Chapter One
Craig Durness
Northeast Highlands of Scotland
Callum Mountainsong, banished Fae prince of the mighty Seelie, stood in the open doorway of Craig Durness’s meeting hall, scrutinizing those taking advantage of the braw, sunny day the Highlands had seen fit to give them.
No matter how many centuries his mystical brethren successfully hid in plain sight among the unsuspecting mortals, he still felt it his duty to ensure they didn’t allow their glamours to slip and reveal their true forms. The task of wiping a mortal’s memories of what they accidentally witnessed was a messy business none of them enjoyed.
It was far better to avoid creating the memory in the first place.
However, in truth, he and his brethren sometimes purposely revealed themselves to a special few, those born with the blood of the old believers still whispering in their veins.
Sadly, those mortals had become fewer, especially now in the twenty-first century.
Magic and its believers had been relegated to myths and legends found in books—or this time’s other forms of entertainment: videos, movies, and social media.
He snorted and resettled his stance. Those things called movies and videos on the internet almost always left a bad taste in his mouth. They got so much wrong. He often wondered if that was the work of the gods and goddesses, suppressing the truth about the magic in any way they could.
“Stop glowering. Ye’ll scare the tourists we’ve worked so hard to lure here.”
His mood immediately brightened.
“Morganna.” He uttered her name as softly as a prayer as he turned and pulled her into his arms. Morganna Nightwhisper.
Exiled princess of the Unseelie. The infamous Dark Ones.
Those that his kind, the Seelie of the Light, were forbidden to love.
He and Morganna had sacrificed everything they had ever hoped to become or possess, just so they could possess each other, and if he had it to do all over again, he’d not hesitate.
Their love was well worth the sacrifice.
“Tell me, my beloved mate, which of these lovely tourists is the next match on our list?”
Avoiding his gaze, she fidgeted with the thick locks of his silvery-white hair, tucking the longest of them behind his ears.
“I thought we discussed cloaking yer natural shade with a darker glamour. More than one visitor has noticed the unnatural brilliance to yer hair when ye move through the shadows. One remarked that ye but needed pointy ears to pass yerself off as an Elven from their favorite show on the internet.” She wrinkled her nose, her dark amethyst eyes sparkling.
“I canna recall the movie they named, but I dinna think it was one ye particularly liked.”
It wasn’t the shade of his mane that bothered his ebony-haired love.
Nay, it was news she didn’t wish to share with him.
The scent of her avoidance floated in the air with the pungency of a briny sea wind tainted with the rotting fishiness of a catch left in the sun too long.
“Speak it, Morganna. I would know what it is that ye dinna wish to tell me.”
She allowed her subterfuge to fall away, and he wished she hadn’t.
Her sorrow and frustration flowed into him.
“We lost three of the pairings from our count against the curse. The strain of the differing centuries”—she gritted her teeth, baring them like an angered beastie—“and incessant meddling by those who would see us fail tore them asunder. We chose poorly, my love. I fear they were not fated after all, or else their love would have prevailed through the trials.”
She bowed her head as if the weight of this loss was hers alone to bear.
He pulled her back into his arms and nestled her head to his chest, not caring that all were watching, and those of the magical world knew that their powerful Morganna had shared the bad news with their leader.
“Dinna fash yerself, my own—we will do better. Because we must.” And he meant the words with all his heart.
He refused to lose what they had built here at Craig Durness.
This place was proof that only love mattered—not boundaries or races or differences of any kind.
The archaic rules of the Fae and the gods were wrong.
“What of the next match?” he asked, determined to push onward.
She stepped out of his embrace with a peeved expression that spoke volumes. Once again, trouble brewed.
He gave way to a weary groan. “The woman from this century or the man in the past? Which is the problem?” Females tended to travel through time more easily than males.
As the life bearers, the Wheel of the Ages handled them with a kinder touch.
But the females of this century were also more difficult to coax away from the niceties that the twenty-first century offered.
“Jadrack and Epsily were convinced beyond any doubt that she and her fated mate are ready to be reunited.”
“The dragon and the kelpie are always convinced the fated mates are ready.” Morganna turned and fixed a narrow-eyed scowl on the pair in question. They currently stood outside their small teashop on the square, arguing.
Jadrack Greyguard, a fearsome black dragon from deep within the Scaleheart Mountains, would kill for his mate, Epsily Oakchest, a wily kelpie, a shapeshifting water spirit from Loch an Lagain.
Epsily would kill for Jadrack as well. But more often than not, it seemed as though the two would just as happily kill each other. They argued as fiercely as they loved.
“Jadrack. Epsily. A word, please. Immediately.” Callum silently summoned the pair to avoid bellowing across the village square and startling the trio of mortal females who had just arrived yesterday. He nodded at the new arrivals. “What about them?” he asked Morganna.
She gave the young women a dubious look. “We did not coax those three to come for a visit, but Forestor and Thedia have combined their magic to see if one or all of them might be in search of the other half of their souls.”
Callum rolled his shoulders, trying to shake away the unpleasant memory of what had happened the last time Forestor Grimheart and his mate, Thedia Ironsunder, had mixed their magic. “I thought we’d decided the mixing of troll and dwarf magic had become too volatile.”
“They swore to be more careful this time.”
“That makes me feel so much better.”
Morganna glared at him. “Sarcasm helps nothing.”
Their arms swinging in perfect tandem, Jadrack and Epsily hurried across the square and halted in front of Callum as if reporting for duty.
“Aye?” Jadrack puffed out his burly chest and folded his arms across it. He appeared oblivious to the problem at hand, but then, dragons always did.
Epsily rolled her eyes and jutted her chin higher. Even in her human glamour, the kelpie’s features still bore a resemblance to the long, angular face of a horse, and her mane was just as wild. “The latest mortal is more than ready to join with the other half of her soul.”
“Then why is she not here?” Callum pinned a hard glare on the being, daring her to stretch the truth, as she sometimes did to cover her own arse.
“She thinks our emails are a scam.” Epsily shuffled back a step, a sure sign she was telling the truth. The boastful, big-spirited kelpie never retreated unless she had failed.
“So we sent a registered packet,” Jadrack said, coming to his mate’s defense. “That should convince her.”
“Yet ye have not received a reply,” Morganna retorted. “Are ye certain the moon properly blessed the waters in the divining bowl? The goddesses have tampered with visions before. Ye feel sure it was that woman in America and not one of these three who arrived yesterday?”
Callum scrubbed his face with both hands, then held them up for silence.
He’d heard enough. “Did Jarrah and Petra agree with yer findings?” While Petra Montgomery was in fact a mortal witch, she descended from a long line of druids, and magic flowed strongly in her veins.
Even her mate, Jarrah MacAnany—a rare wulver, a Scottish werewolf from the coastline—both feared and revered all that his beloved Petra could do if she so set her mind to it.
“Jarrah and Petra agreed,” Epsily said.
“Petra did the divining herself,” Jadrack added. “We merely observed.”
That made Callum feel a little better. He turned to Morganna. “I fear ye must fetch this American woman. Perhaps then she’ll not think someone is trying to harm her.”
“Bah!” Morganna huffed in disgust. “I knew ye were going to ask that of me, and ye know how I feel about the mortal’s way of flying.”
“I am sorry, my love, but ye know as well as I that we’ve no time to spare.
Especially not after losing ground with the three who fractured.
” He moved in and kissed her cheek before she could dodge him in her irritation.
“No one can handle this task as well as yerself. I am sorry. But we’ve no choice. ”
“I know.” She turned away and stared up at the ominous, swirling clouds, a subtle warning only those of the magical realm would notice. A resigned sigh escaped her.
All of them had noticed that the magical wards that guarded Craig Durness had fired off warnings more times than any of them could count as of late. The Fae and the gods were tiring of waiting for the curse to run its course and destroy them.
Those of Craig Durness had to match more fated mates as quickly as possible—and match them right this time.
“I will leave first thing tomorrow,” she said, then pointed at Jadrack and Epsily. “Help Forestor and Thedia research the next match. We must make haste, ye ken?”
Jadrack and Epsily bowed to her, then nodded to Callum and took their leave.
Callum caught hold of Morganna’s hand as she turned to go. “We will prevail, m’love. We have come too far to do otherwise.”
Her eyes gleaming with tears of frustration, she touched his cheek with the tenderness that always made his heart swell. “We will prevail because we must. I refuse to lose ye.”