by Ann Gimpel
Amid murmured thanks, he gestured at Raene and walked toward where she’d left his blanket. Her energy pulsed beside him, warm and accepting, but he could feel her mind brimming with things she wanted to ask.
As was common with Arcadia, they reached the blanket far more quickly than on the journey away from its location. Raene wrapped the length of finely woven wool around herself. Her forehead furrowed in thought.
“This is so strange,” she murmured.
“What is?” He prepared magic to move them to Scotland’s side of the barrier.
“How clothing comes and goes here.” She stood taller and met his eyes with hers. The turquoise was more silvery in this light. “And the magic is so thick, I breathe it with every movement of my lungs.”
He angled his head, regarding her intently. “Do ye find it unpleasant?”
“Nay. I’m beginning to view my power as a mostly untapped resource.”
“’Tis, indeed, but ye’ve lived primarily as a human. They doona value what they canna explain.”
She snorted. “It’s worse than that. It frightens them. I’ve taken great pains to hide anything out of the ordinary.”
“What do ye do, lass?”
She grinned. It lightened her features and made her unbelievably lovely. “I run a bakeshop in Wick.”
He grinned back. “Splendid!”
“Why? What’d you have in mind?”
He opened his mouth to reply but shut it equally quickly. He’d been about to propose she teleport home and whip up some scones, but she owed him nothing. For him to assume otherwise would be wrong.
Now, if she offered to make them pastries or a meal, it was another matter entirely.
“Well?” she urged.
“Nothing.” He focused the power he’d summoned. “Let’s leave afore something else happens on this side of the veil.”
“Good idea.” She placed a hand lightly on his arm and rode the coattails of his magic to the island he’d laid claim to.
Chapter 6
Raene was so full of magic, she felt it each time she swallowed, each time she blinked. Every muscle movement, no matter how slight, reminded her of the enchantment she’d been a part of when the trees had joined the battle. How could she ever return to her bakery? Her simple life there—one she’d been more-or-less satisfied with—would feel flat, dull, uninspired.
I have a few months, she reminded herself. Not all problems required immediate solutions. Riding herd on her magic had never been a problem before, but maybe that was because she’d never used it much.
With Aegir’s power surrounding her and her own pushing for recognition from within, she basked in waves of light shimmering around her as they came out in the same spot they’d left: the island’s high point.
“Do you always return to the same place?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Ye control the travel spell, same as any other one. Arcadia has many gateways. We could have exited from any of them, but as the Arch Druid pointed out, I need to remain close enough to return quickly.”
She pulled the blanket closer around herself. A chill air blew up off the North Sea. Not having clothes was an inconvenience, but she’d left hers in the cavern where her skin had lain.
He must have divined her thoughts because he said, “I havena much here, lass, but there is a robe if ye’d like to wrap yourself in it. ’Tisn’t as warm as the blanket, but mayhap more convenient since ye can sash it.”
She looked away, acutely aware of her nakedness beneath the blanket. “I never worry about clothes whilst I’m away from my bakeshop.”
Interest flared from his eyes, more blue than green in this light, when he asked, “Do ye spend the entire time ye’re not in Wick as a Selkie, then?”
“Aye. It’s my only opportunity, and I take full advantage of it. I love my seal body. It’s difficult to give it up when I return to my other life.” Heat rose from her chest and over the top of her head. She’d never admitted how much her time in the sea meant before, not out loud and to another person, but then who would she have told such a thing to?
Approval flowed from him. She was still surrounded by his magic, and she felt it as keenly as if he’d used words. “Come with me. I’ll find that robe for you. Ye willna have to keep hanging onto the edges of the blanket.”
Part of her wanted to stay and spend time with him, but she had a mission. Finding Gregor was important, now that she had a name. “How hard will it be to locate my da?”
Aegir frowned. “Why do ye wish to? He broke our laws. If ye show up and identify yourself, his pod may kill you.”
She took a step back and licked at suddenly dry lips. “I don’t understand. He’s who broke your covenant. Why would they take it out on me?”
“They know him. He’s their prince, married to their queen. They’d assume ye were lying to discredit their liege.”
“But they could use magic to determine I’m his daughter,” she protested.
“They could, but they probably won’t. Selkies are a rather reactionary lot. We live practically forever, and we enjoy sameness. ’Tis part of the allure of remaining in the sea. It’s constant. A known quantity.”
Aegir moved close enough to drop his hands onto her shoulders. “How old are you, lass?”
She screwed her face into a wry expression. “Never ask a lady her age.”
“Fair enough, but ye’ve gone this far through your life without laying eyes on your da. ’Tisn’t as if he’ll claim you as heir to his line. He has other rightfully born children.”
Sorrow arrowed into her heart and burrowed further, entering her soul. The truth was stark and harsh, and it hurt. She battled the quick stab of tears. Gregor had been a bastard to her mother. He’d set a spell that would have meant her death if she’d revealed his identity.
Raene forced herself to hold Aegir’s direct gaze. “It makes no sense. I owe him nothing, yet I wish to see for myself who he is. Mum wasn’t some simpering fool. He must have been special for her to take him into her bed.”
Aegir moved to her side and guided her down a well-worn path. She assumed it led to the home he’d built deep within the heart of the island, but she didn’t fight him. Not knowing who’d sired you would leave a serious hole in anyone’s world, and she didn’t apologize for her desire to meet her da.
Something he’d said reared up and slapped her. She came to an abrupt halt. “You know my da.” It wasn’t a question. Aegir had said as much when he’d revealed the existence of other rightfully born heirs.
He stopped and turned slowly until he faced her. “Aye. ’Tis an unusual name for a Selkie. He rules the next nearest pod.”
“Where is it?” She started to place her hands on her hips, but the blanket slipped down her shoulders and she caught it before it bared too much of her.
“Come with me. Let me get you that robe, and we’ll have something to eat—” he began.
“Where is the next nearest pod?” She inserted spaces between the words and didn’t move.
Aegir narrowed his eyes. “I propose a bargain.”
“What might that be?” She bit down hard on her lower lip. He had what she needed. It would save her oodles of time, and—
“Ye will accompany me to my dwelling. We will eat and talk. Once I’m convinced ye’re not going to run off half-cocked and get yourself killed—”
“That’s a pile of crap.” She punched the air with a fist. The blanket slipped precariously down one shoulder, but she ignored it. “You don’t rule me.” Another jab at the air when what she wanted to do was rain her fists against his chest.
“Nay,” he agreed, “I doona.” He took a measured breath. “But we’ve become comrades in arms. We’ve shared Arcadia, and it has created a bond betwixt us. I care about what happens to you, lassie.”
“Don’t lassie me,” she hissed.
“Ye dinna let me finish a little bit ago,” he inserted smoothly, not ruffled by her ire. She supposed kings got a lot of guff from their minions, though, so
he must have had practice deflecting pissed-off Selkies.
“Once we’ve recovered from the battle with the Fae, I’ll accompany you to Gregor’s pod. We willna remain long, only till ye’re satisfied.” Before she could say anything, he continued. “Ye willna reveal aught about yourself. I’ll merely say ye’re my subject, and no one will look any deeper.”
“I scarcely require an escort.” She shook herself and repositioned the blanket. “I’ve been on my own for a long time.”
“Aye, in this instance, ye do, indeed, require an escort,” he corrected her. “Remember what happened when ye approached my pod? They dinna exactly welcome you with open flippers.”
“Why didn’t they?” she countered.
“I already told you, but it bears repeating. Lone Selkies are often spies for rival pods.”
Her eyes widened. She’d heard him the first time but hadn’t absorbed the implications. “Internecine warfare is common among us?”
“Not common, yet not so rare as all that, either.”
Raene narrowed her eyes. “Why are you offering to help me?”
“Because it’s important to you.”
His words were so simple, and yet so powerful, they slammed into her like an out-of-control train. No one had done anything for her since long before she’d left her mum’s home. A host of conflicting emotions battled for ascendency. Gratitude. Relief. Shame. Sorrow.
“I shouldn’t require help,” she mumbled. It was tough to talk around the thick place in her throat.
“Och, lass. We all need assistance at one time or another.” He hooked a hand under her forearm and began walking again.
They continued down the hill and around a bend to an opening in a rocky cliff. It was cleverly concealed by magic and so unobtrusive she’d never have noticed it unless she were looking. A low tunnel opened into a rounded cavern lit with magical globes suspended in the air at strategic intervals. It was warm within, and the crackle of a fire drew her gaze to a hearth crafted out of a rocky wall. The flames must be magical because there was nothing much to burn on the island.
Colorful cushions were scattered atop a thick, patterned rug. An alcove held kitchen accoutrements. Aegir vanished behind a curtain at one side of the cozy space, and she walked to the ledge holding a couple of pots, various herbs gathered into bundles, and an icebox. She pulled the door open and peered within. Cheeses and other items that weren’t immediately identifiable lined the small space.
“Here you go.” Aegir tapped her shoulder. When she turned, he held out a woolen robe lined with shearling.
“But this is too nice,” she protested. “Besides, then you won’t have anything to relax in.”
“’Tis fine. Take it, please.” He pressed it into her hands and walked to the hearth, crouching in front of it with his back toward her.
Raene recognized he was offering her privacy. She let go of the blanket and slipped her arms into the plush robe’s sleeves. It felt heavenly against her skin, and it held Aegir’s musky scent. She belted it around herself. “I’m decent. You can turn around.”
She folded the blanket and bent to place it on top of a cushion.
He rose and turned slowly. A smile spread across his face. “Looks better on you than it ever did on me. What did ye find in the kitchen? I can go fishing if we’re thin on provisions. And I’m happy to cook for us,” he hurried on. “No need for ye to trouble yourself with—”
She cut off his flow of words with a gesture. “I like making food. It’s why I chose to open a bakery. Do you have flour?” At his nod, she continued. “I can make us biscuits with cheese in them. Fish would round out a meal nicely.”
He bowed, sweeping one arm to the side. “Back verra soon. Fish are easy.”
She grinned. “Aye, because you’ll take to your seal form.”
He laughed along with her. “Ye know me too well, lassie, and we’ve only just met.” Still laughing, he trotted smartly out the door.
She felt a flare of magic with his unique signature all over it, and understood he’d shifted. Too late, she realized, he’d said he had flour but hadn’t told her where. She tried telepathy. It wasn’t second nature to her, so she hoped he’d hear.
“Bottom of the stack of bins,” floated back in response to her query.
Raene scanned the tidy counter. Aegir had taken advantage of a natural stone shelf and built around it. A cone-shaped affair maybe two-feet high sat in a corner on the floor. She squatted in front of it and pulled the door open. A blast of heat puffed out.
She shook her head in amazement. She hadn’t been aware Scotland had much in the way of geothermal activity, but Aegir had harnessed the earth’s power to create an oven. She’d wondered how she’d manage to bake biscuits, but the answer was right in front of her.
Rising to her feet, she located a bowl, found the flour, and grabbed a wheel of cheese and butter from the icebox. This time, she looked more closely and located a block of sea ice melting in a ceramic bin. She’d known the apparatus was an old-fashioned cold box, but years had come and gone since she’d seen refrigeration that didn’t come courtesy of gas or electricity.
As she worked, shaving bits of cheese with a sharp knife, and mixing everything with her hands, she wondered how Aegir and his pod did things in their usual environment. Did they live beneath the sea? She assumed they did, but seals had to breathe, just not very often.
The pump handle delivered seawater, and she rinsed dough debris off her hands. She needed a bit of liquid for her dough, and salt water would serve two purposes, so she sprinkled in enough for the mixture in her bowl to hold together. Another search yielded a large, cast-iron skillet. She shaped the biscuit dough, pressed it into the pan, and slid it into the oven. Since she wasn’t certain of the temperature, she’d have to keep a close eye on things.
She was just rinsing her hands again when Aegir hustled inside, his hands full of two good-sized fish, their scales still shiny with droplets of ocean water. He crinkled his nose. “Mmm. Smells wonderful. Ye located the oven, I ken. Mostly, I wanted you to know I’m back. I’ll just dress these and put them on a barbeque affair I rigged near the cave.”
“What are you burning for fuel?”
He chuckled, looking young and carefree for a moment. “Magic, lass. What else?”
She wiped her hands on a square of terrycloth hanging from a nearby hook. “Is that what powers the oven?” She nodded toward its corner.
“Aye. What did ye suppose created the heat?” He furled his brows.
“Geothermal activity. The oven is on the floor, so I assumed you’d found a way to take advantage of what lies beneath.”
“In a manner of speaking, I did. I crafted a funnel to pull heat from the liquid layer just beneath the earth’s crust. Doesn’t require much energy from me to keep it ready whilst I’m here. I cut the flow afore I leave.”
The smell of baked bread sent her scurrying to oven level. When she opened the door, the biscuits were indeed done. Each sat in a pool of delicately melted cheese. Raene folded the terrycloth to make a hot pad and drew the skillet out of the oven.
“And now it smells so delectable,” Aegir said, “I’ll have a hard time forcing myself back outside to cook the fish.”
“If you cleaned them, we could cook them in the same pan,” she suggested.
He sent an approving glance skittering across the expanse of the room. “Grand idea. Back in a flash. Ye might want to poke your head outside. It finally stopped raining, and the sunset is glorious, but it willna last for long.”
Raene followed him out of the cave. Breath caught in her throat. The sky was alight with reds and oranges with burnished golden edges. Aegir had moved to the shore and was hunkered down to split the fishes’ bellies.
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s gorgeous.”
He glanced up at her. “I thought ye might enjoy it. Scotland’s skies aren’t always gray.”
Raene laughed. “Only maybe 80 percent of the time, but it makes the oth
er twenty that much more memorable.” She stood watching the sunset until the colors began to fade. Aegir had been right. The entire display didn’t last more than ten minutes. She shivered. His robe was warm, but an icy breeze blew off the turbulent sea.
“See you back inside.”
“Aye, lassie. I’m nearly done.”
She hurried into the cozy cavern and moved the biscuits to the stone ledge after brushing it off. By the time Aegir returned, the pan was empty and ready for the gutted fillets, and she’d chopped some herbs for a garnish. A pat of butter on top of the herbs, and she pushed the skillet back inside the oven.
Dusting her hands together, she said, “Won’t take long. Fish cooks quickly.”
He moved past her to the pump and got the water flowing to wash his hands. She tossed the terrycloth square his way.
“Would ye care for spirits with our meal?” He hung the towel back on its hook.
“Are they crafted with magic as well?” she asked with a smile. It was hard not to smile around Aegir. His aura shone around him, brilliant with color.
“Och, I’d love to claim full credit, but my Selkie kin keep this place stocked. All of us spend time here supporting Arcadia. I may have built this cavern, but the others all use it.”
“I’d love a glass of something,” she said and bent to check on the fish. It was bubbling. Almost there, but not quite. “I’ll get plates ready for us. I found them whilst I was hunting for the skillet.”
He opened a cupboard she hadn’t noticed before because it blended in with the dirt and rock walls and drew out a bottle and two tumblers. She split two biscuits each for them and spread butter between the layers. The pastries smelled so good, she couldn’t resist sampling a few crumbs.
“I saw that,” he called from in front of the fire where he was arranging cushions and pouring amber liquid into glasses.
“Had to make certain I wasn’t about to poison you,” she pointed out, managing to keep a straight face.
When she peeked this time, the fish was done. She set the skillet nearby and transferred thick chunks of Arctic Char to their plates. Balancing a fork on one, she crossed the room and handed it to Aegir before returning for the plate she’d made for herself.
