Chapter Twenty-Five
Jamie was staring at the changed image when Evie entered the room. She paused in the doorway, hesitating, as if unsure whether or not she should enter.
“They changed,” he said, almost as an invitation.
She moved to stand next to him and followed his gaze. She stared in stunned silence.
“It’s you,” she finally said. “Not us as it was before.”
“Aye,” he agreed.
“Those ruins were never there before,” she said, eyeing the crumbling jagged walls in the tapestry.
“’Tis Castle Caelnar. It was built as a coastal fortress to guard against invaders and was once the stronghold of Clan MacRae. Local legend whispers the ruins are haunted by spirits cursed to roam the lands forever.”
She shuddered, clutching her elbows. He’d never put much stock into the eerie legend, though now that he saw this place in the tapestry, he wondered if there was some truth to it. Mayhap the spirits of the Triple Goddess were the ones haunting the ruins.
“If the tapestry has changed, that means something else has changed.” She turned to him, reached for his branded hand. He held his palm up to her. She traced the burned lines. “Because of this maybe.”
“I dinnae ken,” he said.
“Two bloodlines.” Her glittering gaze lifted to his. “One destiny. It’s the two of you now.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure. But it appears you are the second bloodline that helps shift the timeline.”
“I dinnae ken what to do.” His voice was soft, shaking. And he hated that.
Most of his life, he had known what to do. He’d never backed down from a fight. But now, apprehension shifted through him. Aye, he knew he had to find Brianna—and he knew where to start. He had to get her away from the MacDonalds. But at what cost? Would he have to trade the keystone to do it?
Deep down, he knew he absolutely would trade the keystone for her life. He wanted her safe. He wanted her away from them. If it were the only way to save her, so be it.
“Yes, you do.” Evie gave him a smile, her eyes shimmering with tears. “You have to go after her.”
“I cannae give them the stone,” he said.
“If that’s the only way to save her, then maybe you do.” She sounded so strong, so sure. She closed his fingers, making his hand into a fist. “I’m not sure what the brand in your palm means, but I suspect it has something to do with the power of the stone.”
As if it heard her, the stone hummed in his sporran. Her brows lifted. She heard it, too.
“It’s calling,” she said.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“It means, I think, you need to find Brianna.”
“And then what?” His gut clenched with uncertainty.
“And then…” She paused, dragging her lower lip through her teeth. “And then you stop them from opening the Realm of Chaos. I think it’s up to the two of you now.”
She glanced back at the tapestry. The one where he reached for Brianna. Their hands were almost touching.
“What about ye and Chloe? My brothers?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think we matter so much now.”
“How do ye ken this, lass?”
Contemplation crossed her face as she turned her head and gazed back at the woven wall hangings.
“I can’t be sure,” she said at last. “But something changed when she gave you the keystone. Some twist of fate or destiny that formed between the two of you, altering the prophecy. As though a bond formed. We know she has the power to shift the timeline.” Her gaze flickered back to him.
“But I believe you have the power to help her do that.”
“How?” he asked.
“Blood magic,” she whispered. “It’s your blood and hers the keystone needs. Two bloodlines. One destiny.” She clutched his hand in hers, squeezed, and gave him a small smile. “Go to her, Jamie. Stop the chaos.”
He wasn’t sure if Evie was right. Was she suggesting it was his blood and Brianna’s that would help stop the coming war?
All he was sure of was that he needed to get to Brianna. He needed to find her before something happened to her. Before MacDonald realized she didn’t have the keystone.
He squeezed her hands back and gave her a nod. He was going to find her and then they would do whatever was necessary to stop MacDonald from opening the Realm of Chaos.
“Tell the others,” he said.
She nodded and released his hand. He started to turn away, to head for the door, but something stopped him. He turned back, leaned toward her and kissed her cheek.
“Ye keep my nephew safe, aye?” He glanced at the swell of her belly.
She flushed, her cheeks turning a pale pink as she cast her eyes downward. “I will. But, Jamie, how do you know it’s going to be a boy?”
He flashed a wicked, charming smile. “I just do.”
And then he hurried out of the tapestry room.
He crossed the great hall, trying hard not to notice the destruction.
Because if he did, it would tear his heart in two.
This was his home. It hurt him to know that there was a gaping hole in the roof, charred ceiling beams and furniture, and a door that had been splintered by a battering ram.
He headed out the door into the early morning light and halted. He stared across the bailey where the men of their rival clan had set up camp and left behind a mess. He clenched his fists, hating they were on his land. Hating they invaded his home. The only home he had ever known.
He shoved aside those feelings and hurried toward the stables.
His brothers stood next to their own horses, which were already saddled and ready.
“What are ye doing?” he asked.
“We thought ye might do something like this,” Callum said. “We cannae let ye go alone.”
“This isna yer fight. It’s mine,” Jamie said, standing up to his big brother.
“We’re going with ye, laddie,” Malcolm said. “And if we’re going to a war, ye’ll need this.” He handed him his claymore still in the scabbard.
Jamie took it from him, looking over both his brothers. They each had their own claymore strapped to their side, ready for battle.
“I can handle them myself,” Jamie said as he placed the belt around his waist and tightened it.
“Och, can ye now?” Callum said with a smirk.
“Have ye faced real battle, lad?” Malcolm teased.
He was aware Malcolm was the warrior and Callum was battle hardened.
But he wasn’t soft, himself. He may not have faced a real battle, as his brother put it, but he was ready and willing to fight.
He’d faced the MacDonalds alone when he was captured and injured.
He’d made his way back to Dundale on a stolen horse.
“Leave off, brother,” Callum said. Then to him, “Are ye ready, lad?”
“Aye,” Jamie said as he headed for the stall that housed his horse. He was pleased to see it was already saddled and ready to go.
“All right, then,” Callum said. “Let’s get yer bonnie lass back.”
*
The jostling of the horse jarred her as they rode at breakneck speed away from Dundale castle. The morning air was cold and brisk and bit through her woolen gown. She hadn’t a cloak and she shivered next to the man who was her captor.
Brianna had no choice but to wrap her arms around John MacDonald’s thick waist. He seemed to enjoy it while she hated every second of it. The only perk was his body was warm. But not warm enough to keep her from shivering.
She suspected most of her shivering was from the fear and apprehension swamping her, though.
She wasn’t sure what would happen to her once they discovered she didn’t have the keystone.
It had been an impulse handing it off to Jamie and one that turned out to be the right decision.
They had her, but they didn’t have the keystone.
It was a short ride—no more than an hour. Ahead, someone shouted a command to come to a halt. Her rider pulled in the reins of his mount and slowed to a stop. She dared to peek over his shoulder.
Ahead were castle ruins perched on a craggy hill. Behind it, the glistening sea.
When they arrived, the company of men set about building a camp.
Her heart leapt to her throat as she stared at the ruins. She recognized it. This was the castle from her vision with the Triple Goddess and Morrogh MacDonald. They’d brought her to the place where it all began, where the MacDonald line was cursed.
John slid off the horse, then turned to her, holding his arms up to her with a grin on his face she despised.
Ignoring him, she swung her leg over and dismounted without his help.
Surprise followed by annoyance flickered over his features before he grasped her by the arm and dragged her away toward Rory MacDonald and flanked by Bruce.
In his hand, Rory held the great axe. The blade shimmered with its magic and she worried she was about to witness him opening the portal to the Realm of Chaos. She kept her gaze fixed on him, though, as they neared. They halted in front of him. He looked her over with a sharp, critical eye.
“’Tis time to give me what I want, lass,” he said.
Her captor handed her off to him. He took hold of her, his fingers biting into her upper arm as he dragged her toward the slope leading up to the castle ruins.
Bruce and John both fell in step behind them.
Her heart drummed in her chest with every step.
And with every step as they neared, her stomach twisted tighter and tighter into a knot.
“Do ye ken this place, lass?” Rory asked.
She pressed her lips into a thin line, remaining silent.
“’Tis where it began and where it will end.”
He dragged her to the top of the slope where it flattened out, leading her through the crumbling stone walls.
No roof connected them, leaving it open to the fading light in the indigo sky.
She noticed the low stone—a round shape near the back of the ruins that stuck up out the ground about a foot.
It had a flat top, as though well worn from wind and time. It seemed an odd place for it.
Here, within the open walls, the wind whipped through her, tangling her hair and chilling her to the bone. He gave her a shove forward. She stumbled a few steps, managing to keep her balance and turned to face the three expectant faces of the men.
She recalled this place with some clarity.
It was the one from her vision, the one where the Triple Goddess had stood and cursed Morrogh for all eternity.
Before her, Rory held his great axe that continued to shimmer.
Next to him, Bruce and John held torches, their flames flickering in the violent wind.
“Well?” he asked, taking a step toward her.
She lifted her chin a little higher, her heart hammering hard. “Well, what?”
He scowled, his brow furrowing. But it was Bruce who spoke.
“Are ye daft? The keystone,” he said.
She slipped her cut hand into the pocket of her dress in an elaborate show of reaching for the stone.
Her fingers clenched into a tight fist, the pain pounded through her hand and up her arm from the cut.
Her mouth had gone dry as her mind raced, trying to come up with a response.
She had to tell them she didn’t have it.
And when she did, she had to be prepared to face the consequences.
Finally, she brought her hand out of her packet and unfolded her fingers showing her empty palm. “I don’t have it.”
They stared at her in shocked silence, the only sound that of the flickering flames of the torches and the whipping wind.
“She fooled us,” John finally said. “All of us.”
Rory moved toward her, rage creasing his face. When he reached her, he placed the edge of the glowing great axe inches away from her throat.
“Do ye think this is a game? Dinnae think I willna kill ye here, now.”
She swallowed the fear clawing its way to her throat, remaining perfectly still. Her gaze stayed focused on his. “You can kill me,” she said, slowly, quietly, “but then your curse will never be broken nor will you be able to control the keystone.”
“She’s right,” Bruce said. “We need her and her blood.” He moved to stand next to Rory. He placed a hand on his arm and pushed the blade away from her throat. “Where is the stone, lass?”
She smirked, pleased with her decision to give it to Jamie.
“She doesna have to say,” Rory said then. “I ken where it is.”
“Where is it?” John asked.
“With Jamie MacLeod, aye?” Rory said. “Or one of the other two lassies.”
“You leave them out of this,” she snapped.
Ignoring her outburst, Bruce said, “We should have brought them, too, instead of leaving them to rot in the dungeons.”
Brianna winced hearing that. She hated they were imprisoned in their own home. She clenched her jaw and pressed her lips together tighter. Even though he guessed the truth, she didn’t need to confirm it.
“Tie her up. Bring her. And then we will go after the lad and I’ll kill him myself.”
“Nay,” Bruce said. “He will come for her. And then, when he arrives, we will capture him, too.”
Rory smiled a toothy grin. “Aye, ye have the right of it, lad. That’s just what we’ll do.”
Terror prickled the back of her neck, cold and relentless, her hair standing on end.
She wished there was some way to get a message to Jamie, to warn him.
But in his century, there was no such thing as cell phones or text messaging.
She forced herself to breathe, to think.
There had to be a way to warn him. Because if she didn’t find one, then he would never see the danger coming and she might never see him again.