Chapter 14 #3
Mairwen nodded, then offered a conciliatory smile.
“I understand yer feelings, Divine One.” She arched a brow at Magnus, then continued, “And rest assured that yer foundation has been fully restored and will see to their continued care. We have also identified ways to expand that care into opportunities for additional deserving families. A verra trustworthy watcher has been chosen to ensure its continued success and growth.”
Lyla didn’t miss how Mairwen kept the focus of the conversation on the positivity of the foundation rather than the negativity of her and Keeva’s deception. She wished she hadn’t sent away her coffee. “What is a watcher?”
“In this case,” Keeva said, “a gnome able to shapeshift into the form of a human to blend in.” She gave a knowing nod.
“Gnomes love money. Henry will not fail ye.” Bobbing her head faster, she excitedly scooted to the edge of her chair.
“And he hates a cheat worse than anything. He’ll take fine care of yer people and make ye proud. ”
“Will Rurik’s scale let me look in on them from time to time?” Lyla asked Magnus.
With a caring squeeze of her hand, he nodded. “Aye, my love. I feel sure it will.”
“We brought ye more musical instruments,” Mairwen said, sounding like an adult trying to bribe a fussy toddler with a new toy. “Ye will need them.”
“To bring down Kcirred?” Lyla wondered what other instruments the pair of Weavers had brought and why they believed she should think that particularly beneficial.
The guitar, flute, and violin had served her well enough so far.
“What are you not saying?” She sensed a hesitancy among them, an unmistakable leeriness.
“The goddess swore Kcirred had no powerful allies,” Mairwen said, “but we feel that opinion is flawed.”
“Then who are his allies?” Magnus wrapped an arm around Lyla and pulled her closer, shielding her.
“We believe Dubh a’Ghiuthais has risen from the abyss.” Mairwen squinted as though bracing herself.
“Nothing rises from the abyss.” Magnus jumped up, strode to the windows, and scowled at the landscape, sweeping a hard gaze back and forth. He cast a glance back at them. “The beast of the charred forests was imprisoned there long ago. She canna have risen.”
“Who is this she?” Lyla asked, not even attempting to say the difficult-to-pronounce name.
“An ancient, bloodthirsty Norwegian princess from yer plane of existence,” Magnus said.
“A witch transformed her into a great white bird to fly over every Scotland of every realm and set fire to their woods to bring down their magic and the strength of their peoples. As she flew through the inferno, the thick pine smoke from the burning trees stained her feathers the blackest black. ’Tis why she was named Dubh a’Ghiuthais, meaning ‘of the black firs’.
The vile beast was indestructible to anyone who it saw first. Only a warrior who spied the evil creature before it noticed them had any hope of bringing it down.
The legends say yer time’s Saint Gilbert, the Bishop of Caithness, felled it with a magical arrow, and that they buried the vile being beneath the Beast’s Stone, but the Thirteenth Realm’s mighty Draig traveled to yer reality to battle the wicked princess since her behavior slandered the honor of the dragons.
He captured her and cast her into the abyss. ”
That she-devil sounded hideous. Lyla hugged her knees to her chest. “Why do you believe she’s escaped the abyss?” she asked Mairwen.
“Our watchers standing guard on this side of the Seven Cairns portal believe they saw the shadows of her hideous form through the mists of the poison walls surrounding Thornpitch.” After a glance at the windows, Mairwen’s expression turned pained.
“It would explain the power of Kcirred's curse that gripped the land before ye arrived. When the witch transformed the princess, ’tis said that she and the princess became one, not only turning into the mighty beast but evolving into an invincible sorceress.”
“But my music will bring her down along with Kcirred—right?” Lyla looked from Mairwen to Keeva, then back at Mairwen when neither of them answered. “Well? Will it? It broke the curse.”
“We have no way of knowing for certain,” Mairwen said. “The goddesses have yet to answer my call so that I might consult them.”
Magnus turned from the windows with a snorting growl. “The goddesses are as bad as the Fae. They care for naught but themselves or their own interests.”
“Ye must not speak so!” Keeva waved her hands, shushing them all while casting a worried glance all around. “They will hear. They always hear.”
“And yet they remain silent,” Lyla said, becoming more agitated by the minute, “while moving us around like pawns on a chess board. I agree with Magnus. All they care about are their own self-interests.” She pointed at Mairwen and Keeva.
“And you can’t claim to be any different.
You claimed to want me to find my fated mate—but not to help me—you did it to bolster the Highland Veil.
No wonder so many resent you. It’s all well and good to have a cause, but it’s not right to manipulate others to further that cause. ”
“Our cause, as ye so glibly put it, is for the protection of all,” Mairwen said, her brilliant blue eyes snapping. “We have sacrificed much. Dinna judge that which ye know so little about.”
“Mairwen lost her only son because she battled for the good of all, and when an immortal is destroyed, it is neither quick nor is it painless.” Keeva fisted her hands on the arms of the chair, thumping them as she spoke.
“Evil took everything from her that she ever held dear, but she fights on because she knows she must.”
Mairwen lifted her hand. “Keeva! Enough.” She leveled a stern glare at her assistant. “All have made sacrifices. It serves no greater good to speak of mine.”
A wave of guilt washed across Lyla. Maybe she had judged the Weavers a little too harshly—but that still didn’t change the fact that they’d purposely deceived her to further their own agenda.
Of course, in the process, they’d put her on the path of feeling more whole, more complete, and more contented than she’d ever thought possible.
She’d never held out much hope for such a level of happiness, and now—she pulled in a deep breath and hugged herself—now she had something she hadn’t had in a very long while: hope.
The deep breath left her in a heavy sigh.
“My love?” Worry emanating from him, Magnus returned to her side. “What is it?” Seating himself back beside her, he took her hand in his while checking her forehead for fever. “We are overtaxing ye.”
She tried to smile his worries away. “No, I just need more coffee.”
“At once, Divine One.” Albionna flew from the room.
Mairwen rose from her seat, then offered Magnus a respectful bow. “With yer permission, chief—may I draw closer so I might look into the Divine One’s eyes and attempt to identify what troubles her?”
“Could we please not talk about me as if I’m a pedigreed pet or something, and ask me, not him? Okay?” Lyla motioned for Mairwen to come toward her.
Magnus snorted and remained at her side, his arm curled around her. “Ye may do so, Weaver.”
Lyla rolled her eyes, then held out a hand to Mairwen.
With a wry smile, the white-haired matron leaned over Lyla’s palm while running an arthritic finger along its creases.
Lyla clenched her teeth to keep from jerking away because it tickled. “Are you reading my fortune?”
“Ye have a blood oath with a powerful dragon.” Mairwen leaned even closer still and peered into her eyes.
After what felt like forever, she slowly nodded, seeming satisfied.
“Some are particularly sensitive to traveling through the portals to other times and realities. The change jarred yer sensibilities. Disturbed the delicate balance of yer magic. Then yer magic was strained when ye fully unleashed it to break the curse.” She stepped back and folded her hands in front of her.
“But it pleases me that it is not a result of evil spellwork. Dubh a’Ghiuthais did not cause this ailment, and the longer ye remain here, the more ye will improve. ”
“Thank the mighty Draig.” Magnus gathered her to his chest and held her.
Lyla hugged him tight, then lifted her head and locked eyes with him. “Now you can stop worrying, and we can concentrate on cleaning house.”
“Cleaning house?”
“It’s time to evacuate the pests out of Thornpitch and turn it into a peaceful rose garden.”
Magnus made a face and opened his mouth to say something Lyla knew she wouldn’t like, but Mairwen cleared her throat and stopped him. “There is one other thing ye should know.”
Lyla braced herself. Something about the Weaver’s tone and the gleam in her eye made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “What?”
“Ye are with child.”
Lyla stared at her. “That’s impossible.”
Mairwen arched a brow and remained silent.
“Well, okay, it’s possible, but highly unlikely.
I mean…it was just the one time.” This couldn’t be happening.
Lyla shook her head, pushing away the words with both hands.
“It was just the one time,” she repeated weakly.
“And it’s entirely too early for you to even tell.
” The Weaver was wrong. This had to be yet another ploy to manipulate the situation, but to what end, Lyla couldn’t imagine.
Magnus stood and stepped between her and Mairwen. “This audience is over. Ye may see yerselves out. Now.”