It was unusual for her to be up this early and she was surprised at the busyness of the keep. After the celebration last night she had expected everyone to sleep in but obviously not. Servants bustled around laden with candles and there was an air of tension in the air that she couldn’t quite place.
Elise hurried through the castle until she reached the door to Phillip’s study and knocked. “Phillip? You up yet? I’ve brought your paperwork back.”
There was no answer. Typical. The one day she wanted to catch him early and he wasn’t here. Well, she wasn’t lugging this lot back up to her room.
Muttering under her breath, she wove a tiny spell and the lock on the door sprang open. Elise stole inside.
The room was empty but a fire had burned low in the grate, showing that Phillip had been here recently. The air smelt faintly of smoke and burned herbs.
She dumped her satchel of documents on the desk next to a silver bowl of water, slumped into the chair and, tipping the chair onto its back legs, laid her head against the wall behind.
God, she was tired. What she wouldn’t give for a decent night’s sleep. What she wouldn’t give to be in her own home right now with a pot of coffee brewing and something cheesy playing on the radio.
What she wouldn’t give for Jamie Donald’s arms around her.
Nope. Absolutely not. Not thinking about that right now.
Her eyes drifted closed, and she hadn’t realized she’d dozed off for a second until the chair began to tip over backward.
Her eyes flew open, and she pinwheeled madly, trying to catch onto something. Her hand caught a shelf behind her, and she grabbed it to keep herself from crashing to the floor. But the shelf made an odd clicking nose and turned in her hand, the chair toppled, and suddenly she was dumped unceremoniously onto the rug.
She lay there for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. Well, she was glad Phillip MacClelland hadn’t been here to seethat. She rose onto her elbows but then noticed something above her. The shelf she’d grabbed hadn’t come away from the wall as she’d thought. Instead, the wall it was attached to had swung open, revealing a cavity behind.
Elise blinked. What the—?
She scrambled to her feet and looked closer. It was a cupboard, built into the wall and then disguised by the shelf. Elise stuck her head inside, discovering a deep alcove lay within, lined with shelves.
And those shelves were filled with books.
Elise ran her fingers along the spines—and then snatched her hand back with a gasp. A sensation of cold tingled along her fingers, as though she’d plunged her fingers into an icy pool. The back of her neck prickled and goosebumps rode up her arms.
What on earth?
Doing her best to ignore the odd sensation, she reached into the alcove, pulled out the first book, then flicked it open. Strangewords and even stranger diagrams filled it, and as Elise flicked through the pages and realized what she was looking at, her eyes widened and her breath began to come more quickly.
A spell to predict the weather. A weaving to curse an enemy. An enchantment for protection against eavesdropping.
It was a book of magic.
One after another, she took out the others, flicking through them as she had the first. Some were written in languages she didn’t know but she didn’t need to read the words to recognize what these books were. They were all books of spells.
Her thoughts whirled as she struggled to make sense of this. Why would Phillip MacClelland have books on magic? And why would they be hidden behind a false wall? He would only do that if he didn’t want anyone to know he had them.
She pressed a hand to her forehead and took a deep breath, trying to still her racing thoughts. She put the books back where she’d found them, closed the door, and picked up the chair, trying to erase any evidence that she’d found the secret stash.
Her eyes strayed to the bowl of water sitting on Phillip’s desk. It had been in here every time she’d visited but she’d never thought much of it. The water was perfectly still, like a sheet of glass. Then she noticed something lying in the bottom of the bowl. Dipping her fingers into the cold water, she fished it out and examined it.
It was a lock of white-blond hair.
“Jamie,” she whispered.
She glanced back at the bowl—and froze. The water was shimmering, clouding over as though mud had been stirred up from the bottom. When it cleared, she saw images reflected on the smooth surface. But not images of the ceiling above the bowl or her own astonished expression staring into it.
They were images of Jamie.
He strode purposefully along a corridor before entering the great hall where a group of richly dressed strangers had just arrived.
With a jolt, Elise realized that this wasn’t a dream, or a vision, or a memory. This wasnow.
