It seemed, at some point, she had shifted back.
“What happened?” she croaked. Her mouth was bone-dry from breathing frigid air. She met Ethyn’s eyes then looked at his blade. “Why...”
When she trailed off, relief flashed in Ethyn’s gaze, and he sheathed his blade. “’Tis truly Ciara. She’s back.”
Trembling so hard she could barely stand, she was grateful when Ethyn wrapped his arms around her. She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his chest, comforted by the heat of his body. The sense of peace that filled her.
Marek took up position in front of David. “How can you be sure ‘tis her?”
“Because I felt her return.” Ethyn cupped the back of her head, soothing her considerably. “’Tis verra much Ciara standing here, cousin.”
“What happened?” Ethyn said into her mind, the fear in his telepathic voice clear. “Ye were completely gone. Vanished. ‘Twas...unsettling.”
Based on what she felt in his mind, it was more than that for him. Rather, downright terrifying. Nearly identical to how she’d felt when he was possessed.
“I don’t know what happened.” She allowed him to see and feel where she’d been through the mind. “One second Tiernan was talking about Fionn Mac Cumhail and his warriors, the next the darkness started closing in. I couldn’t escape...it swallowed me whole.”
“Are ye all right, Ciara?” David asked, not frightened by the looks of it, but truly worried about her.
“I am, thank you.” Far steadier now, she pulled away and looked at the boy the best she could around Marek, who clearly remained unconvinced she could be trusted. Though it saddened her to say as much, it was for the best right now. “I think, however, you shouldn't be around Phelan for a while, King David. Not until we figure out what’s going on with her.”
“She was taken over is all,” David replied, far more astute than she anticipated. But then he’d seen some incredible things since the MacLomains, and their kin came into his life. “’Tis clear that wasnae Phelan or you who growled, but evil.”
“’Twas clear.” Tiernan sheathed his blade and urged the others to do the same. “But I agree with Ciara. ‘Tis best we track down what overtook Phelan before she’s around ye again, my king. Yer safety must come first.”
“Aye, then.” David sighed, stepped around Marek, and embraced Ciara. “’Twill be all right. We’ll save Phelan.”
She returned his hug, touched by the gesture. Impressed by his courage. Because, if what she’d seen in everyone’s eyes was anything to go off of, never mind their drawn blades, Phelan had been damn threatening.
Which meant Ciara herself had been a threat.
Ethyn urged her to drink some water as everyone finally sat and ate. She couldn’t eat a bite if she tried, though. Her stomach remained in knots.
“Might some fresh air help?” Ethyn asked, concerned when she didn’t touch her food.
“Yeah, I think it would.” She glanced at the others. “Sorry, I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“Totally understandable.” Julie frowned, just as concerned about her. “Want me to join you?”
“No, I’m okay, but thanks.”
When she stood, Ethyn did as well.
“No, stay,” she insisted. “Eat.”
“I can eat and walk.” He grabbed several pieces of bannock. “You shouldnae be alone right now.”
Though he said it as if merely concerned about her well-being, she knew there was more to it. He was afraid it might happen again. If it did, he intended to be there to bring her back. Because they both knew it was his voice that had pulled her from the darkness.
“As well as the Viking blade, I’d say,” he said once they left the tent, obviously following her thoughts. “It definitely helped.”
“Then I can only be grateful.”
Rather than walk through the encampment, he steered her into the forest where they would have more privacy.
“You prefer the woodland, aye?” He glanced at her. “Because of your wolf?”
“I do, actually.” The forest had more often than not soothed her tormented soul from life to life. The inner angst she’d lived with could be overwhelming sometimes.
“It suits you,” he said softly. “Not just your wolf, but you too.”
Unsure what to say to that, she simply continued on, content with the easy silence that settled between them as he ate. She knew there were things he wanted to talk about, but he was giving her time to gather herself. Yet as the fresh air filled her lungs and the queasiness vanished, her heart fluttered, and breathing didn’t come as easily as it should. Responses, she realized, that had everything to do with her awareness of him. What he was capable of making her feel.
Her mind returned to their kiss earlier. The astounding impact it had on her. She had every intention of pulling away, stopping it, but it was impossible. When she first shifted, she had been strong enough to do it, but she lacked the willpower this time. It had felt thrilling and new, but at the same time as though she’d kissed him a hundred times before.
“I think you have kissed me before.” He followed her thoughts swiftly now. “In that life...the one we dreamt of.”
“Right, because we were in love,” she murmured. “Before I became a wolf.”
“Were cursed to become a wolf,” he clarified, evidently having given this some thought. “A curse that might verra well be lifted if we but kill who cursed you.”
“Do you think that’s what it’ll come down to?” She had given this some thought as well. “Could it really be that simple?”
“Mayhap.” He paused, speculating, formulating a plan it seemed. “Why not use one of our cursed-lines to go back to ancient Ireland? Find who cursed you ahead of time and kill them before they have a chance to harm you? Us?”
“Setting aside the fact things will likely be as shrouded as before because of the curse, you’re here to see David through the next leg of his journey,” she reminded. “We have a battle to attend, don’t we?”
“Aye, but it doesnae take place for a few more days.” He stopped walking. “Which should allow us plenty of time to get there and back. Now that the curse is starting to unravel mayhap things will be less shrouded.”
She considered it, seeing the logic in his plan. But then she also saw the desperation. The danger it might entail. “Setting aside that time might go by faster here while we're gone, wouldn’t it be wiser to let things play out as they will like they did for everyone else? The couples that came before us?”
“Everyone else didnae have evil possessing them at will.” Worry lit his eyes that had nothing to do with his possession and everything to do with hers. “Seeing that happen to Phelan, ye, back there...” Ethyn paused, clearly trying to rally his emotions. “I cannae allow that to happen again, Ciara.” He shook his head. “Not if it might be in my power to stop it.”
“Might being the key word,” she said softly. They continued walking. “Though I’ve never seen them head-on, I saw enough of the Brotherhood’s magic and darkness when Madison traveled back to know they’re damned powerful. Evil through and through.” She shook her head. “You and I are nowhere near being able to take on that kind of power.” Glancing at her ring, she sighed. “Especially without igniting the power of my ring.”
Thus far, though she prayed it would, the gem had yet to flicker his eye color.
“We could return to the twenty-first century,” he speculated. “End Alyssa there.”
“Assuming, of course,” Grant Hamilton said, materializing alongside them, “Alyssa is actually the enemy.” He smiled at Ciara. “I spoke to Adlin. ’Tis nice to finally meet you as you should be, lass.”
She smiled at the ghostly wizard who had, from the afterlife, helped everyone on their adventures. “Nice to meet you as well, Grant.”
“Ciara is almost certain Alyssa is the enemy.” Ethyn nodded hello to his kin. “Mayhap if we confront her, ‘twill confirm that.”
“Or,” she cou
ntered, reminding him of what she’d said at the beginning. “Coming into contact with Alyssa will tighten the noose. Maybe make me the enemy and her your one true love.” She frowned. “I mean, look at what just happened in David’s tent. How easily I can, in fact, become the enemy.”
“’Tis daunting, that,” Grant agreed. His lower body twisted on the wind then stabilized. “Yet, I wonder.”
When he didn’t continue but appeared lost in thought, Ethyn prompted him along. “Wonder what, Grant?”
“Well, curses tend to be clear up front,” he replied. “If you know you’re cursed, you usually know why from the start. And whilst, aye, it can be said that part of your journey is to discover the ‘why’ in all this, it strikes me odd you would already be so sure of the ‘who,’ Ciara.”
“Why is that odd?” She shrugged. “My subconscious is letting me know things piecemeal.”
“Mayhap,” he conceded. “Yet on the same token, considering how easily Phelan was just possessed, might it not be said that things arenae as cut and dry as you think? That mayhap this darkness you just witnessed is feeding you false information?” He perked a brow. “Whilst aye, ‘tis clear you’ve been cursed, and kept from your love in the body of a wolf, how do you know the rest of what you believe isnae being manipulated?”
She stopped short and shook her head. “So you don’t think Alyssa and I both pined for Ethyn in another life? That she cursed me because she couldn’t have him?”
“I dinnae know for sure, but I think ‘twould be unwise to murder someone based on a tale your subconscious has convinced you is true.” Grant faded into a ray of sunlight then reappeared. “I think ‘tis best to follow the path of your ring and let the memories of you and Ethyn in that first life unravel as they will. Let what happened, and the curse laid upon you, become clearer.”
Though unsettled by his speculations about her subconscious, she nodded, agreeing with his advice.
“’Tis easy enough to say when you didnae just see what I saw,” Ethyn grumbled, his turbulent gaze on Grant. “I watched Ciara vanish. Simply cease to exist. ‘Twas...verra hard.”
Though tempted to squeeze his hand, she held back.
“She didnae cease to exist,” Grant assured. “For, I still sensed her somewhere betwixt the land of the living and death.” His gaze went to the sky. To her cursed-lines. “For that is where her soul dwells between each life as a wolf.”
Before she could ask Grant what he meant, he went on.
“I think more than focusing on your subconscious revelations, Ciara,” Grant advised, “you should tie together what you learn in dream-memories to what triggers your soul to retract back to that in-between place and—”
That was all Grant got out before a gust of wind blew pine needles through him, and he splintered away.
Moments later, as though his very words triggered it, another gust of wind blew away one reality and replaced it with another.
Chapter Ten
“’TIS THE IRISH Stonehenge,” he said into Ciara’s mind, pulling her close as moonlit fog swirled around them. They stood near the same stone that had been at the Clava Cairns Stonehenge.
“There are only five stones, though,” she replied. “Which, if Madison’s right, means we’re in a safe space, so to speak, right?”
“That’s the theory.” He slowly unsheathed the Viking blade, careful to be quiet lest something lurked beyond. Best to be safe just in case. “And I tend to agree. We’re safe here.”
“That’s right.” She met his eyes. “You feel honored when you’re at this Stonehenge. Favored.”
“Aye.” He nodded. “The opposite of what everyone else initially felt here.”
“Right.” She paused as if she sensed something. “But that was just everyone sensing what would eventually happen in this spot. The evil trying to seek them all out.” She shook her head. “With three rings since ignited, nobody should feel that way here now, dream or no dream.”
“But how does it exist beyond a dream?” he wondered, looking from stone to stone. “Because in reality, there are nine standing stones here.”
“I don’t know,” she murmured. “Or do I?”
Her thoughts swirled with his like the fog around the stones, trying to reveal something. Show them the way. Give them a sense of direction.
“Just like Tiernan’s magical tattoo compass.” He narrowed his eyes, trying to follow a revelation just out of reach. A truth they needed to see. “A message...”
“A map,” she whispered. “Left not just by Goddess Étaín and the Guardian Witches but by something else too...someone else.”
“Who, though?” He struggled to follow the quickly fading knowledge. “Someone who was ultimately unable to hide the stones in Scotland from the brotherhood, but has kept these five...”
“Hidden within Tiernan’s tat somehow,” she continued when he trailed off. “Not just that, but more and more memories are surfacing as each couple comes together. Memories born of this Stonehenge. Born of these stones. This place.”
“Though the stones are now in Scotland,” he murmured, “the memories continue right here, creating a power of their own. In two places at once like what happened betwixt Tiernan and Julie on their adventure.”
“So as our memories help us to ultimately close off each Stonehenge in Scotland, barring off the Brotherhood,” she continued, “power is building here.”
“Power to fight the Brotherhood from the inside out,” he went on, not entirely sure what that meant but certain he was right. “From two places at once.”
“Power they don’t even realize exists yet,” she said in wonder. “But will once we seal off one more Stonehenge.”
“Nay, two,” he replied, certain of it when a strange sensation rolled over him. “Four in Scotland. One elsewhere.”
“And all orchestrated by whoever let Étaín and the Guardian Witches know the brotherhood’s foul intentions.” Her eyes drifted to the stones. “Someone with the gift of prophecy.”
Their eyes widened on each other.
“You dinnae think...?” he said.
“Destiny?” Ciara's eyes narrowed, and she shook her head. “But then nothing says it’s someone we know. It could be anyone with that gift.”
“Aye.” He pondered Grant’s advice that they not jump to conclusions about who was and wasn't an enemy. “It could be anyone, but I sense ‘tis someone we know.” He perked a brow at her. “Mayhap Alyssa has the gift of prophecy too, and ‘tis her.”
“Which would make Destiny the imposter Broun.” Ciara frowned, clearly not buying that. “Either way, I think we’re definitely on to something here.”
He nodded in agreement, more curious than ever. “Why would I feel so different than everyone else the first time I dreamt of this place, though? What made me unique?”
“I don’t know.” Ciara's gaze drifted to the monstrous oak beside the stones. It was so mighty half its exposed roots wrapped partway around the Stonehenge. It was the same mystical tree that stood there when nine stones were visible. A constant in all this. “That tree...”
He looked at it, startled, shocked that he hadn’t realized sooner. “’Tis the verra tree that was over the cave in which I killed Phelan!”
“It is.” Her internal voice grew emotional when her gaze dropped to their standing stone. It was the only rock completely beneath the tree. “And this is the stone my wolf ends up at every time I die...”
Dumbfounded, he looked to her and back only to find the tree, and Stonehenge vanished, and the forest returned to normal. Just like that, they had returned to the Scottish woodlands beyond David’s camp. A camp that was packing up to make its final two-day trek to where the battle would commence.
“Did you see it?” Ciara stared in awe at her ring.
“See what?”
“I could’ve sworn my gem flickered with color right before we shifted back here.”
“’Tis good.” Wonderful if he were being truthful. Though he dreaded a
sking because he feared her answer, he had to know. “What color was it?”
She looked at him tentatively. “What color do you hope it was?”
“The color of my eyes,” he stated bluntly, meaning it. “Whilst I cannae claim love yet, I’m undoubtedly drawn to you, Ciara. I want to know you better.”
“What if you don’t end up liking who I am?” she asked just as bluntly. “Then, what? You hope it shines the color of Marek’s eyes? Because that’s who we’re down to.”
He ignored a surge of jealousy and kept with humor. The first he’d felt in some time. “Marek doesnae like wolves.”
“Oh, I bet I could get him to come around,” she teased.
“Mayhap,” he conceded. “After you and I get to know each other better.”
He knew even as he said it, no such thing would happen between her and Marek. Despite not confessing love, what he felt for Ciara was strong and growing stronger by the moment. So the idea of the ring matching anyone’s eyes but his seemed far-fetched at best.
Did she think so, though?
While they should be focusing on what they’d just seen at the Irish Stonehenge and how it connected with their previous life, he had to know.
“Were you glad your gem was the color of my eyes?” he asked nonchalantly as they headed back toward camp.
“I never said it was.”
“You didnae have to.” He winked. “Even if ‘twas not in your thoughts ‘twas written all over your face.”
A soft smile curled her mouth. “Honestly, I think we both know if it wasn’t the color of your eyes, I wouldn’t be joking with you.” She glanced at him almost shyly before she looked ahead again. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, Ethyn. I don’t see that changing because of the whims of a ring.”
“Even that ring?” he wondered, inwardly thrilled at her response. Her confirmation.
“Even this ring,” she assured softly, glancing at him again. “Why ask something you already know the answer to?”
“Truthfully?” He took her hand as they walked. “To lend some normalcy to all this, I suppose...to connect with you, Ciara, beyond the wolf.” When she went to pull her hand away, clearly still concerned about the curse, he shook his head and didn’t let go. “Nay, lass, ‘tis too late for that, and well you know it.” He shrugged. “Besides, I think we should heed Grant’s advice and not let your subconscious dictate our every move.”
A Scot's Favor (The MacLomain Series: End of an Era, #4) Page 7
