Chapter Nineteen
Rose’s knuckles were red and sore from pounding on the door and her voice hoarse from shouting. How long had it been since Cailean had locked her in here? An hour? Longer? And still nobody answered her shouts.
Cailean had clearly given orders. Bloody infuriating man! How dare he lock her in here? How the hell dare he?
She rested her forehead against the wood, sucking in great heaving breaths. She was furious but her fury was being drowned out by a deeper, stronger emotion.
Fear.
Cailean MacNeil, she knew, was going to do something stupid.
I love ye, Rose MacFinnan.
Those had been the last words he’d spoken to her.
His voice had been muffled by the door between them but she’d heard them all the same.
Every time she thought about it, her breath caught in her throat and her heartbeat ramped up a notch.
She’d been aching to hear those words. Only now did she realize that.
Only now did she realize that she felt exactly the same way about him. That’s what this ache inside was.
She loved Cailean MacNeil.
And now she might never see him again.
She sank down onto the bed and put her head in her hands. Think, Rose, think.
She had no doubt where Cailean had gone. Even now, he’d be riding to Hemkirk. She knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise tomorrow. It was his duty, he would think, to sacrifice himself for his people.
Think, Rose, think.
She had to get out of this room. She had to stop him. If he didn’t come back…
Barra would be left without a leader. Catriona would be left without a father. And she… she would be left without the light that lit the dark corners of her life. She could not do that. It was unacceptable.
Think, Rose. Think.
There was no breaking down the door. The window was too narrow to fit through. So what did that leave her?
Her eyes fell on the fire burning in the hearth. A mad idea came to her. It was risky, desperate. But desperation was all she had.
Grabbing a bit of parchment from where it sat on the small desk, she rolled it then carried it over to the fire, sticking the end into the flames.
It didn’t catch fire but began to smolder, giving off an acrid white smoke.
Blowing gently on it, and shielding it with one hand, she carried the burning ember over to the door and put it down by the crack underneath.
Getting down on hands and knees, she began blowing on it, sending white smoke curling under the door and into the corridor outside.
Next she sprang up and ran to the window. Throwing wide the narrow shutters, she cried, “Fire! Help! Fire!”
People looked up from where they were crossing the bailey and came running. Rose pressed her back against the wall at the side of the door, putting her sleeve over her mouth to keep from inhaling the smoke. She did not have to wait long.
Footsteps pounded in the corridor and she heard the sound of coughing. A moment later, keys jangled in the lock and the door burst open, revealing Mable and a contingent of guards carrying buckets of water.
Rose seized her chance. Shouting a quick apology, she jumped over the burning parchment, pushed past Mable and the guards, and bolted down the corridor. She didn’t stop until she’d reached the stable and then only long enough to bark a command to one of the stable hands to saddle Snip.
By the time she was leading the horse out of the stable and into the courtyard, Mable and the guards had gathered outside and had been joined by Maggie and Beatrice.
Rose ignored them, swinging up onto Snip’s back and pulling the mare around to face the gates.
One of the guards stepped forward, taking hold of Rose’s stirrup. “We canna let ye leave, my lady,” he said. “Laird’s orders.”
“I don’t give a fig for the laird’s orders,” she growled. “So let go, damn it!”
He didn’t. His grip only tightened.
Maggie stepped forward. “Let her go, Tom.”
“But the laird—”
“The laird wasnae in his right mind when he gave that order,” Maggie cut in. “He was weighed down by grief and worry. If ye wish to see yer laird again, ye will let the MacFinnan spellweaver go.”
The man swallowed thickly, looking from Maggie to Rose and back again. He nodded, releasing her stirrup and stepping back.
Maggie looked up at Rose. “Bring him back to us,” she said hoarsely. “Bring both of ye back to us. We need ye.”
Rose nodded tightly. “I’ll do everything in my power,” she said, knowing it wouldn’t be enough.
“Then may the gods go with ye,” Maggie said.
“And may Christ protect ye,” Beatrice added, making the sign of the cross.
Rose nodded to the two women. Then, before she could lose her courage, she set her heels to Snip’s flanks.
“Yah!”
She sent the mare galloping out of the gates.
Her hair streaming out behind her, she crouched low over the horse’s withers, urging all the speed she could from the mare.
Urgency bit at her heels. Gripping the reins tighter, she bared her teeth in a savage snarl.
She would get there in time. She would save him. She was a MacFinnan spellweaver.
It was time to discover what that really meant.
*
Cailean stood on the beach, the abandoned village of Hemkirk behind him, gazing out at the waves. There was no evidence of the stormlights now and the bay looked serene, peaceful. Nobody would believe that something so evil lurked beneath the waves.
And yet Cailean knew it was there.
He could feel it. Something… off in the caress of the breeze and the whisper of the waves, like a faint carrion stink almost beyond the range of his senses. Now that he knew it was there, it was impossible to miss, and he wondered why he hadn’t spotted it before.
Because you didn’t have Rose MacFinnan at your side before, he told himself.
He jerked his thoughts away from her. He couldn’t afford to think about her, not now. Not if he wanted to find the courage to do what he’d come here to do.
Slowly, methodically, almost making a ritual of it, he stripped off his weapons, his boots, his plaid, until he was left in just the linen shirt that fell to mid-thigh.
He dropped his clothes onto the damp sand, knowing he’d never need them again.
Bending, he retrieved his dagger, took it from its sheath, and clamped it between his teeth.
It was the only thing he was going to need.
Then, clenching his fists and screwing up his courage, he strode down to the water’s edge and waded in. The water was cold enough to steal his breath, but he didn’t falter as he walked first to waist-high, then chest-high, until finally he felt his feet go out from under him and he began to swim.
To his left was the headland where Rose had almost thrown herself into the water. He kept parallel to this as he swam with sure, powerful strokes out towards the spot where she’d heard the god’s voice speaking to her.
Now that he was moving, all his doubts, all his fear vanished, to be replaced by a cold, hard determination.
Everyone had their fate after all, and this was his.
He’d always known he might have to give his life for his clan.
He had thought that would be in battle against raiders or at sea fighting pirates, but the how didn’t matter.
He was the laird. This was what he was born for.
He reached the rough location of where Rose had seen the stormlights and stopped, treading water and looking around. A few seals bobbed nearby, watching him curiously with their dog-like faces, and a few gulls screamed at him, unhappy with his intrusion. Other than that, all seemed normal.
Except it didn’t feel normal.
That sense of wrongness had increased and now he could feel it brushing against his skin like an ink stain blighting the waves.
Who are you?
The voice flowered in his head with enough force to make him gasp. He almost dropped the knife but clamped his teeth down at the last minute.
I’m Cailean MacNeil, he thought back. And I’m here to stop you.
There was silence for a long time but that sense of wrongness intensified and now Cailean could feel it pulsing through his body like heat from a bonfire. It felt like… anger. Fury.
You are one of them, the voice said. The betrayers. The ones who took my love from me.
I took nothing, Cailean replied. And yet you have taken much from me. My people. My friends. You will not have my daughter.
Soft laughter. And how will you stop me?
Cailean clamped his teeth down on the dagger and dived. Beneath the waves he entered a strange world of twisting kelp and dappled sunlight. The seals, intrigued by his presence, swam closer, their liquid eyes full of curiosity. He ignored them.
Some twenty feet below him lay the seabed, covered with rounded boulders, waving kelp, and beds of sea grass. But his eyes were immediately drawn to something else. Flickering lights in pearlescent blue and green shimmered across the seabed, like the lights seen in the northern sky in winter.
Stormlights.
They were enchantingly beautiful, flashing in a myriad of hues like a butterfly’s wing. He found himself watching them, unable to look away. He began to understand how Rose had been so mesmerized the other day.
Soft laughter again. It seemed to echo from all around him. You are stronger than most. There aren’t many who can resist. It will be interesting to destroy you.
Cailean ignored the voice. Instead, his eyes scanned the sea floor. There! Amidst the waving kelp he spotted something, a crack that split the seabed. It branched and twisted like a jagged piece of lightning, and it was from this crack that the stormlight was spilling.
The god’s prison.
Lungs screaming for air, Cailen took the knife from between his teeth and clasped it in one hand.
Blood magic was needed, Maggie had told him.
A sacrifice. Well, so be it. He was descended from the people who first worshipped the goddess.
He had to hope that connection would be enough.
That his blood would be enough. He had nothing else.