Her enemy, and the very man who’d struck the blow that stole Da’s life.
She’d chosen her enemy to love. As had Rhian, after her.
“Would ye like me to go?” Farlan began to get up from his place beside the fire. He had his hair tied back, but the front of his tunic lay open, displaying the broad chest beneath. An attractive man, aye. But worth the risking of all Moira fought to protect?
“Nay.” Moira reached for his hand. “There is naught ye canna hear.”
Saerla might have disputed that, but aye, this did concern him.
He sat back down.
“I went up on the rise this morn. To the stones. To seek knowledge.”
Moira immediately looked concerned. “Is it Rhian? Has some ill befallen her?”
They both worried about their absent sister. The missing third of their hearts.
Saerla shook her head. “Danger. Darkness. A battle. It will come at night.” She contemplated the feelings that had possessed her there among the standing stones. “A terrible battle that will change everything.”
Farlan made a wordless sound of protest. He and Moira looked at one another.
“Will we lose this battle?” Moira asked.
“I could no’ tell. I did not See. Only that it will come at night, and it will be violent. And it will—will spark the beginning of the end.”
“The end for us?” Moira had gone pale.
“I swear to ye, sister, I canna tell.” Saerla would not share the rest of it, the part of the Vision that had brought her and Rory MacLeod together in a strange chamber. That which played in far too forcefully with what she’d Seen before.
A warning, that must be. For her to stay clear out of his reach. Perhaps she should not take the field in this next battle.
“Ye canna tell when this will take place?”
Saerla shook her head.
“I maun tell Alasdair. We will prepare and be ready whenever he comes.”
He. Rory MacLeod. Even in a crowd of enemies, he stood out. Bold, determined, and dangerous.
“It could happen tonight.” Moira rose. “I’d best go find Alasdair straightway. He will be on the walls. Or the training field, even as he should no’ be, given that grave wound o’ his. Sister, come.”
Eyeing Saerla, Farlan spoke softly. “My love, I think your sister needs to sit down a moment or two.”
Moira looked at Saerla through narrowed eyes. “Are ye unwell?”
“Here, sit.” Farlan rose and guided Saerla to her sister’s place. “Finish Moira’s breakfast. Ye be in need o’ restoration.”
Funny, his knowing that. The Sight took much out of Saerla, a thing she’d believed only Rhian understood. Now she beheld a measure of Rhian’s kindness in Farlan’s eyes.
“Aye, stay here,” Moira said. “I will talk wi’ Alasdair.” She stopped abruptly en route to the door. “You say Rory has overcome that injury o’ his? That you Saw him fighting in this battle that is to come?”
Saerla nodded. Moira cursed bitterly and went out.
Saerla and Farlan sat in silence for several moments after Moira had gone.
“We knew this maun come,” Farlan said then. “That Rory would no’ give up on his efforts to seize the glen. ’Twas but a matter o’ when he would move.”
“Tell me about him.” Better the boogeyman you knew than the one you imagined. Rory had once been Farlan’s best friend. There could be no one better to tell her the truth.
