Chapter Nineteen
Jenna groaned as she opened her eyes. Her head was thumping something fierce and her eyes felt grainy. Drinking whisky last night had seemed a good idea at the time. Now? Not so much.
As she sat up and swung her legs out of bed, she wondered if anyone else in the keep was feeling as bad as she was.
Probably not. They were all used to whisky and besides, she doubted any of them had been drinking to forget the way she had.
Drinking to forget that she was a zillion miles from home.
Drinking to forget the mess that was waiting for her when she returned to that home.
But most of all, drinking to forget the longing she felt for a certain corn-haired laird and what had happened between them in the cemetery last night.
She’d been so close to the edge. So close to taking that last step and falling, falling, falling. Into him. She’d only just pulled herself back from that cliff edge.
It’s for the best, she told herself. Nothing good would come of it.
She put her hand to her throbbing head. Ugh.
Her tongue felt furry, and she was pretty sure her breath was strong enough to stun a horse.
With a groan, she stood, tottered over to the pottery basin, and poured in some cold water from the jug that stood on the side table.
Without further ado, she dunked her head in.
The water was freezing, and she would have gasped if she didn’t have her mouth underwater.
It did help to clear her head a little though, for which she was profoundly grateful.
She raised her head and began her morning ablutions—washing her face, scrubbing her teeth, and then brushing her damp hair.
Ingrid didn’t come in to help like she usually would, but Jenna didn’t begrudge the maid for taking a little time off.
The last she’d seen of Ingrid, she’d been leaving the great hall hand in hand with Robbie, the pair of them seemingly oblivious to anything else around them.
A small spike of envy pricked Jenna’s stomach.
It was all so straightforward for Ingrid.
She loved Robbie so she would marry him. That’s all there was to it.
Why couldn’t Jenna’s own life be so simple?
Moving carefully to avoid making her head pound, Jenna washed and dressed and then left her room and made her way to the great hall.
When she entered the cavernous room, she saw that it had already been cleared and cleaned following last night’s celebrations.
It was quiet too, with only a few people in attendance, and they sat quietly, sipping from cups and eating porridge.
Jenna wondered if they were nursing heads as thick as hers.
Arran was already in the great hall, sitting at the place of honor at the high table. Rosaline sat next to him, looking a little more disheveled than usual.
As she stepped across the threshold, Arran’s gaze sprang to her and she felt that familiar warmth coil in her belly. Why did he have to look at her like that? Didn’t he realize that this was hard enough for her already?
“Good morning,” she mumbled as she joined them at the high table.
“Is it?” Rosaline groaned. “Feels like a pretty terrible morning to me.”
Jenna gave her a sympathetic smile, and Arran said nothing as Jenna took a seat. She was sure she could see a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes though. Clearly he didn’t have a hangover.
Jenna pulled over a basket of bannocks and began nibbling on the corner of one.
She wasn’t sure her stomach could handle anything more—certainly not the porridge, sausages, or boiled eggs that lay in platters on the table.
She ate in silence, staring at her plate, but looked up when the door suddenly burst open.
Brother Merrick came hurrying in. His habit flapped around his knees as he rushed over. He was holding a stack of books under one arm and he looked, Jenna thought, a little flustered.
“I’ve found something, my lord!” he blurted. “Ye need to take a look at this!”
Any amusement at Jenna and Rosaline’s condition vanished from Arran’s expression and he scraped back his chair and stood.
“Come with me.”
Jenna stuffed the last bit of bannock into her mouth, muttered an apology to Rosaline, and followed as the two men strode off. Arran glanced at her as she caught up with them, and nodded.
“Find Mal and Edrick,” Arran snapped at a servant as they strode through the keep. “Tell them to meet me in my study immediately.” The servant nodded and dashed off.
Once they’d reached Arran’s study, he gestured to the empty chairs around the table.
Jenna sank into hers gratefully, wondering what exactly was going on.
Arran was all focused and alert, like he was when he thought danger was near, and Brother Merrick looked apprehensive as he dropped into a chair and laid the books he’d brought with him on the table.
Jenna bit her lip. Mal and Edrick arrived only moments later, both panting as though they’d run all the way here.
“What is it?” Mal demanded. “Dougie said to come straight away. It isnae another attack, is it?”
“Sit down, both of ye,” Arran said. “And listen. Brother Merrick has something he wishes to share with us.”
The two men exchanged glances and then lowered themselves into chairs.
Arran clasped his hands together on the table and leaned forward. His piercing gaze fixed on the monk. “Well? What have ye found?”
Brother Merrick swallowed thickly. “I did as ye asked,” he said. “I’ve scoured everything we have in the library that pertains to Norse settlements or stories about the area ye marked on the map.”
He nodded to the table, and Jenna realized that a map was spread out on it. The map showed the whole of Skye, and there were markers placed all around the island except for an area in the southeast.
“At first I didnae find aught and I thought this might all be a wild goose chase,” Brother Merrick continued. “But this morning I thought I might look at the land records again—after all, that’s where I found our last clue, isnae it?”
Arran’s jaw clenched and Jenna could tell he was working hard to keep his patience with the monk’s roundabout way of explaining things. “And what did ye find?”
Brother Merrick took a scroll from the pile and rolled it out. He leaned forward, running his finger down the parchment until he found the spot he was looking for. “Ah ha! Here it is!” He tapped the scroll then turned it around and offered it to Arran, pointing at the spot.
Jenna leaned forward, squinting. It was a map. She couldn’t see anything particularly special about the spot he indicated, just a small bay on the southeast coast.
Arran frowned. “What exactly are we looking at?”
“It’s not marked on the map anymore because when the Norse were chased out of Skye several hundred years ago and the MacFinnan magic placed to keep them out, it was destroyed. Or so everyone thought.”
“What was destroyed?”
Brother Merrick grinned and unrolled another parchment on the table, laying it flat next to the map.
“This is a land grant from around the same time the MacFinnan magic was first constructed. It talks about several settlements in the area we’re interested in, but most of them were abandoned.
There’s one, though, that’s of particular interest to us. Here. Nordve.”
Jenna sat back. As Brother Merrick said the word, a strange feeling went through her, a cold shiver, as though somebody had stepped over her grave.
“I am supposed to recognize that?” Arran said, impatience clear in his voice.
“Ve is the Norse word for shrine,” Merrick said, practically bouncing in his seat in excitement. “So put this word together with the name Njord and what do ye get?”
“Njord’s shrine,” Arran breathed, eyes widening in realization.
“Aye! And the land grand lists where it is.” He pointed at an empty spot on the map. “It isnae marked, but it’s around here.”
The cold Jenna had felt as Merrick pronounced the name hadn’t left her.
In fact, it was growing stronger. “That’s it,” she said suddenly, looking up at Arran.
“That’s what the raiders have been looking for.
And I’ll bet my last penny that it’s this shrine that’s been preventing me from fixing the magic. ”
Arran nodded. “Then if we can find this shrine and destroy it—”
“There will be nothing to keep me from fixing the magic,” Jenna finished for him.
She should have felt elated. At last! Finally, a breakthrough! At last she would be able to do what she’d come here to do and go home. Yes, she should have felt elated. But as she stared into Arran’s bottomless eyes, all she felt was a creeping sense of dread.
Arran’s face was a carefully controlled mask as he nodded. “Why are the raiders looking for this shrine?”
“Same reason we are at a guess,” Jenna replied. “Only for opposite reasons. We want to resurrect Skye’s magic; they want to stop us.”
Brother Merrick ran one hand down his face.
“It’s more than that, I reckon. After all, the raids started before ye arrived here, Lady Jenna.
Centuries ago, Skye lay under the dominion of the Norse lords.
What if Njord was the god they worshipped?
What if that god was ousted when the MacFinnan spellweavers worked their magic? ”
“And now the magic is broken, they want Skye back,” Jenna breathed. “They mean to resurrect Njord’s power.”
Arran looked between Merrick and Jenna. “And from yer expressions I’m guessing that’s bad.”
Jenna swallowed and nodded. “Arran, if Njord’s magic is revived, it will give him complete control over Skye. There would be nothing you could do to stop him and his people from taking your island from you.”
A snarl curled Arran’s lips. “Over my dead body. We’ll destroy this shrine before they ever find it. We’ll ride out immediately to look for it. If we—”