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Calum’s eyes flared a bright green as he carefully studied her, like a prince sizing up an opponent.
“Ask the question.” His voice was gentle but left no room for argument. Fern’s stomach turned, and the tension in the room ratcheted up dramatically.
“Ask me,” Calum demanded.
Fern shook her head, feeling the blood drain from her face. Everything was suddenly too much. The mounting pressure of what Calum had revealed to her was threatening to make her crack. He didn’t break his stare, his expression open and simultaneously unyielding. His hand stroked the top of his cane, his fingers running over the stag’s head. He opened his mouth for the third time.
“Ask me what happens if the curse isn’t broken in time, Fern Mòr McEwan.”
Fern dropped her glass and ran.
Chapter Ten
The Library Bar was a six-minute walk from campus, but Fern made it in three. After she bolted from Calum’s office, she hid in her apartment and sent a series of texts to her brother. First, apologizing for the delay in getting together, and then second, saying that she wanted to see him.
On her best days, Fern had a tenuous grip on her emotions; now, she was a human pinball machine of feelings. Her entire worldview was upside down and the only thing that might ground her was seeing family.
Mara and Emmett’s warning to not tell anyone about Scotland’s magic echoed in her head, but she figured this might be a grey area. After all, it was information that pertained to her family. Calum told her she was the only one who could help break the curse—it was her family’s magic.
Her family’s magic.
Every time Fern thought of it, a chill went down her spine. It caused a war of sensations in her, something sparking to life in her bones at the acknowledgement.
Oh, not now. She cursed and pulled her jacket tighter around herself, stepping through the front door of the pub. She would need Calum—although Mara or Emmett would likely do—if she had questions about magic. She wasn’t ready to talk to him.
The Library Bar was a two-story pub in an old Victorian building. Its second floor overlooked the main seating area on the ground level, and the walls were lined with books. The space was more brightly lit than most of the pubs Fern had been in, and she was grateful for it. If she had one more clandestine conversation, her head was going to explode.
“Fern!”
She followed the sound of her brother’s voice. Finley McEwan was younger than Fern by two years, but he towered over her. He played football in the Scottish Professional League, as a midfielder for the Heart of Midlothian F.C.
Finley shared Fern’s dark hair, and they had the same eyes and nose. The siblings had often been mistaken for twins growing up. Now, he stood a head above the crowd at six feet two inches—his American coaches tried to make him play basketball instead—with an easygoing smile and an athlete’s build. Fern could see every woman in the bar turning to look at her Finley.
“Finny!” Fern smiled and ran across the bar, barreling into her brother. They became closer than most siblings after their parents’ death, and she hadn’t seen him in a few months. This was coupled with the events of the past forty-eight hours, and Fern couldn’t ever remember being happier to see him.
Finley gave her a squeeze and rocked them back and forth, clapping her back with enough strength to make her stumble slightly. He had a playful grimace on his face.
“Please don’t call me that,” he rolled his eyes as they sat down. Finley picked up his pint and waved over the server, ordering one for Fern as she took her jacket off.
“Okay, Finny,” Fern smiled. She nearly sighed in relief when the server emerged a mere minute later with a full pint. For the second time that day, Fern nearly downed her drink on the first sip.
“Whoa,” Finley raised his eyebrows, “is everything okay?” His tone soured, his ever-present smile slipping. “You only landed like…two days ago, and you said you were sorry it took so long to see me.”
Fern nodded. “Ah. Yeah. I guess it feels like it’s been… longer than that.”
“What happened?” Finley’s brow furrowed, and Fern could see him tense. After Fern had raised them all, Finley developed quite a protective streak for his sisters. “Is someone at the University bothering you?”
“What? No!”
“Because if they are, you can move in with me straightaway. I’ve got the room. I don’t know why you opted for a campus apartment in the first place—”
“It’s not that.” Fern sighed, waving her hand in the air to stop him. Finley stopped talking but nodded, staring at her and waiting for her to go on. Fern’s throat almost closed up.
“Excuse me!” She turned and motioned for another round while Finley stared at her with an ever-increasing sense of concern.
“Fern, what the fuck happened? You’re scaring me.”
“No!” Fern flushed and swallowed thickly, but her chest was constricting. Something inside her knew she was about to tell Finley what happened. It was trying to make her stop. Fern froze.
