Chapter Eleven
The ride back to the keep was exhilarating.
She hadn’t felt that alive and free in a long time.
The wind whipped through her hair leaving it in tangles as she galloped along, the cold biting through her clothes.
But she didn’t care because it was wonderful to be on the back of a horse again, even if she was stuck in the Middle Ages.
Jamie caught up to her before they made it to the gate.
He gave her a wicked grin as he encouraged his mount to go faster.
A laugh escaped her throat as she tried to follow, but he pulled ahead of her and reached the portcullis first. He reined in his horse, coming to a halt, leaving a shower of dirt clods in his wake.
When she came a halt near him, she was grinning from ear to ear as was he.
“Ye lost, lass.”
“This time,” she said with a grin.
“Will there be a next time, then?” There was a twinkle of mirth in his eyes as he smirked, showing off those two deep dimples.
“Of course, there will.”
Together, they trotted back to the stables. The stable hands were busy doing their tasks when they arrived. As Brianna dismounted, she wondered if it was possible to care for the horse. She wasn’t ready to go back into the keep and face her sisters.
“How about I remove the saddle and brush her down?” Brianna offered.
Surprise flickered over his face. “Ye wish do to that yerself?”
“Yes, if that’s all right. It’s been a while since I was able to care for a horse. I miss it.”
Jamie said nothing as he stepped down from his mount. One of the stable boys rushed over to take the reins and lead his away. When a second arrived to do the same for her horse, he waved him off.
“If ye wish, lass. I’ll show ye the stall.”
He motioned forward. Clutching the reins, she followed him to the last stall on the left, which had thick wooden planks as a half-wall divider between the other stalls.
She led the horse inside. The floor was packed earth covered in hay.
Faint sunlight filtered through the narrow slits in the stone wall.
On one side of the stall was a bucket of oats.
On the other, a water trough with fresh water.
Jamie remained in the doorway of the stall and watched with a curious eye as she unbuckled the girth strap.
The horse shifted once the strap hung loose, adjusting to the sudden freedom.
She moved to the horse’s left and grabbed the pommel and the cantle, ready to lift off the saddle off the horse.
When she tried, though, she realized this was no modern-day Western saddle. This was a lot heavier.
Jamie moved into the stall, his feet shuffling the hay. She sensed his presence behind her.
“Allow me?” he asked.
She turned her head and met his gaze. He was looking at her intently. A heated flush crept up her cheeks. She took a step away and allowed him to lift the saddle without effort. He placed it over the low half-stall wall.
Brianna removed the saddlecloth and draped it over the wall. Then she ran her hands over the back and sides, feeling for any sign of chafing or soreness.
“Ye really do care for them, don’t ye?” There was wonder in his voice.
“I do. When I took riding lessons, I loved helping. Brushing her, bathing her, or whatever needed to be done. I even mucked the stalls.”
It was a time in her life she hadn’t thought about in so long. A memory long buried.
“Why did ye stop riding?” he asked.
She inhaled a deep breath, expelled it. “When Evie and Chloe were born, things changed. The house we lived in wasn’t big enough. My parents wanted to move. We’d be too far away for me to take lessons anymore. So, I had to give it up.”
It was hard to hide the twinge of sadness in her voice.
“I’m sorry ye had to give it up.”
“Me, too.”
She unbuckled the bridle, but the horse jerked its head as she tried to remove it, causing the buckle to jerk out of her hand. The rough edge of the buckle raked across her scarred palm, leaving behind a gash and well of blood. She sucked in a sharp breath, releasing the bridle.
“Och, ye’re hurt. We best go wash that out.”
She clutched her wrist as she cupped her hand. “It’s not bad.”
“Come on then. The stable hands can handle the rest.”
He clutched her by the elbow and led her out of the stable back to the keep. In the great hall, he pointed to one of the chairs.
“I’ll be back,” he said.
She perched on the edge of a chair, holding her hand palm up in her lap and waited in the silence. It was a relief to be to be in the great hall without her sisters. She heaved a sigh, knowing she had likely further damaged her relationship with Chloe.
Jamie returned a moment later with a bowl, a pitcher, and Evie on his heels. Her face was pinched with worry as she carried long strips of linen.
“Let me see your hand,” Evie demanded. She placed the strips of linen on the table and took the seat next to her, holding out her hand.
Brianna gave her a sidelong look. “Since when did you get so bossy?”
Evie pressed her lips together, holding her hand out, waiting for Brianna to comply. “Since I had to be in charge of things. Show me.”
Huffing out a breath, she placed her hand in Evie’s. She peered down at the small cut with a critical eye as if looking for something. It had already stopped bleeding.
“Did you touch the keystone when you cut your hand?”
What an odd question. “No.”
Evie’s gaze flickered back up to Jamie, who stood there still holding the bowl and the pitcher.
“I can take it from here,” she told him, dismissing him.
Without a word, he placed them on the table and then walked away. But he cast a longing look at her as he departed. Brianna kept her gaze on him as he moved through the great hall to the staircase that led to the upper floor.
“Why did you dismiss him? He was trying to help,” Brianna said.
“I need to tell you something.”
She paused as she gathered her thoughts. Then she held out her scarred hand for Brianna to see. She clearly made out the lines from her piece of the keystone. But there, across the scar, was a faint silvery scar. Like something had slashed across her palm.
“You cut yourself, too?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “It’s what powers the stone.”
Brianna’s gaze narrowed as she looked at her younger sister. “What does?”
She lifted her gaze from her hand and met Brianna’s. “Blood.”
“Really, Evie, if this is some riddle or something—”
“It’s blood magic. That’s what she’s trying to tell you.” Chloe’s voice echoed through the great hall as she stepped into the room.
Brianna pulled her hand out of Evie’s grasp and placed it back in her lap. Chloe paused next to Evie and showed Brianna her palm. She had the same type of scarring on her palm—a brand from the stone as well as a silver slash.
“You both cut your hands? Why?”
The twins exchanged a glance as silent communication passed between them. It was something they’d done a lot when they were younger, as though they had telepathy and always knew what the other was thinking. Chloe gave her a nod of encouragement.
“We have a lot to tell you,” Evie said. “But first, we should clean that wound before it gets infected.”
*
Two hours later, Brianna sagged against the chair.
She still sat at the great hall table, utterly drained from listening to the two of them tell the story of how they had both ended up in the past, how they had both cut their hands and used the blood magic and the stone to see into their respective time.
Evie had the power of the Present. Apparently, she had the ability to create a time bubble, to slow down time, and see all the possible outcomes of immediate choices.
She’d used this to see the battle Callum had faced with Rory MacDonald.
She’d seen his death in several different scenarios if she hadn’t intervened.
Chloe had the power of the Past, giving her the ability to extract memories from people as well as uncover ancient truths.
Like Evie, she’d had visions of the past showing her the history between clans Sinclair and MacLeod, how the Night of Shadows had come about and how the Triple Goddess had shattered the Stone and proclaimed both clans protectors.
Brianna held the power of the Future. None of them yet knew what power that would give her. Evie, though, was determined to find out. She stared at the small piece of stone on the table in front of her. Next to it, a dagger. The candlelight winked off the sharp blade.
“You’re telling me if cut open my palm and I bleed on the stone, it will give me this power?” Brianna asked. She wasn’t sure she believed in any of this.
“Yes,” Evie said.
“You know this for a fact?”
“Yes,” Evie replied.
Brianna looked to Chloe, who had remained mostly quiet during Evie’s tale. “And it worked for you like that?”
“Not at first,” Chloe said. “It was only later after Malcolm and I—” She pressed her lips together. She was unwilling to tell her what she and Malcolm had been doing, but Brianna knew. “I discovered I had to touch Malcolm and the stone to invoke the power.”
“Why?” Brianna asked.
She shrugged. “Maybe because we’re connected.”
“But it wasn’t like that for me,” Evie said. “Only when Moira sliced my hand did I gain that power the night of the battle.”
Brianna stared at the dagger next to her piece of the stone. She glanced down at her hand freshly bandaged hand in her lap, wondering if she was insane to even consider what Evie wanted to do.
“The only way we’ll know what power of the Future you hold is if we do this,” Evie urged.
She peered at her little sister. The one who was always so quiet and reserved.
The one who seemed to be a bit of a pushover, the one who never stuck up for herself.
Now, she was a different person. She was strong and insistent.
A born leader who had become the lady of the castle.
The wife of a laird and soon to be a mother.
She took a deep breath, expelled it, and made her decision hoping it wasn’t one she’d regret.
“All right. Let’s give it a try, then.”