by Kyra Whitton
Did he still desire her?
She swallowed. He was certainly beautiful, and despite her brief fear of him, she supposed they had become friends. She’d certainly come to enjoy her time with him, their competition, jokes, the way he had made her forget… everything.
Her brows slowly drew together as she met his gaze. But did she want him like that?
The resounding answer in both her heart and mind was no. She didn’t feel a draw to him, she never really had. She had pulled him into the backseat of her father’s car because she was finally feeling again and needed the release. Perhaps he was looking for that, too, and they found the sex mutually beneficial.
But Alec had ruined her. She didn’t want Iain. Not again. Not ever. The hands she wanted on her naked form were Alec’s hands. The mouth she wanted on her own was Alec’s. The arms she wanted wrapped around her when the world didn’t make sense were Alec’s arms.
Evie jumped across the veil looking for answers and Alec was her answer. Did the rest really make a difference?
No, it didn’t.
Because she no longer cared. She didn’t care if Elizabeth or Ailsa or whatever her name was shared her soul. She didn’t care why she was important or why Mora wanted her so badly.
But the hurt she had seen on Alec’s face mattered. Wanting to make up for it mattered.
“Iain.”
He leaned forward, his lips brushing her cheek where his finger had just been.
“I know,” he whispered softly.
A lone tear trailed down her cheek, skimming around the curve of her jaw.
“I’m sorry.” Her whisper was barely audible.
He gave her a gentle smile. “For what?”
Cold wrapped around her as he moved away, taking his warmth with him. She shivered.
“We’ll leave at first light,” he murmured then left her to the grand, empty room.
****
First light didn’t mean what she thought it meant.
She thought there would be time for a nap, perhaps a meal, but she’d barely had time to redress before Iain came knocking on her door, again.
“You just left.” Evie squinted at a fully changed and clean Iain.
He nodded toward her window. “Yes, and light is already straining across the horizon.”
She tossed a look over her shoulder to the window and seeing he was right, stuck her tongue out at him. “How do you get used to it?”
He pushed into the room. “Used to what?”
“Time not making sense.”
Iain shrugged. “It makes perfect sense. It’s your side of the realm that’s off.”
“How long have you been here?” she said more to herself to him as she pulled on a leather cuirass.
He only looked at her blandly. She should have known better than to ask.
“You do know you have a whole wardrobe full of those things, right? You don’t have to keep wearing the old dirty ones.” He nodded to the large wardrobe she hadn’t opened since arriving.
“I didn’t want to mess them up for whomever they belong to.” That, and despite her new penchant for throwing sharp objects, the multitude of daggers and knives still made her uneasy.
Iain canted his head but didn’t say anything. Instead, he sighed with exasperation, went to the wardrobe, and pulled out a pack. Each of the clothing items hanging inside were unceremoniously yanked down and dumped inside the leather bag.
“Put it on.”
He dumped it into her arms, and she shrugged the straps over her shoulders as he returned to the wardrobe. Extracting several of the knives from their rests, he then tucked them in her belt and slid one inside the shaft of her boot.
"You'll need this, too."
She took the sword and baldric he held out. “Really?”
He merely raised an eyebrow and hoisted up her archery equipment.
“Is all of this really necessary?” She struggled to get the leather strap under the pack already on her back.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You never know what—or who—you will meet out there. And it’s better to be prepared than sorry. Besides, she will expect to see you like this, so it’s better to just… do it.”
Evie rolled her shoulders, testing the weight of it all. “I think I might fall over,” she complained.
“You’ll get used to it.” He handed her the bow and quiver of arrows.
“But what about my leg?”
He stopped to consider, as if he had forgotten about her injury altogether. “We’ll be on horseback.”
She recalled how stiff she became when sitting in one position for too long. And the strain riding put on her body before the accident. “I don’t really think that is going to make much of a difference,” she grumbled.
“Well, it’s going to happen one way or the other. Just let me know if you need to stop or slow down or walk.”
Didn’t he just have an answer for everything? She nodded, though, and looked around the room once more. It was as good a home as any. She might even miss it. Then she followed Iain out, down the stairs, and into the courtyard.
Two black stallions waited for them, blanketed and saddled, their reins held by a young man—no, a boy—as they approached. The entire garrison was out in the courtyard, their colors spotless, weapons to their sides, their stances in what she could only describe as standing at attention.
She looked at Iain and wondered who exactly he was to get this sort of send off, but he didn’t meet her gaze or any of those around them. Instead, he stood next to one of the horses, his hands cupped to help her into the saddle. She felt incredibly awkward putting her foot in his hands and then having him hoist her up. She was so nervous about it, she nearly fell off the other side of the poor beast. Her face heated, and she gazed down at her hands, fingers lacing through the reins.
Iain mounted the other horse and nodded to the commander standing before her troops. The woman said something guttural in a language Evie didn’t understand, and her soldiers changed stance as one, their fists going to their chests as they bowed to Iain. He gave a curt nod, clicked his tongue, and kneed his horse into a walk. She did the same, and they exited under the portcullis side by side. But once the wide-open road spread before them, he nudged the beast into a gallop and sped off.
Not one to be left, she did the same, shooting out behind him, and into the sea grass fields edging the Myrkvior.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The moon was full and high in the heavens when she spotted the great fortress. It sat atop a rolling mountaintop, the stars its backdrop, an endless tapestry of winking lights. One tall, central tower rose up like a beacon in the night, many smaller towers flanking it. She couldn’t see how many there were, but the lights, little flickering dots against the dark stone, lit it up eerily. She could almost smell the fires as the wind whipped down the mountain, the faint smell of freshly baking bread.
Evie had never seen anything like the sky.
The constellations suggested she was on the other plane of existence Alec had described; nothing looked even remotely similar to the Greek figures she had grown up looking toward. No Orion, no Cassiopeia, no Pegasus. These stars charted different stories, different gods. She wanted to know their names, every last one of them, and their stories. She had always loved stories, especially those of times long past. She felt so small, a speck in a vastness greater than she could even imagine. And if what others had told her that was exactly what the Otherworld was: an infinite realm of land and sea and mystery.
She wondered if anyone had ever tried to reach its far corners, or if it was as great as the universe, stretching beyond imagination.
“We’ll be there by the mid-morning meal,” Iain said.
They hadn’t spoken much since leaving the sea fortress. They hadn’t needed to. She wasn’t sure how they had landed themselves in the companionable silence, but the longer it stretched, the more comfortable it became. She hadn’t thought about keeping trac
k with pen and paper until the hours had already flown by, their horses skirting the wood to the north and moving inland. And now, as their journey to Mora was ending, she felt compelled to break their silence. Perhaps it was the funny feeling in the pit of her stomach; the nerves, the fear, the excitement. Or perhaps she was tired of her own thoughts. Her own wonderings of where Alec was and if he would welcome her back with open arms. Or if he would turn away from her after the hurt she caused him.
“Why did we stop before? And for so long?”
“She didn’t want me to bring you to her until you were ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” she demanded.
“I am not privy to her every plan.”
“She has more than one?” she said sarcastically.
“I am but a single needle in the great tapestry she weaves.”
Evie wasn’t sure she didn’t hear a bit of sarcasm dripping from his lips, too.
“And your role?”
He was silent for a moment, the sounds of the night and the thud of hooves on the ground whirling around them. “Damage control.”
She turned to look at his silhouette, his straight nose and strong chin against the backdrop of stars. “What do you mean?”
“I’m the clean-up crew.”
“Does that make me the mess?” she drawled and raised an eyebrow. “Tell me, am I fraternity house vomit or just post-football game litter?”
He shook his head and chuckled. “Yes and neither.”
“Mmm. Dinner dishes?”
He laughed. “Unswept floors, maybe?”
She snorted. “I guess it could be worse.”
“And why was I a mess that needed to be cleaned up?” she pondered aloud.
“Because the one meant to find you and bring you back… failed. Miserably. A couple of times, it would seem.”
She blinked. “Oh. Who was it?”
He gazed up at the fortress. “I think you know.”
She frowned. No, she really didn’t. He couldn’t mean Alec, could he? That made no sense. Alec didn’t want to be anywhere near Mora…
Wait. Alec had thought she was after him, not her. He had said as much. Was it possible he had misunderstood and he had been brought into her service to bring Elizabeth? Perhaps he was bait?
“Why does she want me?”
“Those plans are not mine to tell.”
“But Flora was part of them.”
“Yes.”
“And what was Flora’s role?”
Perhaps if she knew why Flora was brought into the Otherworld, she could figure out what her own role was. The women of Culloden were clearly a piece of whatever was going on. She, Evie, representing Elizabeth Meyner Carlisle. Flora had to be Flora Macdonald. And the third, Lady Anne Farquharson Macintosh. Who was her player?
“She is falling into it.”
Evie rolled her eyes. Why was giving her information so difficult for these people? She tried another tactic. “Owen’s part then?”
She could just make out the lift of his lips in the light of the moon, as though he were proud of her for working it out. “He was merely an insurance policy.”
“An insurance policy for what, though?”
“Something she has been planning for a very, very long time.”
“You’ve been with her for a very, very long time,” Evie pointed out..
“That I have.”
“And what is her plan?”
He shot her a bored look, one eyebrow slightly cocked, his head canted toward her. But his lips were sealed, even if slightly upturned.
Evie groaned in frustration. “You really are no help, you know.”
“I know.”
“About the promise you made…”
He kept staring off toward the castle. It was growing larger, looming over them.
“Will you… get in trouble for helping me?”
He shrugged. “If you want to go.”
“You think I won’t.”
“I do.”
She didn’t want to tell him he was wrong. But she’d been biding her time, only fulfilling her part of the bargain to get back to Alec. It was what kept her going. Especially now that her leg was starting to twinge. Shifting in the saddle she tried to stretch her leg out but failed miserably.
“Will you?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s likely.”
Two heartbeats passed. “How?”
“I’m sure she has a special hole carved into the wilderness just for me.” He chuckled.
“You almost sound as if you like her,” she accused.
“Is that such a bad thing?”
Evie wasn’t sure how to answer.
As they approached the first fiery cresset welcoming them to the enormous fortress, light peeked over the horizon to the east, painting a thin golden line across the mountains, the first fingers reaching toward the citadel.
Closer now, she could make out the smaller towers built into the massive wall. She gazed up at them, guessing they had to be at least ten stories tall, guards patrolling the top of the walls set between them. Ebony colored stone, as smooth and glossy as a mirror, reflected the torchlight. Each massive brick was taller and longer than her horse. The fire eerily bounced off the surface and the fortress glowed in the dawn.
“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” Iain murmured.
Evie could only nod dumbly.
They travelled up the mountain, drawing ever closer as they took the switchback trails, the torches lighting the way. They settled back into that silence, Evie’s awe sucking the words right out of her. The winds died down, the chirping of birds quieted, even the flames licked with less ferocity. The sun lit the sky by the time they reached the great portcullis, and she wondered if the whole of the sea fortress could sit in the gaping maw of the dark castle.
Soldiers lined the tunnel through the thick outer wall. It was as long as a lap pool, the torches lighting it into a long mirror. Evie couldn’t help but gaze at her form in the reflective black stone. She cut a rather impressive figure, she thought for the first time. Her face had thinned out and her eyes were large and bright. And yet she appeared strong. Powerful. She had never felt strong and powerful anywhere but a library or a classroom. She could have been mistaken for a warrior.
When she turned back to Iain, he was watching her, a knowing smile playing along his lips. He knew what it was like to see oneself for the first time. The surprise. The pleasure. The excitement.
They emerged from the wall’s entrance into the courtyard. It stretched in a wide circle around that central building, the heart of the castle, its tall tower shooting into the fading stars. Its mistress clearly valued the night sky. And a vantage point.
A guard wearing an intricate helmet met them, bowing low before waving over a set of grooms.
Iain jumped down from his mount as one of them took the reins and he circled the horse to come to Evie’s side. She took the hand he offered for support and swung her leg around to drop into the dirt beside him. She realized he made it appear a show of deference to her rather than offering himself as a crutch. But the moment her leg buckled under her weight, she was glad for it. The pain shot through her sore limb and she sucked in a breath.
He leaned in.
“All right?”
She shook her head. “I need a minute,” she said through clenched teeth.
“I will keep saying nonsense until you are ready. Keep your face serious, do not show any sign of emotion or weakness.”
She gave a curt nod.
“They are all watching you. No, don’t look at them. They are beneath you. Remember that. Do not look at them, do not smile at them. You answer only to her. Say something obnoxious if you understand.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“Nice, though not terribly clever.”
She glared.
“Good. You certainly look the part.”
“The part?” she demanded.
“Of Ailsa.”
Before she could question him, he threw his hands up and took a step back, as if she had threatened him.
“Better?” he asked, mouth barely moving.
She pursed her lips, assessed, and faced away from him.
He lowered his hands. “Straight up the stairs into the throne room. Go.”
Evie pivoted toward the main building, carefully, and strode steadily, working through the stitch in her leg. Iain fell in step behind her, and she relaxed her face into an unreadable mask despite the desperate speeding of her heart. She could do this. She just needed to get through this, whatever this was, and then she would be back on her way to Alec.
She replayed their reunion she had been constructing in her head. She would probably cry because she always did. Beg him for his forgiveness. He would be angry. Hurt. And she could swipe at her tears and choke through how much she loved him, but that she was just so unsure of everything.
Yes, that sounded about right. He would forgive her, though. He had to. She just couldn’t imagine a world where he wouldn’t forgive her the time she needed. Granted, she’d spent it in none of the ways she expected, but it had still brought her back to him.
The large double doors swung open, and she trudged into the hall as the sky lightened to a robin’s egg blue.
One step closer to Alec.
His name became her chant. Every step, every painful movement, was a step to Alec.
The hall was vaulted. Black and silver banners, the three rings glinting in the candle light, hung from the arcades. The passage stretched further than the thickness of the outer wall, its white carpet a sharp contrast to the black stone. A dais was surrounded by people in dark clothes, all waiting. Watching her.
Evie swallowed. She was almost there. Almost to Alec.
She glanced up at the dais. Her breath caught in her throat and the dizzying pace of her pulse tripled.
Because, next to the most beautiful woman she had ever seen stood Calum.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Iain prodded her forward.
“They are all watching you,” he muttered.
But she could focus on nothing but Calum. Calum was standing there. Calum, who had died.
