Chapter Twenty
The world returned to Elise in jarring pieces. An incessant pounding ache behind her eyes, the feel of something hard beneath her cheek, the smell of smoke and damp. What the—? Then everything came flooding back to her in a rush.
Her eyes flew open and she jolted upright, pressing her hand to her head with a groan.
The world swam before her eyes, but she found herself sitting on the floor of a dimly lit chamber.
The windows were shuttered, blocking most of the afternoon light.
A single lantern burned on a nearby shelf, giving the only illumination.
And leaning against the table, arms folded, was Phillip MacClelland.
“Finally,” he said mildly. “Ye took long enough.”
“You!” Elise spat. She tried to surge to her feet, but her legs buckled, dumping her back onto the floor. She groaned, pressing the heels of her hands against her forehead. “Where am I?”
“Home,” Phillip said. “Islay. Though under new leadership since ye were last here.”
She scooted backwards until she felt the wall press against her back. Her magic skittered under her skin—shaken and frantic but for the moment out of reach.
“You kidnapped me,” she snapped, glaring up at Phillip.
“I retrieved ye,” he corrected. “Which I wouldnae have had to do if ye and Jamie had behaved as ye should.”
She had hazy memories of the “attack” on Dun Mallach. Of those king’s men surrounding her, of Rose and Jenna shouting her name.
“What happened?” she asked. “Where are my sister and niece?”
An expression of distaste crossed Phillip’s features.
“Those two? Fierce as wildcats, the pair of them. From the way they fought to stop us taking ye, anyone would think they were the War Weavers. But I sent three groups of the king’s most elite warriors for a reason.
In the end, they were won free with my prize. ” His gaze sharpened on Elise. “Ye.”
Elise bared her teeth in a snarl. “If you’ve hurt them, I swear I’ll—”
“Ye’ll what? Kill me? Forgive me if I dinna weep in terror. Yer sister and niece were left behind on Barra and I neither know nor care for their fate. And besides, none of this would have happened had ye and Jamie not fled there like two curs with their tails between their legs.”
“We wouldn’t have had to run at all if you hadn’t betrayed us!” Elise yelled. Her fingers itched to land a punch into his smug face.
“Betrayed? Hardly. My loyalty has always been to the Kingdom of the Isles. Everything I’ve ever done has been in my people’s best interests.”
“Oh, I see,” she snapped, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “My mistake. And here’s me thinking you’re just a power-hungry, back-stabbing Judas!”
A flicker of annoyance passed over his features. “I’m nothing of the sort. I’m a pragmatist. The Kingdom of the Isles stands between two powerful neighbors. Sooner or later it will be crushed between them. Better to broker a peaceful alliance with one of them, dinna ye think?”
“And don’t you think it’s up to the people of the Isles to decide what they want?”
Phillip shook his head. “Ye are as stubborn as Jamie, ye know that?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She met his eyes. Cold, calculating blue. No warmth. No remorse. “You know Jamie will come for me.”
“Oh, I know,” Phillip said softly. “In fact, I’m counting on it.
He’s been integral to my plans from the start.
A pity he turned out to be so stubborn. A pity he had his head turned by a woman from the future he can never have.
All this would have been so much easier if he’d just signed that damned marriage contract. ”
Her chest tightened. Jamie. What would happen when he returned to Dun Mallach and found her missing? What if he thought she was dead?
“What do you want with me?”
Phillip crossed the chamber and crouched so their eyes were level. “I want what I have always wanted,” he said quietly. “Stability. Order. A future for our people. War is coming. Ulster threatens invasion. But now we have the weapon we need to keep them at bay.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, I think ye know. I didnae recognize what ye were at first. I thought ye just another spellweaver like yer sister and niece. But after ye blasted the king’s ships that day out on the water?
Well, I began to suspect then. The shield you cast on Barra?
Remarkable. Crude, untutored—but powerful.
With ye by our side, Ulster willnae stand a chance. ”
“You’re crazy,” she snapped. “I’ll never help you.”
Phillip gave a long, weary sigh, as though she were being painfully naive. “I hoped ye wouldnae force this ugliness, Elise. Truly.”
He rose and crossed to the window shutters, pushing one open. Gray daylight slashed across the room. Then he pulled her roughly to her feet and dragged her over to the window. She was back in Dun Arach, in a tower room by the looks of it. The courtyard lay below her window.
People were lined up there. Or, more accurately, prisoners were lined up there. Elise recognized Jamie’s men, Albie among them. They were bound, bruised, shoved to their knees by Phillip’s guards. At least a dozen. Maybe more.
Elise’s heart lurched. “What have you done to them?”
“Nothing,” Phillip replied. “Yet.” He rested a hand lightly on the shutter, almost contemplative. “But if ye refuse to help…” He shrugged. “Those men will pay the price.”
“You bastard,” she hissed. “Those are innocent men.”
“They are prisoners of war,” Phillip replied. “But ye dinna have to be responsible for their deaths as long as ye cooperate.”
Elise squeezed her eyes shut. This was a nightmare. How had it come to this?
Phillip’s voice softened. “Elise, this doesnae have to be painful. Ye could do so much good. Think of yer power—truly think of it. A War Weaver could save hundreds, perhaps thousands, from the coming war.”
She opened her eyes. “Don’t you dare pretend this is noble,” she hissed. “You betrayed Jamie. Betrayed your own people. And you want me to help you? Help the king subjugate the Isles?”
Phillip’s expression hardened. “I want ye to help stop a war. The Isles are already lost—they just dinna know it yet. Jamie is clinging to old loyalties and childish dreams of defiance.”
Her teeth clenched. “You underestimate him.”
“No.” Phillip’s eyes were cold. “I understand him perfectly. But understanding doesnae change reality.”
She barked a laugh—brittle, disbelieving. “Even if I agree to help you, I can’t. I can’t control it. Half the time it doesn’t even work.”
“Because ye havenae been taught properly.”
He walked past and picked up a satchel from the floor beside the door and tossed it over.
Elise glanced from it to Phillip and back again. “What is this?”
“Take a look.”
Elise opened the satchel. It was filled with books. There were at least half a dozen thick volumes bound in leather and even more rolled scrolls tied carefully with red ribbon.
“I know ye found these in my study,” Phillip said, “despite my efforts to hide them. That is everything I’ve been able to uncover over the years concerning MacFinnan spellweavers.” His gaze sharpened. “Including War Weaving.”
War Weaving? Did one of these books hold the secret to unlocking her powers?
She looked up at him. “Where did you get all this?”
“Under King James’s patronage, I was finally able to indulge my passion for the esoteric without fear of retribution.
” Absently, he ran one hand over the burn scar down his face.
“Through my studies I mastered powers that have mostly been forgotten, powers the like of which I’d never imagined.
Yet, I’m not arrogant enough to think that I hold real power.
I know a few tricks but the real power lies with those born to it. To the MacFinnan spellweavers.”
He reached into the satchel and pulled out a thick book. Its cover bore the symbol of a knot: three interlocking spirals made of thread.
He held the book towards her. “Yer ancestors were artisans of battle. They were strategists, generals, protectors. Ye are like them. Ye are powerful, Elise. But undisciplined. Untrained. With guidance, ye could be truly formidable.”
“Guided by you, you mean?”
“Who better? I’ve dedicated my life to this knowledge. I can give ye mastery over yer power. No more losing control. No more unpredictable surges. Ye could shape shields that span armies. Weapons to unmake magic itself.”
She would love to finally learn to control her power. To finally understand her purpose. To live up to the mighty legacy of the MacFinnan spellweavers.
But not at any cost.
“You think I’d help you terrorize the Isles? You’re crazy.”
He didn’t flinch. “I want ye to save the Isles. Ye care about innocent people, do ye not? Those are the people who will be slaughtered when Ulster comes to call.” In a lower, more dangerous tone, he added, “And ye care about Jamie’s men who will die here, today, if ye refuse me.”
He nodded towards the courtyard, and Elise’s stomach twisted with dread. “Only cowards threaten innocent people.”
“Only cowards refuse to take power when it’s offered to them,” he countered. “Let me teach ye. Let me help ye. And let ye help others in turn. What else is yer magic for if not for that?”
She had to hand it to him—he knew exactly the right things to say to get to her.
His words were smooth and persuasive. All she’d ever wanted to do was use her magic to help others.
Learning War Weaving would make her strong enough to protect people.
Strong enough to protect Jamie and those she loved.
But learning it from him? She was not the gullible fool he seemed to think she was. He would help her, would he? Sure. Just as long as she did exactly what he and his puppet-master wanted. Just as long as she became their pet monster, murdering their enemies and bringing them power.
“I won’t be your weapon,” she said.