by Donna Grant
“Why didna you?” The more Deirdre spoke about Marcail the angrier he got. Deirdre wasn’t worthy to speak Marcail’s name.
“I had my reasons,” Deirdre replied. “The Druid is a nuisance, Quinn. I tossed her into the Pit so she would be killed. You should have allowed that to happen.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “And why is that?”
“She probably told you she knows the spell to bind your gods. She lied. She has the spell that will allow your gods to take over completely.”
Quinn shook his head and snorted. “Stop with the lies. Marcail does have the spell to bind our gods. You didna kill her yourself because you fear what will happen to you if you harm her. All those protection spells must be an irritation for one so all-powerful as you.”
“Then you don’t know me at all. I fear nothing.”
“Not true. You fear the magic of Marcail’s grandmother. I’ve seen what can happen to someone who harms Marcail. It’s not something you want to tangle with, Deirdre.”
A single white brow rose on Deirdre’s forehead. “You think you know everything, do you?”
“You’ve killed almost every Druid you’ve ever captured, mie and drough alike, so that you can claim their magic. I had to ask myself, why wouldna you want the powerful magic that runs in Marcail’s blood? It was easy enough to figure out.”
Deirdre slowly walked around Quinn until she stood at his back. “Tell me, Quinn, what is your interest in Marcail?”
He knew he had to choose his words carefully. He didn’t want Deirdre to know how deep his feelings went for Marcail, especially since he was still trying to decipher them himself. “I saved her. She’s my responsibility.”
“Hm. I wonder if your feelings go deeper than that. You’ve bedded her, so you must have found something to your liking.”
Quinn faced her. He didn’t want to spoil what had happened between him and Marcail, but he also couldn’t let Deirdre suspect anything.
“It had been a long time since I’d lain with a woman. She was grateful that I saved her and repaid me with the use of her body.”
“You could have had mine,” Deirdre said.
“I’d rather slit my own throat.”
Deirdre suddenly smiled. “Ah, but my dear Quinn, you agreed to bed me in exchange for leaving your brothers alone.”
“I did. I willna go back on my vows.”
“I don’t doubt that you will do your part, but I wonder how long you will try to put me off.”
Quinn clenched his jaw. He hadn’t expected Deirdre to learn of Marcail so quickly. Damn.
“What do you want?” he asked in the most civil voice that he could.
She laughed. “I’ve always enjoyed having this kind of power. It’s exhilarating.”
“What. Do. You. Want?”
“How much is Marcail’s life worth to you?”
Quinn wanted to punch Deirdre in the face, to rip her heart from her body and toss her into a fire. “I doona want anyone else to die.”
“And Marcail? What will you do to ensure I allow her to live?”
“What do you want?”
“You. In my bed immediately.”
Quinn ran a hand down his face. He had no other choice. He couldn’t live with himself if he was the cause of Marcail’s death just because he found Deirdre repulsive.
“On one condition. You allow Marcail to leave the mountain. And I want to see for myself that you release her.”
Deirdre lifted a shoulder. “You agree to bed me after she’s gone?”
He nodded, unable to say the words. How had things gone so wrong so soon?
Twenty-eight
“Finally,” Fallon said as they stood before Deirdre’s mountain.
“It’s not going to be easy,” Ramsey stated as he eyed the mound of rock before them.
Logan chuckled. “Getting in will be easy, it’s the getting out part I’m concerned with.”
“Maybe you should stay behind,” Hayden said.
“And let you get yourself killed?” Logan snorted. “You need me to watch your back.”
Fallon shook his head at the banter between Logan and Hayden. The need to rush in and find Quinn was too much to bear, but for the sake of Larena, Lucan, and the others, Fallon had to be careful.
“You know what has to be done,” Larena said.
He frowned, hating that she was right. “I’d rather not.”
“It’s the reason I came, Fallon.”
Lucan nodded. “You need to let her go inside.”
Fallon knew Larena’s power to become invisible would allow them to find Quinn, but the thought of his wife, the woman who held his heart in her hands, in Deirdre’s mountain left him cold.
“I can handle myself,” Larena said. “I am a Warrior. I’ve proven to you countless times that I can take care of myself.”
“Aye, love, I know you can. I just like to be beside you just in case.”
She leaned in and kissed him. “And I love you for that, but you need to let me go now. We have to find Quinn.”
Fallon reluctantly stepped back. “Doona stay longer than you have to. Find him and get out.”
“It’s the finding him that’s going to take the longest,” Galen said. “Quinn could be anywhere in that mountain.”
Fallon cupped his hands on either side of Larena’s face. “Find Deirdre first. If Quinn isna with her, you’re likely to discover where he’s being held. Then it’ll be a matter of finding where he’s located after that.”
“I’ll find him, Fallon,” she promised.
“I have no doubt.” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “Just promise me you willna be caught.”
She leaned back to look into his eyes. “I’ll return to you. There’s nowhere else I belong.”
It took all of Fallon’s will to release her. In a blink she transformed, her spectacular iridescent skin shining in the sunlight a moment before she became invisible. Larena shed her clothes quickly after that.
There was a soft press on his check before she whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you,” he said. “Come back to me, Larena.”
There wasn’t a response, not that he needed one. She would return if she could. She was his life, and if for some reason Deirdre imprisoned Larena, Fallon would move heaven and earth to free his wife.
“She’ll be all right,” Lucan said.
Ramsey nodded in agreement. “Thank God we have Larena on our side.”
“Aye,” Fallon said, though he wished he’d been the one that could turn invisible. He’d rather put himself in that kind of danger than his wife.
Marcail knew the moment the Pit door opened they had come for her. At the entrance to the cave stood the tall winged Warrior. Arran and Duncan refused to let him pass, so Marcail went to him.
“You’ve come for me?” she asked the Warrior.
“I have.”
“Broc,” Arran said. “Doona take her.”
So this was Broc, the one Quinn spoke of often. Marcail glanced at his large wings and couldn’t help but wonder how they looked spread. “He has no choice,” Marcail said.
“Everyone has a choice,” Duncan said.
Marcail put her hands on Duncan and Arran as she walked past them to stand beside Broc. She faced the two Warriors who had guarded her. “Remember what I told you.”
“Marcail,” Arran warned.
“Leave it,” Broc said. “She must come with me now.”
Marcail’s legs shook so badly they threatened to give out on her. Somehow she managed to follow Broc from the Pit without making a fool of herself. As she passed Charon’s cave, she saw the copper Warrior staring at her, his eyes haunted.
He didn’t wear the expression of a man who had gotten what he wanted. In fact, he looked almost beaten down.
When she and Broc left the Pit and the door closed behind her, Marcail took a deep breath and tried to remain as steadfast as she had in the cave.
It wasn’t e
asy.
She had no idea where Broc was taking her and if it would lead to imminent death.
“Keep up,” Broc said over his shoulder.
Marcail had to lift her skirts and practically run to keep up with his long strides. The dark blue Warrior seemed to be in a great hurry.
“Have you seen Quinn? Is he all right?” She knew she shouldn’t ask, but she had to know.
“Keep your thoughts on yourself.”
She halted. “Nay.”
Broc slowed, then stopped and turned to face her. “What did you say?”
“I said nay. I want to know of Quinn or I’m not moving.”
He took a step toward her. “I could toss you over my shoulder.”
“You could.”
After a moment Broc sighed. “Quinn is fine. Deirdre willna hurt him. Now, come with me, Druid.”
Now that Marcail knew Quinn wasn’t being harmed she continued after Broc. She knew in her heart Deirdre would plan a painful death for her.
Marcail had never feared dying, but she wished she’d had more time with Quinn. Those few precious hours had been the best of her life, even though they were spent in Deirdre’s mountain.
But her one regret was not recalling the spell. She’d almost had it. She had been so close. If she’d only have recognized what the chanting was earlier she could have already had the spell and freed so many men from their gods, as well as thwarting Deirdre.
Marcail stopped just short of running into Broc’s featherless wings as he came to a sudden halt. The Warrior looked at her and pointed to a door that stood open and led to a dark chamber.
“You need to go in there.”
Marcail looked into the chamber and took in a calming breath. “Tell me what awaits me.”
“Freedom. If you hurry.”
She frowned, her lips parting in confusion. “Are you jesting?”
“Nay. Get in,” he said and took her by the arm to shove her into the room.
Marcail spun around to find Broc had followed her and pulled the door closed behind him. “What is going on?” she demanded.
“I’m trying to help you and Quinn.”
She wanted to believe Broc, but since she couldn’t see his face, she couldn’t look into his eyes and see his emotions. “Is there a light?”
No sooner had she said the words than a candle flared to life. Broc lit two more before he folded his arms over his chest.
“Tell me why you are helping me,” she urged.
Broc gave a slow shake of his head. “Does it matter? I have my reasons.”
Marcail wanted to know those reasons, but she could tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that she would get no more out of him. She had to decide whether to trust him or not, and with her life on the line, she didn’t have much of a choice.
“All right.”
“Good. Now, I’m going to help get Quinn out, but first, I need to get you away from Deirdre. She learned you were in the Pit.”
Somehow, that didn’t surprise her. “Did Charon tell her?”
“Aye,” Broc mumbled. “Doona blame the Warrior, though. Deirdre has ways of extracting information whether a person wants to give it or not. I’m surprised you were able to stay in the Pit as long as you have.”
“It was Quinn. He kept me safe.”
Broc nodded. “Everyone knows that.”
“Deirdre won’t be happy with him.”
“She ordered me to bring you to her. I doona know her plans for you, but they canna be good. I heard that she has used you to get Quinn into her bed faster.”
Marcail leaned against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut. “Dear God. That cannot happen. Quinn cannot give her the baby she wants.”
“I agree. I’m going to tell Deirdre that you escaped.”
“Won’t she punish you?”
One side of Broc’s mouth lifted in a half smile. “I can withstand it. The important thing is for you to get out of the mountain. Take this,” he said and handed her what looked like a black veil.
“What is it?”
“The servants wear them. It will cover your face and keep you unnoticed. Watch your hair though. All of the women have had their hair shorn off. Nothing of yours can show.”
“Does my gown matter?” she said as she looked down to find it stained.
“Aye. I’ve procured one of the servants’ gowns for you as well.”
She prayed Broc was truly helping her and not setting her up for Deirdre’s amusement. “Thank you.”
“The servants keep their heads down and doona speak unless spoken to. You should be able to move freely. To depart the mountain, you need to leave this chamber and turn right. The corridor is long, but stay on it. Doona venture down any of the stairwells. If you stay on the main corridor it will lead you to the upper level.”
She stared at him, absorbing everything he said. “I understand.”
“There is a doorway on the top level. You’ll have to walk past Deirdre’s chambers. Her doors are always shut and Warriors are standing guard. Once you pass them, you’ll take the next hallway to the left. It will take you up a flight of stairs to the door. The door isna easily seen by mortals. You’ll have to search for the handle.”
“First hallway on the left after Deirdre’s chamber,” she repeated.
“I’m not going to be able to be with you. When I leave, I’ll have to raise the alarm immediately lest Deirdre become suspicious. Get changed and out of here as soon as you can.”
Marcail licked her lips and swallowed. “I will.”
He paused at the door and turned to look at her. “Good luck.”
“Thank you, Broc. If you ever need anything, all you need to do is ask.”
He gave her a curt nod, and then he was gone.
Marcail jerked off her gown and hurried to pull on the one given to her. It was coarse and bleached of all color, but it would help her blend in.
She left her hair tucked into the back of the gown and pulled the veil over her head, making sure her face was covered.
The veil was long and hung past her shoulders, and it wasn’t easy to see through the dark material. Anything, however, was better than what awaited her with Deirdre.
Marcail blew out the candles and opened the door. She glanced first one way, then the other before she stepped into the corridor. She kept her head down as Broc had advised her.
Broc hadn’t lied about spreading the alarm right away. Several Warriors came running toward her. Marcail’s heart pounded so loudly in her chest she was sure they would hear it.
She stopped and put her back to the wall to allow the Warriors to pass. They didn’t look her way as they rushed down the hall.
Marcail smiled to herself as relief poured through her. Thanks to Broc, she would make it out of the mountain for sure.
Twenty-nine
Quinn stared at the stone wall in front of him. He hadn’t risen from the foot of Deirdre’s bed since he’d learned she knew of Marcail.
All he could think about was Marcail and her extraordinary, striking turquoise eyes and her small braids that framed her face and were held together by gold bands. He could still taste the sweet innocence of her kiss, still feel the way her arms locked around him, and how he was the first to awaken the desires in her body.
He had thought she would be safe in the Pit until he could free her and his men. How had he been so wrong? Who had told Deirdre?
And then he knew. Charon.
The copper-skinned bastard would pay for putting Marcail’s life in danger, of that Quinn vowed. He would enjoy making Charon suffer long and repeatedly.
Quinn raked his hands through his hair as he hung his head to his chest. Deirdre had left him in her chambers, locked he was sure. She hadn’t said anything, just turned and left when one of the wyrran whispered something in her ear. He wasn’t sure if Deirdre would release Marcail as he’d asked or not.
Maybe he could talk Deirdre out of killing her. At least if Marcail was somewhere in the mountain
he would be able to reach her somehow.
But he knew Deirdre wouldn’t be satisfied until Marcail was dead. Deirdre was too spiteful to do anything else.
Quinn didn’t think he could hate Deirdre more, but it seemed he was wrong. He was angry, aye, but the sadness over losing Marcail outweighed the fury.
He looked down at his hands. No claws were visible, and his skin held no hint of blackness at all. It was almost as if the god was no longer inside him.
The door to the chamber flew open. Quinn didn’t turn to look at Deirdre. He could feel her black magic and the evil inside her.
“Marcail is waiting,” Deirdre said. “She’s most insistent upon leaving my mountain. I don’t understand how anyone could want to leave this beautiful place.”
Quinn didn’t bother to reply. He rose and faced Deirdre, thankful that Marcail would be able to leave. “Take me to her.”
Deirdre raised a white brow. “Don’t try to talk to her, Quinn. I’m allowing you to see her off. That should be good enough.”
It wasn’t, but if he complained, Deirdre was likely to keep him in the chamber. “Take me to her,” he repeated.
Deirdre turned and walked from the room. Quinn followed, uncaring of the stairwells and doorways he passed. His attention was focused all on Marcail.
When he caught sight of her, it was like a burst of sunlight upon his face. She was so beautiful. He simply stared at the petite woman with her full curves that had captured his attention so quickly.
He wanted to walk to Marcail and pick up one of her braids, which always fell in her face. He wanted to lean down and inhale the sunshine-and-rain scent that was hers alone. But he would have to be content simply to see her.
Marcail’s turquoise eyes met his. She gave him a small smile before she followed the wyrran up a set of stairs to a door that stood open.
Quinn stepped back and ran into one of Deirdre’s servants. She gasped, and Quinn murmured an apology. He was lost in Marcail’s scent, a smell he knew he would never enjoy again.
He didn’t look at the servant, not when Marcail was about to be lost to him forever. As soon as Marcail was through the door, Quinn took the stairs three at a time and stood in the doorway.
