?”
“Fear.”
“Fear like the Coven instills.”
His gray eyes met hers. “Aye. I know you doona wish it, but we need to find a village and get some answers.”
“I understand,” she said solemnly.
Internally, she was shouting for joy.
She could have a nice long bath, sit by a fire, have her clothes washed so she didn’t smell like her horse, and eat a warm meal with some ale. It sounded heavenly.
For the next several hours, Synne passed the time thinking about scrubbing her hair and being able to feel her toes
again. She didn’t ask where Lachlan was taking them when he diverted their route. He knew this territory, she did not. But she wasn’t so lost in thought that she didn’t pay attention to where they were or what was around them.
The moment the village came into view, she nearly let out a whoop of excitement.
“We’ll set up camp on the outskirts. I willna be long,” Lachlan said.
Her head snapped to him as her mouth opened, but no words came out as she attempted to find an argument for going with him.
Lachlan kept a straight face as he said, “Unless you’d like to accompany me. Perhaps we can find a room for the night. That is, if you think it would be safe.”
“I think it’ll be fine,” she replied a little too hastily.
He finally smiled and chuckled. “You’ve been shivering for days. Though you have no’ complained. I did warn you the winters were harsh.”
“More than I’m used to,” she grumbled. “I think you’re right about a warmer cloak.”
He was still smiling when he said, “Come on. We’ll be inside before you know it.”
True to his word, they had the horses stabled and found their way into the pub in short order. The moment they were inside, Synne sighed at the warmth. While Lachlan asked about rooms, she looked around at the many faces, some who looked their way, and some who didn’t.
Lachlan glanced at her and jerked his chin as he walked away. She followed him to a back table. A tankard and a pitcher of water were set on the table as well as two bowls of food. She didn’t look at him as she grabbed the ale and took a long drink.
She felt his eyes on her, but she didn’t care. That’s what he got for assuming she didn’t like ale.
“Well, then,” he said and motioned to the serving woman for another ale. “I suppose I should ask next time.”
Synne nodded as she spooned the stew into her mouth. “You should. This is delicious.”
He ate his stew slower, seemingly not affected at all by the cold. She was envious that the weather didn’t bother him. She was used to snow and the cold, but during English winters. Scottish ones were another creature altogether.
With her belly full, she sat back and leisurely drank her ale. The tavern was loud, like any other. There were the drunkards who spilled more from their tankards than what got into their mouths. The old men who sat together, eyeing those they didn’t like and grumbling about one thing or another. Then there were the ones who had ducked into the place for some food and drink but otherwise wanted to be left alone. Those could generally be found in the corners.
“Everything looks normal,” she said.
Lachlan made a sound in the back of his throat. He finished off his ale and set his tankard down. “Looks can be deceiving. Our room is the third on the left. I’ve asked for a bath for you. It should be ready by now. I’m going to find you another cloak and see what I can learn from those in the village.”
Synne pulled out her coin purse and handed it to him. “Take what you need for the cloak.”
“I’ve got it,” he said. “Keep that for later.”
“Thank you.”
He flashed her a smile and got to his feet. “I’ll be back.”
Synne didn’t even wait until he was gone before she rose. The idea of a bath was too tempting to resist. She grabbed her tankard and took it up the stairs to the rooms. She entered the third to find a servant girl with red hair and a face full of freckles filling a wooden tub full of water, steam rising from the surface.
“Thank you,” Synne told her.
Synne set aside her bow and arrows after the servant had left, then removed her cloak and tossed it onto the bed. Then she took off her boots and undressed before getting into the water.
It felt so good, she sighed in contentment. Her feet were full of pinpricks, they were so cold, but it didn’t take long for them to warm up. She lounged for as long as she dared before she unbraided her hair and scrubbed it as well as her body. The last thing she wanted was to stay too long and have the water cool, so she was shivering again. It was bad enough that she would have nothing to put on when she finished with the bath.
Regardless, she felt like a new person when she stood.
12
With a new cloak for Synne in hand—as well as information—Lachlan made his way back to the tavern and up the stairs. He was surprised that Synne hadn’t been angry to learn there was only one room for the night, and they’d be sharing it. Then again, she wasn’t like other women he knew.
That didn’t mean he didn’t feel the attraction. It meant he fought it.
And it was a losing battle.
He’d kept quiet at the meal because he wasn’t sure if he should room with her. When they traveled, she slept on one side of the fire, and he on the other. This was a room. With a bed. Why that should be any different, he didn’t know. But it was. Staying with her meant tempting himself in ways he wasn’t sure he could handle.
Lachlan paused by the door and listened. There was no sound of sloshing water, so he assumed she was finished with her bath. He opened the door and stepped inside to find Synne standing in the tub, her blond hair wet and hanging to her waist while her body was outlined by the fire in front of her.
Dimly, he heard someone coming up the stairs. He softly closed the door behind him as his gaze took in her back and the outline of her hips. His mouth went dry, and his cock hardened. Blood pounded in his ears as the fire crackled to fill the silence.
There were many things Lachlan wished to do. The first was to go to Synne and pull her into his arms for a long, slow kiss. Then he wanted to run his hands over every inch of her body before he had her screaming in pleasure as he gave her orgasm after orgasm. He’d never wanted someone as fiercely or as fervently as he did Synne.
It was laughable that he’d thought he had been managing his attraction thus far. He realized it had all been an illusion. He’d lusted after her since the first moment he spotted her outside the forest. Once he spoke to her, it had never entered his mind to leave her side.
His hand tightened around the cloak he’d bought for her. He craved to taste her lips, wished he were holding her.
Hungered to know her body.
She looked at him over her shoulder. They stared at each other, neither speaking. The cloak dropped from his numb fingers, falling with a soft whoosh to the floor. In the next breath, he saw Synne shiver from the cold air. Lachlan slowly walked to her, their gazes never breaking. When he reached her, he bent and retrieved the towel that had been left near the fire to warm. He opened it wide and waited.
Seconds ticked by before Synne turned her back to him once more and allowed him to wrap the towel around her. Then he held her hand as she stepped from the water to stand near the hearth. Being so near to her, he saw the beads of water on her skin and ached to lick them.
She didn’t release his hand as she turned to face him. He didn’t know what to say, or if he should say anything. He’d never sought out female companionship, but Synne wasn’t like others. That was partly what made him long for her as he did. Her beauty was just an added benefit.
His gaze lowered to her neck and shoulders. That’s when he saw that there was something on her skin. The shadows had kept him from seeing it before. As if sensing his interest, she shook her head to move her wet hair and leaned her head back so he could see better.
Below each collarbone was a boar’s head, one facing the other. Intricate knotwork extended out and up over her shoulders to disappear onto her back. Lachlan reached out and touched her skin. It was smooth, but the design was beautiful. Synne then turned around and lifted her long length of hair so he could see that the ink extended all the way around her back in one smooth design.
“The Norse believed that animal spirits, called fylgia, accompanied their gods. The boar was the fylgia of Freya, the goddess of love. It was called Hildisvini, or Battle Swine, and was always with Freya in wars. I dreamed of boars often. A few years later, I found one injured and saved it
. Asa told me that the boar was my fylgia, and gave me this tattoo,” Synne explained in a soft voice.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
She dropped her hair over one shoulder and dropped the towel so he could see her entire back. “This is a Yggdrasil in Norse, or the Tree of Life for the Celts.”
Lachlan was awestruck by the branches and roots that twisted into more knotwork while the design took up her entire back. “Amazing.”
“This is a symbol of the connection between all things in the world. As above, so below. Nothing can die, and everything is in a constant state of unending transformation.”
Lachlan was mesmerized. “Do you have more?”
Synne turned to face him and held out her left arm to show the underside and the ink there. “This is a Web of Wyrd, but it’s also known as Skuld’s Net. It connects the past, present, and future. It’s said that the Web of Wyrd was woven by the Nornir, the Shapers of Destiny. It’s constructed of nine staves and all the runes.”
“Meaning?” he asked while looking at the symbol, which was the length of his middle finger and half the width.
“Meaning the Web of Wyrd symbolizes all the possibilities of the past, present, and future.” She gently pulled her arm from his hand and stepped back so he could get a view of her.
Lachlan’s breath lodged in his throat when he saw her body. Pert breasts with pink-tipped nipples that were hard. Smooth, creamy skin. His gaze traveled down her stomach to the indent of her waist and the flare of her hips. His perusal halted when she shifted slightly so he saw the outside of her right thigh. Upon it was a circle with runes that looked a little like a compass.
“It’s a Vegvisir and means that which shows the way. It’s the Viking compass that provides necessary assistance as well as guidance to return home unharmed.”
