Warrior of the Isles

by Debbie Mazzuca

  Rory circled the desk. Removing several dusty tomes from the bookshelf, he opened a concealed compartment. He glanced at Fergus, then handed Aidan a piece of faded silk.

  Aidan closed his hand around the fabric and nodded. “Aye.” Rory was right. There were no other options available to him. He had to call on a people he reviled. A race that had destroyed his family and now was attempting to steal his brother from him. Would his suffering at the hands of the Fae never end?

  With a heavy heart he followed the two men up the narrow stone steps to the tower. A strong gust of wind ripped the latch from Rory’s hand and the door slammed against the stone wall. A spattering of icy rain fell upon them. Lightning crackled in the night sky followed by a blast of thunder so fierce it rattled the stone beneath their feet. The lantern Fergus held swung back and forth, squeaking on its rusted hinges, its amber light cutting a swath through the inky blackness.

  “Mayhap we should wait fer the weather to clear.”

  “Nay, you canna put it off, Aidan. Here, I’ll help you,” his cousin offered quietly.

  The flag snapped in the wind, once, twice, three times. There was an explosive clap. Bright blues, yellows, and greens sparked and sputtered to life then a cloud of smoke engulfed them. The three of them choked, coughing on the thick acrid air. Aidan’s eyes burned, and he rubbed them. When his vision cleared, the woman he thought never to see again stood before him.

  “Syrena.”

  Chapter 13

  Syrena rubbed her eyes. Only moments ago she’d fled the Seelie court. In her attempt to escape the barrage of questions from her stepmother and uncle, had she unwittingly used her magick? She had sought a moment of solitude to come up with answers that would incriminate no one but leave no doubt as to Evangeline’s innocence.

  If she had used her magick, she thought as a bitter wind pushed her against a hard surface, what Fae-forsaken place had she sent herself? Syrena batted at the smoky haze. One day, she vowed, her magick would work the way it was supposed to.

  “Syrena.” The deep, raspy voice with the thick brogue was unmistakable. A voice from her past, one she’d desperately tried to forget, but never could.

  “Aidan,” she whispered, helpless to still the excited beat of her heart.

  The haze lifted. Amber light danced across the harsh planes of his beautiful face. A face that had haunted her dreams, but this was no dream. They stared at each other across the windblown parapet. The first to shake free from the shock, Aidan took a menacing step toward her, a feral grin slashing across his face.

  There was no mistaking his intent. Every muscle coiled to pounce; he was like a creature stalking his prey. And from the way he looked at her, she had little doubt his intended prey was her. The images from the scrying mirror came quickly to mind, and she reached behind her to unsheathe Nuie.

  The man she thought she loved no longer existed. In his place stood a stranger—a stranger who wanted her dead. The images her stepmother had once tormented her with came back to taunt her, but this time Syrena embraced them. She was a warrior. No longer would a man, Mortal or Fae, make her feel vulnerable.

  “Don’t come any closer,” she warned. The wind whipped a lock of hair across her face, and she shoved it away.

  Aidan barked a harsh laugh. “Do ye think to frighten me with yer wee sword?”

  Nuie hummed. Shards of red emitted from between her fingers. Syrena heard a startled oath and for the first time noted the presence of two more men. The one standing directly behind Aidan was as big and dark as he was, with the same fierce expression upon his face. But the older man who stood a little to their right looked more curious than angry. She wondered if he at least could be made to see reason.

  Despite the pain Aidan had caused her in the past, she didn’t wish to kill him or his friends. She did her best, even in battle, to preserve life. Nuie could kill both Mortal and Fae with a single blow. But Uscias had taught her how to command him so the magick emitted at lower doses would wound, not kill.

  The wind howled and rain lashed her gown to her body. Intent on remaining upright, her stance defensive, she barely made out the words Aidan yelled at her. “Where is he? Where is my brother?”

  They moved closer, crowding her, towering above her. Their handsome faces carved into seething masks of rage.

  She glanced at the older man. “If you value your friends’ lives, call them back.” But he made no move to stop them. With little more than a foot between them, Syrena acted quickly, commanding Nuie to full force. She gripped the rain-slicked hilt with both hands and swung at the base of the pole. There was a loud clang as metal met metal and sparks blistered the air. Nuie vibrated in her hand with the force of the blow. The pole smashed to the ground between them.

  Aidan and his friend jumped back, their jaws dropped. She met the older man’s startled gaze. “That was a warning. See they don’t threaten me again.”

  A door creaked open and a sliver of light escaped before a beautiful woman with long, flaxen hair stepped onto the parapet. “Rory, what’s going on out here? Oh . . .” She frowned upon seeing Syrena.

  “Aileanna, get back inside. Now!” the man beside Aidan yelled.

  The woman scowled. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on. And don’t you dare yell at me, Rory MacLeod.”

  The man heaved an exasperated sigh. “Aileanna, mo chridhe, ’tis dangerous. Go back inside. Please.”

  She narrowed her gaze on him. “Nay, I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me where this woman came from and why you have her backed into a corner in the pouring rain?”

  “Fer the love of God, woman, do you have to be so bloody stubborn? Get yer arse in the keep, now!”

  The woman skirted his attempt to reach for her. Lifting her gown, she leaped over the pole. Syrena quickly muted Nuie’s power when the woman placed herself between Syrena and the men.

  “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m not going to stand by while the three of you threaten a defenseless woman.”

  “Defenseless? She’s the one with the sword!”

  Ignoring the man she called Rory, she looked over her shoulder at Syrena.

  “I’m Aileanna MacLeod, and I apologize for my husband and his cousin’s behavior.”

  Syrena couldn’t help but smile at the woman who attempted to defend her. She reminded her of Fallyn. Aileanna MacLeod would make a good warrior. “I’m Princess Syrena. And please, don’t worry about me, I can look after myself. Besides, you’re getting wet.”

  “So are you.” She tilted her head. “Syrena, I wonder . . . Iain mentioned someone—”

  “Enough! Aileanna, she’s Fae and she’s taken Lachlan. Now do as your husband says so I can deal with her,” Aidan bellowed.

  Syrena nudged Aileanna aside. “What are you talking about? I haven’t taken Lachlan. I haven’t seen him since—”

  “Doona think ye can feed me yer lies. He’s disappeared and I want him back.”

  She flinched in the face of his fury. If she had any doubts about his opinion of her, he’d just made his feelings abundantly clear. Rory placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

  Syrena ignored the ache in her heart. She didn’t care how he felt about her—whatever feelings she once had for him no longer existed. Her stepmother was right. He was no different than Fae men. But her brother was another matter, and the fact he seemed to have disappeared worried her. She thought back to what King Gabriel had said about his missing men. But surely they had nothing to do with Lachlan; no one knew he was Fae. At least she didn’t think anyone did.

  Before Syrena had a chance to respond, Aileanna took matters into her own hands. Pushing her wet hair from her face, she said, “I’m freezing. We’ll continue this inside.” She took hold of Syrena’s hand. “We’ll get you into some dry clothing before you catch a chill.”

  “Aileanna, I doona think—”

  “I’m well aware of that, Rory MacLeod. Now, go.” She motioned them away with her ha
nd. “Fergus, take Aidan with you. We’ll meet in my solar shortly.”

  Aidan muttered something about Iain being right before he shot Syrena a malevolent glare. The older man none-too-gently ushered him to the door.

  Syrena looked from Nuie to the broad backs of the three men who tromped down the stone steps in front of them. They stood head and shoulders above her, and at least two of them looked like they wanted to strangle her. But she had a feeling the woman at her side wouldn’t allow it and reached back to resheathe her sword. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, although a part of her may have been tempted to maim Aidan, just a little. Let him feel a smidgen of what she’d felt when she’d seen her deer lying dead on the forest floor with his dagger buried to the hilt in her blood-stained fur. To have him suffer a portion of the devastating ache she’d endured every time Morgana forced her to look in the scrying mirror. To experience a single iota of the pain she’d suffered knowing how much he despised her for simply being Fae.

  She hadn’t realized she’d stopped walking until she felt Aileanna’s intent gaze upon her. “Is something the matter?” Syrena asked.

  “Nay.” She tilted her head. “You’re not what I expected.”

  Syrena quirked a brow.

  “I mean . . . I thought a faery would be . . . well, taller, ethereal with . . . wings,” she finished with a grimace.

  Syrena barely managed to restrain her laughter. “No wings, but you’re right, I am smaller then any of the Fae I know.” She didn’t feel the need to list her many other shortcomings in the eyes of the Fae, although these days none of her brethren seemed inclined to point them out.

  “And the story that you steal babies isn’t true either, is it?”

  Syrena’s eyes widened. “No, is that what they say about us?”

  “Among other things, but don’t worry, I prefer to form my own opinions. I consider myself a fairly good judge of people and you seem like a nice person, Syrena.”

  “Thank you, so do you.” She smiled, relieved that Aileanna wasn’t as judgmental as some members of her family. “You’re very open-minded.”

  Aileanna laughed. “Well, if you knew anything about my past, you’d understand why.” At her questioning look, she said, “I’ll tell you some other time.”

  The men turned and glared at Aileanna. “Don’t worry, I won’t let them harm you,” she said, a stubborn set to her chin.

  “Thank you,” Syrena murmured, descending the final step to the small enclosed landing.

  The three men stood several feet ahead of them, about to descend another set of stairs. Aidan jerked from their hold and strode back to them with his cousin and Fergus on his heels. He filled the small dank space with his imposing bulk. Torchlight bounced off the stone walls to cast the hard lines of his face in a sinister glow. His gray eyes were glacial. As though he fought to restrain himself, his big hands balled into fists at his sides and muscles rippled beneath the wet white shirt that clung to him like a second skin.

  “Doona think ye can escape. I’ll get an answer from ye if it takes all night.” He stood so close the heat of his breath fanned her cheek.

  She lifted her chin, fighting to contain a shiver of unease. “I don’t plan on going anywhere until I find out what you’ve done to my brother.” As if she could go anywhere, the portals to the Enchanted realm would now be closed. But she told him the truth. Until she knew what had happened to Lachlan, she would not leave. “But just so you know, if I wanted to, you couldn’t stop me.”

  Fury darkened his eyes, and she reached back to unsheathe Nuie. Aileanna inserted herself between them, placing her hands on his chest. “Rory, Fergus,” she snapped. “Get Aidan out of here.”

  Rory slanted a furious look in his wife’s direction before he jerked Aidan away, shoving him toward their companion. Wagging his finger at Aileanna, Rory said, “I’m no’ verra happy with you at the moment. Once we have this matter taken care of, you and I have a few things to discuss.”

  “Aye, we do, and you’d best keep your voices down before you wake the boys.”

  He included Syrena in his disapproving grunt before he stomped after Aidan and Fergus.

  “Men,” Aileanna harrumphed. Taking Syrena by the hand, she led her along a dimly lit corridor, past the staircase the men had descended. A loud crash echoed from below, and the men’s voices rose in anger. “I should’ve locked them in the tower until they had their tempers under control. If Jamie and Alex wake up, I’ll never get them back to sleep.”

  “I’m sorry, Aileanna, it’s my fault.”

  Syrena bumped into the other woman when she came to an abrupt halt. Aileanna turned to look at her, her brow furrowed. “Why? Did you take Lan?”

  “No, of course not, I—”

  With a relieved smile, she said, “Thank goodness. I wouldn’t have wanted to hand you over to Aidan. I’ve never seen him so angry.”

  Syrena stood a little taller, a belligerent tilt to her head. “I can handle him if I have to.”

  Aileanna’s lips twitched, and she patted her shoulder. “I’m sure you can, but it won’t be necessary.” She opened a heavy wooden door and nudged Syrena inside. “Don’t worry, we’ll get this all straightened out. We’ll find Lan.” While Aileanna attempted to light a fire in the stone hearth, she glanced over her shoulder at Syrena. “You said Lachlan was your brother, but I never heard mention of Aidan and Lan having a sister.”

  Syrena’s cheeks flushed. “I’m Lan’s sister, not Aidan’s.”

  “Oh . . . oh, I see.” She cleared her throat then came to her feet. “I’ve never been able to light a fire, and I’ll be damned if I’ll call Rory to light it for us. Wrap yourself up in that blanket and I’ll bring you some dry clothes,” she said, pointing to a thick brown woolen blanket at the foot of the large four-poster bed.

  Before she left the room, Syrena asked, “Aileanna, how did I come to be here?”

  The woman stopped, closing the door she’d just opened and leaning against it. “The faery flag,” she murmured. After a slowly released breath, Aileanna said, “It’s how I came to be at Dunvegan.”

  She came to sit beside Syrena on the edge of the bed. “I’m from the twenty-first century. I was a physician in my time and was here on Skye, in the castle, when Iain raised the faery flag in the year 1598. Rory was badly wounded in a battle and Iain was terrified he was going to die so the flag was their last hope. And . . . well, thanks to the faeries, here I am.” She smiled.

  “You didn’t wish to go back to your own time?”

  Aileanna laughed. “Oh, yes, I did in the beginning. But then I fell in love with Rory and got my happily ever after.” She came to her feet and patted Syrena’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will work out for you, too. Was it your family who gave the MacLeods the flag?”

  “No. I’ve heard it said that it was Tatianna.”

  “Does she live where you do?”

  “No, she and her brethren were killed a long time ago.” Knowing Evangeline’s mother had been directly responsible for the deaths made it uncomfortable for Syrena to speak about. She felt as though she somehow betrayed her friend when she did.

  “I see,” Aileanna said slowly, but before she could say anything further, someone pounded on the door and she rolled her eyes. “I did say happily ever after, didn’t I?”

  Aidan glared across the room at his cousin’s wife, who sat with a protective arm wrapped around Syrena’s shoulders. If they would give him but a few minutes alone with the lying, deceitful wench, he’d get the truth from her. He didn’t care how innocent she looked with her wide-eyed topaz gaze in her exquisite face, tendrils of damp hair curling provocatively over her shoulder.

  No matter what she said, she couldn’t be trusted. And Rory and Fergus were daft to think she could be. If they told him to calm himself one more time, he was going to beat them to a bloody pulp. Mayhap he should—at the least it would relieve some of his pent-up fury. Release some of the anger that the damn faery flag had brou
ght her, the one person he’d hoped never to see again.

  She raised her golden gaze to his and he silently cursed, wondering how her resemblance to his brother had escaped him. He’d been so bloody enchanted by her bonny looks and sweet nature he’d failed to note anything else but that.

  “What did you do to Lachlan to make him run away?”

  “Me?” he roared. “Ye have a lot of nerve tryin’ to pin this on me.”

  “Don’t you yell at her, Aidan MacLeod,” Aileanna said fiercely.

  Rory sighed, gesturing for his wife to calm herself. “Aidan, can you keep it down lest you wake the bairns. We seem to be goin’ around in circles with the two of you blamin’ each other, but ’tis no’ doin’ Lan a bit of good. The hour grows late, why doona we sleep on this and mayhap on the morrow things will appear clearer?”

  “Nay, I doona care if we have to stay up all night. I’m goin’ to get the truth from her.”

  “You’re wasting your time. I keep trying to tell you, I haven’t seen my brother in more than a year.”

  “And why should I believe ye? ’Tis in yer nature to lie. ’Tis what ye did from the first time I laid eyes on ye.”

  Her wee hands balled into fists on her lap, and not for the first time Aidan wondered how Aileanna had convinced her to part with her golden sword. “I never lied to Lachlan.”

  “Nay, but ye lied to me. ‘I canna remember my kin,’” he mimicked. “‘The Lowlanders took me.’”

  “I never said that, you did,” she snapped.

  “But ye didna deny it. Men could’ve died on account of yer lie but that wouldna bothered ye. All ye Fae are a murderous bunch.”

  She sprang to her feet and strode toward him, her eyes flashing. “Don’t cast aspersions on my race, Mortal! You don’t have any idea of what you speak. The only reason I kept my identity a secret was because Lachlan told me you would want me dead.”

  “Aye, I would have. That’s the first truthful thing to come out of yer mouth this night.” He steeled himself against the wounded expression that crossed her delicate features.