“I know. Me too. I’m just thankful that most days it’s not an issue here. And at least I can stop anyone from being a real threat thanks to my magic. Most don’t have that option.”
“You guys just hurry back, okay? We will all be eagerly awaiting you New Year’s.”
I stared at him a long moment. As he turned to leave, I quickly pulled him back around toward me so that I could kiss his cheek goodbye. I’d be counting the minutes until he returned.
Marcus stood back as he watched the usually unflappable Brachan lose his cool on the cold-faced, blatantly racist innkeeper.
“What do ye mean, ye have no rooms? There isna a single patron in yer tavern. If ye had even one room occupied, ye would have people down below, but ye doona, do ye? ’Twould be a mistake to turn us away.”
“I’m sorry. I doona mean either of ye harm, but I’ve no rooms for the likes of ye.”
Marcus reached forward and grabbed at Brachan’s arm as he watched his friend’s fist tighten into a ball. “Let’s just keep going. We can spare a little magic to give our horses strength and keep us warm for the night.”
As Brachan turned to face him, the innkeeper closed the door in their faces.
“I know we’ve the magic, but ’tis the principle of it.”
“While I appreciate where you’re coming from, we’re not going to change history or the way people think by breaking that old idiot’s nose.”
“Psst…”
The sound came from behind him. As Brachan leaned to the side to look toward the noise, Marcus faced it.
A boy not much older than twenty stood a few yards away, a lantern in his hand to light up the night.
“Old man Aklen is a horse’s arse. If ye need a place to stay, ye can follow me. I’ve stables and a warm home.”
“Ye do?”
Brachan seemed skeptical, and Marcus didn’t miss the way the boy hesitated slightly before answering.
“Aye. ’Twas my da’s but he’s long since passed. ’Tis mine now. Come on. I’ve even a recent kill we can roast on the fire.”
Marcus stepped toward the boy and offered him his hand. “Are you sure? It would be much appreciated.”
The boy took his hand and Marcus smiled at his strong grip.
“Aye, quite sure. I’m Jimmie.”
“I’m Marcus. This is Brachan. We are just passing through the village. We will be on our way in the morning.”
Jimmie stepped away and began to lead them to the last home at the edge of the village. The lad’s father must have been a successful trader for it was the nicest home by far.
Brachan clasped the lad on the shoulder once they reached the stable. “Thank ye, lad. It means more than ye can possibly know.”
“’Tis Christmas. ’Tis the least I can do for ye. Aklen would do good to remember it.”
Chapter 17
“Are you ever going to tell me what’s the matter? You never come to the garden, yet you’ve been watching me work in here all morning. I can see it on your face, Liv. You know as well as I do that you’ll feel better if you just spit it out.”
She looked as solemn-faced as I’d ever seen her, although I’d seen this breakdown coming for weeks now. The initial attraction of being away from home had worn off, and I now suspected she felt rather lost.
“I think ’twould be ungrateful of me to express how I feel.”
“Don’t worry about that with me. There’s no right or wrong way to feel. You can’t help how you feel about anything.”
She stared at me, crossed her arms, and dropped to the floor so that we were eye level with each other.
“Ye did just hear the words that came out of yer mouth, dinna ye? Why doona ye take yer own advice? Then mayhap I’ll be more inclined to listen to ye.”
I’d said nothing to Olivia about my conflicting emotions, but it seemed that Marcus wasn’t the only one who found me remarkably easy to read.
“What do you mean?”
She took the watering pail from me and grabbed my hand to help me up from the ground.
“If ye believed ’twas fine for ye to feel the way ye feel, ye would be back in Marcus’ bed by now.”
I hoped no one else was able to see how much I cared for him.
“Is it that obvious?”
She shook her head. “Only to me.”
“Well, that’s some comfort, but I don’t want to talk about me, Liv. Haven’t you heard the expression, ‘do as I say, not as I do?’ Now, what’s up?”
She sighed and covered her face with her hands. “I’m so pleased to be away from home. I truly am. I canna tell ye how thankful I am that ye allowed me to come with ye. I enjoy the freedom I have here. I love the castle, the people, and staying alone in the cabin is no longer as strange as it once was, but Silva, I am not content.
“I know ’tis foolish, but part of me believed that leaving home would force my life to begin. I doona know what I’m meant to do, where I’m meant to be. I only know that I need more in my days than wandering about the castle and gossiping with Davina. I’m restless, and I canna bear it much longer.”
Of course she was restless. Olivia was young. She needed adventure, and as hesitant as I was to admit it, even a little bit of trouble. At least back home, she had her pursuit of rebellion to keep her busy. Here there was nothing for her to rebel against. Without that distraction, she was quickly losing her mind.
“You need to work, Liv. Why don’t we speak to Raudrich and see if he can give you something to busy yourself with? Or perhaps, we can go down to the village and see if we can find something respectable for you to do?”
I might as well have suggested that she eat worms. She looked disgusted.
“I doona think work will solve anything.”
Brushing the dirt from my hands, I leaned back to look at her. “Why are you so sure of that? Work helps just about anything.”
“How old were ye when ye first fell in love, Silva?”
I smiled at her as her brow creased. “Ah. That’s the thing then.”
“Ye dinna answer my question.”
“You won’t like my answer. Ross was the first man I truly ever loved. I was twenty-seven.”
To Olivia, twenty-seven surely seemed ancient.
“I doona believe ye.”
“It’s true. Now, I definitely fell in lust a few times before that, but love, not so much.”
“I wish to fall in lust, then.”
“No, you don’t. It’s not worth it, I promise you. It’s still quite possible to end up with a broken heart even if you aren’t in love.”
“Well, then let my heart be broken. I just need something, Silva—something to make me feel as if I’m the woman that I am. Will ye take me somewhere?”
“Where?”
“Davina spoke of a traveling fortune teller that will have a tent set up in the woods the day after tomorrow. She only comes to The Isle once every three years, for many here doona accept what she does. Davina and her father are going. Will ye take me?”
I could think of nothing less appealing than hearing my future. After all the pain of the past year, I was more than happy to just take things day by day.
“Why would you want to learn your future? If she speaks good news, all you will do is live in anticipation. If it’s bad, it will fill you with fear. Either way, it takes the joy out of the day you’re living right now.”
She didn’t appear convinced.
“’Twill do neither of those things. I only wish to know how long I must wait. If ’tis another decade, then I shall make my peace with it. If ’tis soon then I shall ready my heart for it.”
Skeptical, I sat in silence just long enough to drive Liv crazy. The likelihood of the woman’s predictions being any more than faerie tales was slim. Surely, giving Olivia one night of entertainment wouldn’t hurt.
“Okay, fine, but you must promise me that you won’t put too much weight in anything she tells you, okay? Ask Davina if we can accompany her and her father. I don�
��t want us to wander off into the woods on our own since we aren’t very familiar with The Isle.”
She smiled and pushed herself up from the ground. “I promise. Thank ye, Silva. Thank ye, thank ye, thank ye.”
She bent to kiss the top of my head and quickly skipped out of the garden.
There was an eerie feeling to the woman’s tent. I couldn’t deny it no matter how much I wanted to. Only a small crowd—the most eccentric residents of The Isle—waited outside for their turn with the mysterious woman. The closer it came to our turn inside the tent, the more I wanted to retreat back to the castle. My dread doubled with each passing minute.
“Liv, I’ll go inside if you want me to, but I don’t want a reading, okay?”
She watched me carefully and reached out to squeeze my arm. “Doona tell me ye are frightened? Ye told me just this morning that ye dinna believe in this.”
I didn’t want to believe in it, but the truth was, after everything that had happened in my life, I found it hard to disbelieve anything outright.
“Not frightened—just anxious. I’ll accompany you, but I’ve no desire to be read by her.”
The quick rustle of fabric preceded Pinkie and Davina’s exit from the tent. Neither looked too traumatized and my nerves relaxed just enough to help me take the next step toward the tent Liv seemed so determined to enter.
The soothsayer’s setup was simple and bare. Rather than the pile of pillows and scattered candles I was expecting, the tent was lit with just enough light so that we could see the outline of the woman as we approached her. She sat at a small wooden table with a candle lit at its corner. Two chairs sat opposite her.
“Ye should leave. I’ve no room for such energy here.”
I twisted to look behind me to see if anyone had entered the tent behind us. It was only when I turned back to see Liv staring at me that I realized the old woman meant me.
“I…I don’t know what you mean.”
The woman stood and extended a dimly lit finger in my direction. “Ye doona wish to be here, lass. Yer dread has filled this room and I’ve no need of it. I shall read the young one, but not ye. Go and leave us be.”
Shrugging, I turned to do as the old woman instructed. She read me correctly. I would rather be just about anywhere else.
Before I could step away, Olivia reached for my arm.
“Please don’t make her leave. She does wish to be here. I promise she does.”
I shook my head and tried to wave Olivia on without me, but my stepsister only tightened her grip and pulled me deeper into the tent as the soothsayer spoke once more.
“No, lass. She doesna. She is frightened of me and rightly so. With such an energy hanging over the lass, the reading is bound to bring her unwanted news. Something within her senses it. If she is not ready for it, she should go.”
Olivia leaned in to speak to me in a half-whisper. “Did ye hear that, Silva? Ye canna tell me that ye are not a little curious as to what she might tell ye?”
“Not in the slightest.”
The old woman laughed and beckoned us forward with a wave of her hand. “If ye will try and release some of yer fear, I will allow ye to stay as I read the fortune of the younger lass. I shall say nothing of yer own future if ye doona wish to hear it.”
Immediately, my fear subsided, and I nodded as I let out a shaky breath and followed Olivia over to the two wooden chairs in front of the woman.
Once we were seated, she directed every bit of her attention to Olivia, allowing me to watch on in curious fascination.
“Will ye allow me to take yer hand, lass?”
Olivia didn’t hesitate as she put both hands on the table. “Do ye mean my palms?”
“No. I doona read palms. All I need is for my skin to touch yers, and I shall be able to sense the question ye most wish for me to answer. If we are fortunate, I shall see what I need to in order to answer yer question, as well.”
Olivia jumped a little as the old woman enveloped Liv’s slender fingers within her own, and for the longest moment, we all sat in silence.
After some time, the woman opened her eyes, nodded gently, and smiled before she spoke. “Yer life will change much more quickly than ye realize, lass. Be hopeful for the coming year, for it shall arrive with yer dreams in tow.”
Olivia beamed before squealing in response to the fortuneteller’s words. “Are ye certain?”
“Aye, though I shall give ye this warning, lass. Answered dreams rarely complete us in the way we hope they shall. Ye would do well to learn more about yerself before ye give yerself to someone else.”
I knew firsthand just how right the mystic was about that. Ross’ love had just about devoured me whole, and I’d spent so much more time alone—time learning about who I was and what I wanted—before meeting him than Olivia could even fathom now. If I’d met him when I’d been Olivia’s age, I’m not sure I would’ve survived his loss. There wouldn’t have been enough of me in the relationship to begin with to remain standing after he was gone.
I understood her desire to be loved, to feel alive and wanted, and to be free, but love was a dangerous thing. If I was honest, I didn’t much care for the mystic’s reading. For Olivia’s sake, I hoped it was quite a long time before such love found its way to her.
I could tell that Olivia didn’t know how to respond to the woman’s warning, and I suspected she didn’t wish to ask any more questions for fear that any further revelations from the mystic might deflate the hope that had suddenly swelled up within her.
“I will try to learn something new every day, miss. Thank ye for the reading.”
The woman nodded and stood once more. “Ye may leave payment with my man outside.”
For the first time since we sat down, the woman glanced over in my direction. The small hairs on my arm stood up.
“Breathe, lass. I’ll not read ye, but I’ll not be able to sleep if I doona at least tell ye this.” She leaned in closer. As if pulled by some invisible magnet, I leaned toward her in return. “What ye believed ye laid to rest on the top of that mountain haunts ye still. Unfinished business hangs over ye like a cloud, lass. With all ye know now, there is naught ye can do to change it. There is so much ye doona know.”
Raudrich’s revelation that Ross had known about the portal at Cagair had unearthed unfinished business between me and my late husband. I was angry with him for lying to me, for keeping secrets that shouldn’t have been only his. I knew that had to be what the woman meant. She’d somehow seen a glimpse of what Raudrich had told me.
The possibility that she meant something else entirely set me on edge, probably because I’d held the same suspicions myself for some time.
Was it possible that Ross had kept even more secrets from me? Secrets that only time would bring to the surface?
Chapter 18
“I canna tell if ye are pleased or distraught by what we’ve learned.”
Marcus didn’t answer Brachan right away. His mind was desperately trying to make sense of everything. The old druid and his wife had spoken in riddles. He couldn’t begin to guess how much of what they’d told them was actually true.
“I am overwhelmed by it. If they are correct, then the only way to return Freya to life is to do the one thing that we all believed would truly kill her—Machara must be defeated. How can both things be true?”
Marcus watched as Brachan considered the question. It was one of the things Marcus admired most about Brachan—he never said anything without thought. He wished he were more like that himself.
“I doona believe that both are true. Instead, I took their words to mean that where we once thought only one outcome was possible, there are now two. If we do nothing, if we doona learn the spell that can save Freya, she will die when Machara does. If we keep searching and find the magic we are missing, then she can be saved.”
Marcus thought on something else the druid had told them—if Freya’s body was now decayed to bone, she could never be saved from her current state.
“Assuming Freya’s body remains intact where it is buried.”
Brachan nodded slowly. “Aye, but I am not so worried about that. If I’ve any understanding of the way Machara thinks, then Freya’s body will be as whole as ’twas the day Machara spelled her. Machara must know that there is a way to return Freya to life. If so, she would never destroy something that gives her the power to bargain with Nicol.”
Marcus suspected that Brachan was right, but he dreaded finding out for certain. If Freya’s body was now only bone, it would break his heart in a way he wasn’t prepared for. But even if her body was whole, they still had so many other problems to solve.
“What about the women, Brachan? We all know that we do not possess the power to defeat Machara. Nine women hold the power. We know some have already come and done their part, but what about the rest? Freya is fading more each day. I’m afraid that if we leave it up to time to bring these women to The Isle, Freya will be gone long before Machara is.”
Brachan sighed and pulled his horse to a stop. Marcus quickly did the same.
“Might I speak plainly with ye, Marcus? Ever since Raudrich spoke to us of Silva and her husband, a nagging suspicion has bothered me.”
“Always.”
“Do ye ever find it strange that ye are here with us?”
Marcus couldn’t hold back the snort of laughter that rose up at Brachan’s question. “Every damn day.”
“I doona believe ’twas ye who was meant to be here.”
He was happy in his life, no matter how unexpected it was. It felt right—strange as it was—that he should be here.
“Why do you say that?”
“Why would a man born centuries ahead of this time, a man who never had any inkling of magic within him before arriving here, be destined to join a legendary group of men bound to this isle? I canna believe all has happened as ’twas meant to.”
Marcus frowned as he thought of Laurel and Kate. Their destinies were so clearly tied to The Isle it was unquestionable, and they had been born hundreds of years in the future.
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