by Kari Edgren
I held up a hand to interrupt. “Look at it logically. You know I’m not fully human. So what other explanation is there for my kind? Why would I lie to you about being Brigid’s descendant? I gave you the truth. Take it or leave it, it’s your choice.”
The battle had turned to a full-scale war. On one side stood everything he had ever known to be true. On the other stood the irrefutable facts of what I had done today, stunning Sam and Anna, healing their brains, healing the dog and the bite mark on his hand.
Turning, James looked at the stream. A squirrel scurried across the far bank, up the side of a tree. One of the last remaining leaves drifted slowly to the ground. “Does Lord Fitzalan know of your...ancestry?”
“Henry’s known since last summer. The duke knows as well, which is why I believe he changed his mind about me. Apparently, he’s not opposed to having a goddess born for a daughter-in-law.”
James took a moment to mull this last bit over. Then he turned back to me. “If I accept Brigid is real, how did your kind come about?”
Now we were getting somewhere. “Brigid married King Bres and they had three sons. I am one of their descendants.” Easy as that.
“And Deri, is she the same as you?”
“Similar, though not the same. She’s descended from Cailleach, the goddess of death and disease. So where I can heal, Deri can kill.” I wanted to stop there, but for James’s sake, I continued. “And you may need to revise your opinion of witches if what I’ve learned of late is true. Deri may also descend from the witch Carmen. Have you ever heard of her?”
James shook his head.
“She was responsible for laying waste to Ireland long ago. Legend has it that once she died, King Bres buried her beneath the oak trees in Wexford.”
The name connected immediately. “Is that why Deri is bringing Nora there? To visit her mother’s grave?”
“It’s possible that Carmen is still alive and trapped somewhere near Wexford. For some reason Deri thinks Nora may be the key to set her free.”
James’s gaze drifted once more over my shoulder, I assumed to the large oak at my back. Or perhaps to nothing at all, after everything I had given him to think about. Silence settled between us. A long minute passed when he pinched the bridge of his nose as though fighting off a headache. “This is not what I expected,” he said. “If you would have asked me yesterday about any of this, I would have laughed outright. Now, I would be a fool to believe otherwise.”
It was a lot to take in at once, and much more than James had originally agreed to. Though I hated the idea of traveling alone, in good conscience, I had to offer him a way out. “Mr. Roth, there is no loss in honor if you choose to turn back now.”
He looked like I had just slapped him. “I will never stop, not until Nora and Lord Fitzalan are safe. Whatever awaits us, so be it.”
“Even the loss of your life?” I raised a brow in question. “You’ve seen the madness Deri can cause. What you haven’t seen is how she can spread disease with a single touch. And if Carmen is real, she will be a hundred times more dangerous than Deri.” I hesitated before pushing to the end. “According to the legend, it took four full-blooded Tuatha Dé to subdue the witch during her bloody rampage. For all of our sakes, I pray to God that she isn’t real. Or if she is, that King Bres stripped her powers when he imprisoned her. Otherwise I am not sure we will prevail.” I lifted my chin a fraction of an inch as if death did not scare me. Nor the death of those I loved most in this world.
James considered me for a moment, right before he did the most astounding thing. Putting a hand on my shoulder, he pulled me into an embrace. “We have an agreement, Miss Kilbrid, and shall continue together even if the devil himself awaits us.”
My head rested against him, and I found the closeness oddly calming. There was nothing romantic about the gesture, nothing more than two people in need of comfort.
“The devil it may be,” I murmured into his chest.
A low rumbling sound came from the direction of the inn. James dropped his arms and stepped back awkwardly. “That must be the London coach. We best be off if you’re ready.”
My emotions felt too raw to leave just yet. “Go ahead. I need a few minutes to collect my thoughts.”
He nodded. “I’ll saddle the horses and then find that cat so you can heal it. No sense leaving it to suffer with Deri’s imprint burned into its brain.”
Alone, I stared at the stream and attempted to drown my fears in the clear water that flowed over a bed of moss-covered rocks. Henry and Nora will be all right... Deri will die... Carmen will... That fear was too big for the stream, so I shoved it away into the far reaches of my mind. When it tried to creep forward, I pushed it back and set another thought directly on top of it.
James no longer hates me.
We had spent so much time at war, I was relieved to finally be at peace. It seemed surreal and altogether freeing that he knew my true identity. And after hearing his story, I could even sort of understand his initial hostility toward me, as I had been guilty of a similar crime, despising all of the English peerage based on my family’s experience with just a handful of nobles. In time, I had overcome this bias for the most part. I wondered if James could do the same and overcome his views on class in order to have a future with Nora. I prayed he could, for both of their sakes.
A branch snapped in the clearing.
“I’m coming, Mr. Roth.” Pulling my gaze from the river, I turned to leave.
Julian Stroud stood behind me.
Startled, I stumbled back without thinking. “What are you doing here?” The man belonged in London, along with his misguided belief that our shared goddess blood fated us to be together.
His mouth bent to a sneer. “I came to offer you my services, but from what I’ve just seen, you are well tended to.”
In a flash, I recalled the unease from the road. “You followed us!”
“Of course I did.” Julian drew closer, anger burning like coal in his eyes. “And now you’ve some explaining to do.”
Water seeped into my boot. Altering my course, I began to skirt along the bank when my heel snagged on something. I fell backward, catching myself against the enormous oak tree.
“I’ve nothing to say to you.” I straightened myself, while eyeing the path on the far side of the clearing.
Julian loomed in front of me. “You’ve plenty to say, Selah, so I suggest you start talking. Let’s begin with what just happened between you and Mr. Roth.”
Power instinctively shot to my palms. “Don’t push me, Julian. I’m in no mood to be trifled with.” Only a week had passed since he’d grabbed my arm and been severely burned in the process. I doubted he would act so foolhardy again.
He smiled as if also recalling the incident. “As you wish.” With a small bow, he stepped aside and leaned a hand on the tree.
Thank goodness the man could still see reason. “I want you to stop following—”
Something sifted beneath my feet. I glanced down just as a large root burst into the air, showering dirt everywhere. Before I could move, the root snaked around my waist and yanked me hard against the trunk.
Chapter Three
The Gift of Poetry
Air burst from my lungs. I sucked in another mouthful only to release it in an incoherent cry of alarm. Straining forward, I pulled at the thick brown root that held me in place with the efficiency of a rope. Dirt gritted my eyes. I blinked and shook my head, inadvertently setting off another shower of dirt that all but blinded me. Frustrated, I swiped a sleeve across my face to little effect.
Julian chuckled softly, and I whipped my head around to face him. “What did you do?” I demanded. Water streamed from my tear ducts, and I had to blink several more times before his face came into focus.
He eyed the root with a self-satisfied sm
ile. “I would think that self-evident.”
Painfully so, and the stunt would no doubt leave a trail of purple bruises on my stomach. I strained again, the effort nearly splitting me in two. Wet leaves and mud slipped underfoot. Not to be outdone, I dug the heels of my riding boots into the trunk for better leverage. Nothing budged—not the tree, nor the root, nor Julian’s iron will. Sweat coated my forehead. The root bit deeper, and more capillaries burst beneath the skin. When my meal threatened to revisit, I gave up the struggle and sagged against the tree.
“Let me go.” Panic tightened my skin, pulled it like a too small glove over my frame.
“I don’t think so. Not until you’ve answered my questions.”
“Do it now, or I’ll scream bloody murder.”
Julian didn’t even flinch at the threat. “Try it and you’ll find a branch in that lovely mouth of yours.”
I drew in a sharp breath. “You wouldn’t dare!”
He pushed away from the tree to take a position in front of me. “You might be surprised at just what I would dare do right now.”
“You’ve no right to use Brigid’s power this way.”
This earned another laugh. “That’s rich, coming from you, Selah Kilbrid. I had hoped you’d be pleased to know my gift was not limited to cultivating strawberries.” His gaze moved to my lips. “Though that particular skill was not without its benefits.”
My cheeks burned from the blatant reminder of what had occurred between us. “The present situation is more to my liking,” I lied. Not that I wanted to be kissed again, but most activities would be preferable to being strapped to a tree against my will.
Julian’s gaze dropped back to my waist. “I’ve you to thank for the idea. Until our time together in the queen’s garden, I never considered the other uses of such a gift.” He held up a gloved hand for my inspection. “Or have you already forgotten the nasty burns you left me with that night?”
I jutted my chin forward. “Of course not. But I had little choice when you refused to release me.” I dug my fingers beneath the root and tugged. “This...this is imprisonment for no other reason than to serve your whim.”
Power surged in my palm, begging to be of use. We were separated by an arm’s length at best, a distance that would allow for a solid touch. The trick would be catching Julian by surprise before there was time to retreat. A small patch of burgundy waistcoat showed between the edges of his greatcoat—a perfect target if I could just strike fast enough.
Hoping to distract him, I settled my gaze on the opposite bank of the stream. The water gurgled a disinterested chatter. A squirrel sat on a thick tree branch watching us. I tilted my head a fraction of an inch, then narrowed my eyes as though studying something of interest. It didn’t take long before Julian’s eyes followed...
I thrust my hand toward him. He jerked back, and my fingertips barely brushed the rough wool.
Hell’s teeth! How had he moved so fast?
“Now, now, Selah. Burn me again and I’ll leave you here all day.” He glanced toward the sky. “Looks like more rain. Perhaps a good dousing will calm that temper of yours.”
I scowled at him, well aware of the sole remedy for my temper at present—Julian facedown in the mud, and me free from this cursed tree. The idea alone served as a balm of sorts.
“This is folly, Julian. Mr. Roth will eventually come looking for me. Then what will you do? Tie him up as well?” I clamped my teeth together, realizing the mistake too late.
Julian did an exaggerated survey of the clearing. “I will take your suggestion under advisement.”
I darted a look around, really seeing the place for the first time. The woods were dense with undergrowth, and even with the majority of leaves down, James would have no visual warning until the trail dumped into the clearing. I had to do something, other than pray for time to scream before Julian could gag me. As a direct assault was now out of the question, negotiation presented the next best option.
It was no small thing to rid the anger from my voice. “Why don’t you just release me? We’re both adults. Whatever you wish to discuss can be said without my being tied up.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What if I promise not to leave before you’re done speaking? I’ll even swear it on Brigid’s mantle.” There was hardly a more significant symbol for our kind.
A hint of warmth softened his features. “Nor attempt to attack me again?”
I assumed a most sincere expression. “I promise. No more attacks.” Until the root is back underground and I’m sure of a strike, I added wordlessly. At that time, Julian would be done speaking, and I would be free to go without the slightest compromise to my conscience.
He looked at me for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “Trust is a fragile creature, Selah, and what I had for you has been egregiously wounded. Perhaps I shall learn to trust you again someday, when your last betrayal is not so fresh in my mind.”
Good gracious, were we really going to dig up that horse as well?
Any trace of warmth disappeared from his face as his near black eyes bored into mine. “How long did you manage to keep my secret before spilling every word to Lord Fitzalan? A week?”
I released a weary sigh. The horse was out of the ground, maggots and all.
“You know very well why I told Henry about you. My only mistake in the matter was waiting so long. If he’d known from the start that you were goddess born, you never would have had the opportunity to play your games and manipulate me like you did—”
Julian held up a hand to interrupt. “Believe what you will, but from what I just witnessed, your capacity to betray is not limited to me. Tell me, Selah, does Lord Fitzalan know that you’ve run off with his secretary?”
“What do you mean? I didn’t run off with anyone.” At least not in the way Julian meant.
“Really?” he said, incredulous. “Is that why I found you at an inn together not two miles from Mr. Roth’s family estate? Or why you willingly threw yourself into his arms mere hours after Lord Fitzalan left for France?”
“Henry didn’t go to France, Julian. That was just a ruse to keep the duke off our trail.”
Julian snorted in disgust. “Everything you say is a lie. For the past two weeks, I’ve been paying a servant for information of your activities. He sent word after his Grace left last night.”
“I am well aware of your arrangement with the footman, though in this case I’m afraid you received bad information.”
“I don’t think so,” he scoffed. “Knowing that you would do something rash, I rode over to await your next move. At the time, I thought you foolhardy enough to follow Fitzalan to the Continent, but when you started on the road to Bristol, I realized you had a different destination in mind. Even then I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt until I saw you embracing Mr. Roth and your true intentions became clear.” He swept an arm toward the inn. “How long do you think you can hide out here without being discovered? Or do you plan to use the confusion of Nora’s disappearance to slink off even farther together? Perhaps back to your home in the Colonies?” Betrayal hung from his face. “That is a poor price for those who have loved you.”
Placing a hand on each hip, he dropped his head toward the ground. I just stared at the top of his three-cornered hat, too shocked for words. Since leaving London, Julian had concocted a story with less reality than a fairytale. For the most part, he’d seemed a rational man, though more on the scheming side than I preferred, and never did I think he would believe something so nonsensical.
When he looked up, the pain in his eyes caused my chest to constrict involuntarily. “Why did you scorn me, Selah? Was I not good enough for you?”
I shook my head. “You have it all wrong.”
“Then why?” He spread his hands in supplication. “I’ve felt your po
wer, and know that you alone are my equal in this world. Yet you’ve tossed my attentions aside for two different men. If I’d known you were done with Lord Fitzalan, I would have made a bolder attempt to win you over.” His voice started to rise, overtaking the gurgle of the stream, and any sign of appeal vanished inside the slow curl of his fingers. “But like a fool, I stepped aside to wait, biding my time until you realized the truth on your own. Then the next thing I know, you’ve run off with Mr. Roth!” He released a cry of frustration.
Rage trembled through the rigid line of his arms. The ground rippled beneath me again, and I shivered from the familiar warmth that seeped into my boots.
Brigid’s fire...
Tree branches rattled menacingly overhead. I glanced up, openmouthed from what had just occurred. A handful of dying leaves quivered in warning. Impossible...
Julian hadn’t been touching the tree, nor anything else in the clearing other than the small patch of earth where he stood. He might possess the gift of agriculture, but Brigid’s power could only be conveyed to another being through physical touch.
Couldn’t it? Or was this one of the many things I hadn’t learned while living in Pennsylvania?
A golden leaf floated down, so close it brushed my nose. I watched it drift to the ground where it became one of a thousand. Julian hissed through his teeth, and my gaze whipped back to eye level. Fear leapt inside me from the change in his face, the contortions that went beyond rage to a wildness that verged on animal savagery.
“You need to believe me. There is nothing improper between Mr. Roth and me. After Nora was kidnapped last night, we formed an alliance to—”
The root snapped like a vice. My ribs creaked under the strain, and my breath thinned to panting gasps.
“You lie!”
My stomach heaved next, a sharp taste burning the back of my throat. “Don’t do this, Julian!” The plea came out in a ragged whisper.
More leaves broke free, floated to the ground on the air I desperately needed.
