by Donna Grant
“I told you I would release her,” Deirdre said as she came to stand beside him.
Quinn nodded and watched Marcail pick her way down the treacherous mountain and its snow. “So you did.”
“Are you ready to keep your word?”
He sighed and turned his head to her. “I am.”
“Good. Return to my chamber and await me. I have some…unfinished business I must attend to first.”
Quinn walked down the stairs and past the servant he had stepped on. She didn’t bow her head as the others did, and he couldn’t help but feel as if she stared at him.
Everything in Deirdre’s mountain was strange, so he didn’t think too much about the servant. He returned to Deirdre’s chamber and his seat upon the bed.
He should be elated that Marcail had her freedom, but his chest still felt heavy. His brothers would be left alone, and Marcail was out of the mountain. Was it because his men were still locked away? It had to be, Quinn surmised. He’d gotten almost everything he wanted from Deirdre.
Now, the most difficult part stood in front of him.
Larena ran as fast as she could down the corridor. Ramsey had been right, it was decidedly too easy to get into Cairn Toul Mountain.
Once she had gotten inside at the base of the mountain, Larena had stood and listened to the Warriors. She heard them speak of a Druid that had somehow gotten free of Broc.
Larena wondered if the Druid really had broken free or if Broc had helped her. If this was the same woman Quinn had aided, then it stood to reason Broc was aiding her. Larena just hoped the Druid was able to stay out of Deirdre’s path and get free.
As much as Larena wanted to help the woman, her first priority was Quinn. The thought of returning to Fallon and Lucan to tell them she hadn’t saved Quinn was something she refused to do. If along the way she was able to help Marcail or anyone else, then Larena would do it.
She slowed and came to a halt as a group of Warriors came toward her. They couldn’t see her, but if she didn’t get out of the way, they would bump into her.
Larena opened the first door she came to and stepped inside. The chamber was empty, though dried blood littered the stones at her feet.
As the Warriors passed her she heard Quinn’s name mentioned. She slipped out of the chamber and followed the Warriors long enough to learn that Deirdre had convinced Quinn to turn to her side.
The news was going to break Fallon’s heart. Larena shook her head, still determined to find Quinn and see for herself.
She turned and retraced her steps. Ramsey and Galen had told her she would likely find Quinn in Deirdre’s chambers if he was no longer being held as a prisoner. And after hearing the Warriors, it was obvious Quinn wasn’t in the dungeons any more.
Once she found Quinn, then the real danger would begin. In order to speak to him, he would have to be alone. Since he didn’t know of her, there was a chance he wouldn’t believe her. But she had something that would make him believe.
Deirdre tapped her long nails on the rock wall. Quinn had believed he saw Marcail leave the mountain when in fact it was nothing more than magic—black magic. Had he tried to speak to Marcail, he would have realized it wasn’t her.
Where the little bitch of a mie was, however, was what put Deirdre’s anger high and kept her from finding Quinn so she could finally have his body all to herself.
“You’ve not found her?” Deirdre asked Broc.
The winged Warrior shook his head. “She was beaten down and knew her time of hiding was up. I didna expect her to make a run for it.”
“You know I will reprimand you for this. Severely.”
Broc bowed his head. “I expected no less.”
“Did you use your god, Broc?” Deirdre asked.
He gave a single nod. “She’s still in the mountain.”
“But you can find anyone.”
His indigo Warrior eyes narrowed a fraction. “I’ve not failed you before. I willna fail you this time.”
She wasn’t fooled by his humility. Inside Broc simmered a vengeful nature that she had thus far contained. How much longer she would have control over him she didn’t know. But she would make sure she held him for as long as she wanted.
“You will help William and the others. I want this mountain searched from top to bottom. She’s not made it out, and if I have anything to say about it, she won’t.”
“Aye, mistress,” William said from beside Broc before they left.
William was still recovering from the torture Quinn had demanded, but William was always willing to serve.
Deirdre turned to give orders to the servant she had seen standing near them only to find the female gone.
“Where is the servant that was just here?” she asked the remaining Warriors.
A wyrran tugged on her skirt and pointed toward her chamber.
Deirdre’s gaze narrowed. She petted the wyrran’s head and started toward her chamber. She spotted the servant paused outside the door to her rooms. Deirdre came up behind her and ripped the veil from her head.
Instead of short hair, Deirdre saw sable hair tucked into the back of a gown. Marcail whirled around, the braids at the top and sides of her head spinning with her.
“You cannot stay away from him, can you?” Deirdre asked her. “You might have gotten away had you forgotten Quinn.”
“I could never forget him,” Marcail said through clenched teeth.
Deirdre laughed. “And that, my dear, will be your downfall. I have something special planned for you.”
With a snap of her fingers Warriors surrounded Marcail. Deirdre looked the Druid up and down. She didn’t know what had caught Quinn’s attention, but as far as he knew Marcail was long gone. And she was going to make sure he never thought otherwise.
“Take her to the chamber to prepare,” Deirdre commanded them.
As much as Deirdre wanted to go to Quinn, she needed to take care of Marcail first. If Quinn ever discovered she had deceived him, he would never bed her and give her the child she needed.
Deirdre followed her Warriors as they led Marcail farther and farther from Quinn. Deirdre rubbed her hands together. She might not be able to kill Marcail, but she could do the next best thing.
The Warriors shoved Marcail into the chamber so that she fell to her hands and knees. Deirdre smelled her blood and magic and smiled.
“This is where I kill Druids.”
Marcail got to her feet and met her gaze. “You cannot kill me.”
“What makes you think that?”
“If you could, you would have already done it when I was first brought to the mountain. Instead, you tossed me into the Pit hoping one of the Warriors there would do the deed. And suffer the consequences of my grandmother’s spells.”
Deirdre shrugged. “I suppose there is no point in denying anything now. Nay, Marcail, I’m not going to kill you. You see, your grandmother was a powerful Druid.”
“I know,” Marcail said.
Deirdre ignored the interruption. “She knew there was a chance I would capture you, so she made sure to cast protection spells over you. They are many and are powerful enough that if you are killed, the person responsible will die a horrible death.”
“It’s too bad you learned of the protections then,” Marcail said. “My death is nothing if it would bring about your own.”
“Ah, but you are a brave one,” Deirdre said. “Is it really courage, or fear so great it is either stand up to me or crumple at my feet begging for mercy?”
Marcail rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen what your black magic can do. I know how effortlessly you take someone’s life. At one time I feared you, but you’ve shown that even with your power, you have a weakness.”
“I have no weakness.”
A slow smile spread over Marcail’s face. “But you do. You want the child of prophecy. How long have you waited, Deirdre? Has your womb grown cold and hollow? Can your body even sustain life?”
Deirdre reached out and slapped Marcai
l before she could think better of it. The Druid’s head jerked to the side with the force of the blow. Deirdre smiled at having put Marcail in her place. Until she heard the Druid laughing.
“Is that the best you can do?” Marcail asked as she touched her lip, which now bled.
Deirdre opened her mouth to respond when a vicious sting sliced through her. It was a pain unlike anything she had ever felt, and she knew in that instant it was the protections guarding Marcail.
Deirdre closed her eyes to battle the throbbing, but Marcail’s laughter only grew. For many moments Deirdre could do nothing but stand and combat the agony that filled her body. It was like hundreds of tiny blades piercing and slicing her skin.
And if it wasn’t for her magic holding most of it at bay, it would have brought her to her knees. When she was finally able to withstand the pain, Deirdre opened her eyes to see Marcail smirking at her.
“I hope you enjoyed yourself, because where you are going, there will be nothing. Grab her,” Deirdre yelled.
Thirty
Marcail should have known better than to enjoy Deirdre’s discomfort, but it had been wonderful to see the drough in pain. If that little bit happened from a slap, what would occur if someone killed her? Marcail was almost afraid to find out.
She struggled in vain against the grip the two Warriors had on her arms. They half dragged, half carried her to the center of the chamber where a table stood with straps that would hold her arms and legs.
“Don’t worry,” Deirdre said in a much too pleasant voice. “That is not for you, though I wish it were.”
Marcail had never known such hatred as she did at that moment. “How can you kill your own kind?”
“Easily,” Deirdre said. “If you knew the sheer force of the magic I received with every kill you would understand.”
“I could never understand evil such as you.”
Deirdre tsked. “Such a pity. Shall I tell you what I have planned for you?”
Marcail bit her tongue to keep silent.
“Have nothing to say this time?” Deirdre laughed. “Ah, well, I won’t keep you waiting. Do you see Lavena behind you?”
The Warriors turned Marcail so that she was staring at a woman who appeared to be floating, though there was no water around her, only black flames.
Deirdre came to stand beside Marcail. “Lovely, isn’t she? I’ve held her thus for hundreds of years.”
Marcail’s blood turned to ice as she realized Deirdre would do the same to her. She had been so close to getting away, but when she had seen Quinn, she’d had to stop and look at him, to try and talk to him. It had taken everything she had not to reach out and touch him, to tell him it was her.
And now, it was too late.
Deirdre began to whisper words that Marcail recognized as Gaelic, the ancient Celt language. As the spell continued, ice-blue flames shot up from the stones on the floor to the ceiling in a swirling mass of magic.
“I hope you like your new home,” Deirdre said. “You’ll be with me forever, Marcail. No one will ever know the spell to bind the gods now.”
Marcail swallowed and blinked back the tears. She wished she could have been the Druid her grandmother had wanted her to be. She wished she could have helped all the Warriors and other Druids who were locked in the mountain. But most of all she wished she could have told Quinn she loved him.
That’s when she realized the connection between the chanting she heard in her head and Quinn. Her grandmother had told her to always follow her heart. Quinn had been the first time Marcail had ever done that, and when she had, the chanting had begun.
Her grandmother had made sure that when Marcail fell in love she would learn the spell. But now it was too late. For everyone.
The Warriors jerked Marcail in front of the cylinder of blue flames, halting her thoughts of the spell and Quinn as panic took hold.
“As soon as the flames touch your skin, you will cease to feel anything,” Deirdre said.
Marcail lifted her chin. She was a Druid. She would not cower in front Deirdre. “Your reign will end soon. Enjoy the power you have now because it will soon be gone.”
“Wishful thinking, little mie. Toss her into the flames,” Deirdre told the Warriors.
Marcail’s last thought was of Quinn as the blue flames engulfed her. There was a moment of icy pain and then…nothing.
Broc cursed under his breath as he watched the Warriors drag Marcail away. He had known it was the Druid when Quinn had backed into her while watching the fake Marcail leave the mountain.
If there hadn’t been so many wyrran and other Warriors, Broc would have told Quinn what was happening. But Broc had wisely kept his mouth shut or they’d all be feeling Deirdre’s wrath.
Broc pushed open the door to Deirdre’s chambers and walked inside. He had hoped to hear from Fallon or someone in the group to let Broc know they where there to help Quinn escape, but Broc couldn’t wait any longer. Not now that Deirdre had Marcail.
He found Quinn sitting on Deirdre’s bed, his head in his hands. Of a sudden Quinn’s head jerked up and he looked at Broc.
“What do you want?” Quinn demanded in a flat tone, devoid of any feeling.
Broc wasn’t sure how to begin. Quinn had been in Deirdre’s chamber for a full day. Deirdre could have done anything to him.
“Broc?” Quinn urged in a wary voice.
Broc glanced over his shoulder to the open door and wondered how long he had before Deirdre returned. “The Marcail you saw leave the mountain wasna real.”
Quinn’s pale green eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. “What kind of jest is this?”
“None. The servant you backed into was Marcail.”
“You lie!”
Broc inhaled deeply as he struggled for patience. He needed Quinn to believe him, not spend precious moments trying to make Quinn understand.
“I’m not. I helped Marcail to evade the other Warriors. She was to leave the mountain dressed as one of Deirdre’s servants and look for your brothers.”
“Stop it,” Quinn murmured as he rose to his feet and began to pace the chamber. “I doona know what you’re trying to do, but just stop. Marcail is safe. My brothers are safe.”
Broc glanced down at his dark blue skin and the long claws. He had lived as Deirdre’s for so long that Quinn wasn’t going to believe him without proof, and since Lucan and Fallon weren’t there, Broc had nothing to show Quinn.
“Is it a fight you want?” Quinn asked. “Do you want to see if you can best me?”
Broc shook his head. “I’m not looking to battle you, Quinn. You must believe me.”
“Aye, Quinn, you must believe Broc.”
The female voice came from beside Broc but there was no body. Yet he recognized the voice. “Larena?”
“Aye,” she answered. “I’m here, Broc. Find me something to cover myself, please.”
Broc hurried to the bed and jerked a blanket off.
“What the hell is going on?” Quinn commanded.
There was a soft tug and the blanket was taken from Broc’s hand. In a blink Larena materialized beside him, the cover wrapped around her to hide her nudity.
“I was beginning to think you werena coming,” Broc said.
Larena grimaced. “I saw them take Marcail.”
“I know. I’ve been trying to convince Quinn.”
Quinn punched the stone wall as his skin turned black with his anger. “Tell. Me. What. Is. Going. On.”
Larena took a step toward Quinn. “It’s finally good to meet you, Quinn. I’m Larena, Fallon’s wife.”
Quinn stood in quiet shock as he stared at the blonde-haired woman before him. She had just appeared out of nowhere. She was pretty with her classical beauty, but she didn’t hold a candle to Marcail.
“Fallon’s wife?” he repeated, unsure he had heard her correctly.
She smiled. “Aye. I’m also a Warrior. Deirdre tried to take me a few weeks ago, but Fallon and the others helped to keep me out of
her hands.”
Quinn rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He no longer knew what was real and what wasn’t. But Fallon married? That, he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—believe unless Fallon told Quinn himself.
“We haven’t much time,” Larena said. “Quinn, I doona know what Deirdre is going to do to Marcail, but we need to get to her quickly.”
“Deirdre canna kill Marcail,” Quinn said. “Though it’s pointless to speak of it. I saw Deirdre release her.”
Larena shook her head, her long blonde braid moving back and forth down her back. “You have to know Deirdre is deceiving you. Would she willingly give up a Druid so easily?”
“I doona know what’s real anymore,” he yelled. Quinn turned away from them, his stomach churning as he imagined Deirdre tricking him and doing God only knew what to Marcail.
If Broc and Larena were speaking the truth…Quinn couldn’t even complete the thought.
“You’ve been away from your brothers for a while,” Larena said in a soft voice. “They have thought of you every day. Since you were taken, they have done nothing but try to find a way to get you out of here.”
He believed that. He and his brothers might fight, but the love they shared was unbreakable. Quinn knew he’d walk through Hell itself to free his brothers.
“Look at me,” Larena bade him.
Quinn turned and watched as she moved aside the blanket from her neck to show a gold torc with boars’ heads, just like Fallon’s.
“Fallon gifted this to me when I agreed to become his wife,” Larena said. “We’ve been married but days, Quinn. Neither Lucan nor Fallon will rest until you are once more at MacLeod Castle with them.”
Quinn couldn’t take his eyes off the torc. It was proof that Larena was indeed Fallon’s wife. Quinn remembered the day his mother had given Fallon the torc. She had told him it would be his gift to the woman who held his heart. They would be bound forever.
Just as Lucan and Cara were bound when Lucan gave her a dagger with the head of his wolf on it.
Quinn looked to Broc. “And you?”
“I’ve been spying on Deirdre for years. It was a pact Ramsey and I made. I will explain it all once we are free of this mountain.”
