Chapter Fifteen #2
Then he saw it. To his left, a faint glow flickered between the trunks, soft at first, almost uncertain.
Camden slowed the horse, squinting into the forest, hoping to see what caused the light.
The light dimmed, then swelled brighter, swaying gently as though carried by an unseen hand. Like a lantern moving forward and back.
Strange for anyone to be wandering the forest so late. Perhaps someone searching for a lost soul. Or a dog gone astray.
Camden was about to urge the horse onward when the glow suddenly flared, so bright it forced him to shield his eyes. The forest around him vanished in a wash of white brilliance.
And then he saw it.
A tall standing stone loomed among the trees, split clean down its center as though struck by some ancient force. From the opening poured the most radiant light he had ever seen. Pure. Luminous. Breathtakingly beautiful. It cast long, trembling shadows across the forest floor.
“What in the Lord’s name is that?” Camden asked out loud.
Camden’s heart hammered as he swung down from the saddle, boots sinking soundlessly into the forest floor. The horse shifted uneasily behind him, snorting low, but Camden murmured a calming word and stepped away, drawn forward despite every sensible warning whispering in his mind.
With each step closer, the air changed.
It grew warmer, humming faintly, as though the light itself breathed.
The scent of moss and earth gave way to something sweeter, like wildflowers after rain, crushed herbs, and a hint of summer carried on a breeze that didnae touch the surrounding trees.
The stone seemed to pulse, the glow brightening in slow, deliberate waves.
Then the feeling came.
Not a voice. Not words.
A knowing.
The light wrapped around him, slipping beneath his skin, tugging at something deep in his chest. His breath caught as understanding bloomed unbidden in his mind. The stone was waiting. Inviting.
Speak yer desire. Tell me yer wish.
The thought settled fully formed, heavy with promise. His deepest longing rose without permission, unspoken, undeniable. A life not spent alone. A heart no longer guarded. A future that held more than duty and quiet nights alone.
Camden took another step forward. Then stopped.
Cold fear cut through the warmth.
Wishes came with prices. He knew that as surely as he knew the forest paths and the healing properties of every herb he gathered. Magic never gave without taking, and whatever force lived within that stone was far older and far more powerful than any human was.
“No,” he breathed, the word steady despite the ache in his chest.
The pull intensified, urgent now, almost pleading. The light flared brighter, as if angered by his refusal.
Camden backed away, one careful step at a time, not breaking eye contact with the stone. The moment he turned, the warmth faded, the hum dissolving into the cool night air. By the time he reached his horse, the forest sounds slowly returned, cautious and tentative.
He mounted quickly, unease prickling his skin.
Without looking back, Camden urged the horse into motion, the path unfolding before them as though nothing had happened at all. Behind him, the glow dimmed, swallowed once more by shadow and moonlight.
But the sensation lingered. The certainty that the stone was not finished with him.
*
“Camden.”
“Camden.”
Brae’s voice dragged through Camden’s sleep like a stone across glass, jarring and unwelcome. He woke slowly, the weight of too few hours clinging to his limbs. Bright sunlight broke through the window, far too bold for the state of his head, forcing his eyes into a squint. Late morning already.
He groaned inwardly. When he’d headed home earlier, the sun had only just begun cresting the horizon. Four hours of sleep, if that. Not enough to soothe aching muscles or the dull throb behind his eyes.
“What is it?” The words came rough and sharp, irritation curling through them before he could temper them.
“I tried to dissuade the woman and talk her into returning later, but she insisted ye would wish to see her now.” Brae glanced over his shoulder, voice lowered as if secrecy might soften the intrusion. “I didnae notice any injuries.”
Of course there were none. Camden exhaled slowly through his nose, temper simmering beneath the fog of fatigue. Someone’s curiosity or imagined ailment had dragged him from the only rest he’d managed in the last few days.
Deciding the sooner he saw her, the sooner he could crawl back into bed, Camden pushed himself upright.
The floor was cold beneath his bare feet.
He dressed as quickly as possible, every motion sluggish, and splashed water onto his face from the basin.
The chill shocked his skin, but did little to clear the fog in his head.
His hair fell forward, damp strands clinging to his brow as he leaned over the bowl. He let it be. Combing it felt like an effort beyond reason.
Sleep clung stubbornly to the edges of his awareness as he crossed into the apothecary. The familiar scents of herbs and dried roots hung in the air, grounding him, until he saw who the woman was, then every thought vanished.
The drowsiness evaporated in an instant.
Eara stood before the shelves, sunlight catching in the glass jars that surrounded her, their contents glowing in muted greens and golds. Unaware of his presence, she lifted one and removed the lid, bringing it to her nose with quiet curiosity.
“Eara. What are ye doing here?”
His voice cut through the room.
She startled violently, the jar slipping from her grasp. It struck the floor and shattered into a multitude of jagged fragments. The sharp crack echoed. Camden didn’t so much as flinch.
Eara jumped aside, skirts swaying as she avoided the shards.
“C-Camden. Ye startled me.” She lifted her gaze to his.
Over the years, he had imagined this moment more times than he cared to admit.
In some versions he unleashed carefully honed words, each sharp enough to wound as deeply as she once had.
In others, he dismissed her with cool indifference, showing her she no longer mattered.
His speeches crafted in sleepless hours were rehearsed meticulously over time.
Now, standing before her, every one of those words dissolved like mist. No words came.
Instead, there was only an odd hollowness inside him, as though something that once occupied his chest had long ago drained away and never returned. No anger. No ache. No lingering longing. Just absence.
He almost laughed at the absurdity of it. This moment he’d once believed would shake him to his core… and all he wanted was sleep.
Eara shifted under his silence, fingers fidgeting as her gaze searched his face.
“How have ye been?” she asked, unease threading through her voice.
“Ye didn’t answer my question.” Camden’s tone came flat, stripped of warmth or hostility alike. “Why are ye here?”
It was not cruelty that shaped the words. Only honest curiosity and the lingering wish that whatever answer she gave might be brief enough to let him return to sleep.
Eara glanced down at the shattered glass at her feet, as though the scattered fragments might help her gather her composure.
“I… my husband and I have returned to Tokavaig. To live.” Her fingers twisted together, wringing one another. “I felt it important ye hear it from me as soon as possible.”
This time Camden did laugh, but the sound was harsh and brittle, stripped of all humor.
“I see. Ye came straightaway then. The morning after dancing in the village square so the entire village could witness yer return?”
Contrition flickered across her pretty face before settling into a chagrined expression. She drew in a slow breath.
“I was wrong to leave as I did. I should have spoken to ye before going. I am deeply sorry for that. Ye must understand… it was nae easy.”
His jaw tightened until the muscles throbbed.
“Should I feel sympathy, then?” he asked quietly. “That abandoning me without explanation proved difficult for ye?”
She faltered beneath his gaze, her confidence wavering. Then, as she had always done when faced with discomfort, she changed the subject.
“Ye look well,” she said softly, her eyes moving over him. “I dinnae recall ye being so tall… or so broad.”
Camden nearly sighed.
The redirection didnae surprise him. It was her way. To sidestep, soften, pretend the wound didnae exist. She had not come here seeking forgiveness. Nor closure.
So why had she come?
“If ye have nothing of substance to say,” he replied, his voice cool as winter stone, gesturing toward the door, “then I must ask ye to leave.”
She didnae move.
Instead, she stepped closer, closing the space between them as though proximity alone might bend him to her will.
“I made a mistake. A terrible one. I should never have left.” Her voice wavered, threaded with urgency. “I have nae been happy, Camden. I have missed ye terribly.”
He stared at her, momentarily stunned. Of all the things he expected, this had not been among them. Did she truly believe he would simply welcome her back? The audacity, the arrogance of the woman struck him harder than anger ever could.
“Please leave.”
Ignoring him, she lifted her hand and cupped his jaw, her touch intimate, familiar. “Ye have nae married,” she murmured. “I asked. They told me ye have nae even courted. I am the reason, Camden. Ye have been waiting for me. I am flattered.”
For a heartbeat, satisfaction glimmered in her eyes when he caught her wrist, only to fade when he removed her hand and let it drop away.
“What I do with my life concerns ye not.” His gaze shifted deliberately to the doorway. “Return to yer husband.”
A brisk knock interrupted them, and the door opened before either could respond.
Moyra stood framed in the entryway.