“I don’t know.” Dyna’s gaze stayed on the loch. “That’s what frightens me. Lia didn’t look at him like she’d seen something new. She looked at him like she’d seen something old.”
Ailith took that in.
“I’ve not told your da. I’ve not told Derric. I’ll tell them when I know more, or when Lia returns. Until then, lass, I need to ask something hard of you.”
“Ask it.”
“Stay near him. You, Sylvi, and Tora. Your gift may be the only thing that tells us what he carries before it hurts someone.” Dyna finally turned. Her eyes, in the gray light, were the color of wet slate. “But you watch for that thrum you felt before. If youfeel aught at all when he’s near you—a chill, a wrongness, the smallest thing—you come to me. No one else. Me.”
“Lia said to keep the bairns from him.”
“Aye.”
“But not the seers.”
“She didn’t say for certes. I’m choosing.” Dyna’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “That’s the piece of being a chieftain no one tells ye about, lass. You obey when ye can. The rest, ye carry.”
Ailith felt the weight of it shift onto her. It didn’t feel heavy. It felt like a plaid that carried secrets.
“Tell no one of this conversation. Not John. Not your mother.”
“Aye, Dyna. Oh. Something else I forgot. When we were at the market, an old woman followed me, grabbing my mantle trying to speak with me.”
“That is most strange. Did you find out what she wanted?”
“Aye. After we bought the tarts, she nearly knocked Sylvi and me over. She said we were the ones who could save them.” Ailith turned to see what Dyna thought of this, wondering if the woman was also some kind of wizened healer.
“Them?”
Her eyes moistened at the thought, but she passed it on. “She said there were eight bairns being held by the faeries.”
Dyna grabbed her forearm, her eyes widening. “What else did she say?”
“They were at the old stones by the western water. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Nay, but it will surely help us. Did Edan say anything?”
“He said it was a quarter day away.”
“We’ll be there on the morrow then, right after Finlaggan. Edan won’t wait.”
Her cousin squeezed her shoulder, hard enough to mean it, and turned back toward the cottage.
Ailith stayed at the water’s edge, closing her eyes to bask in the lapping of the loch.
Chapter Seventeen
Alasdair
Alasdair stood on a large rock a distance away from the water’s edge, casting his net into the loch. These early morning hours, before anyone else stirred, were his favorite time to fish. A slight breeze rippled the water and whenever it happened, he could see the fish coming to the surface to feed. Most of the beef had been devoured last night, thanks to six strapping lads. He’d salvaged half of the smoked pork, tucking it away in a cool spot for today’s meal.
He recalled the days of his youth with Els and Alick; if meat was before them, they ate it. Now, isolated in this new area in the western isles of the Hebrides, he was mindful of their need for caution. He wasn’t prepared to return to Finlaggan yet.
Fish would be for lunch, smoked pork for the evening meal. The remainder could make a fine stew on the morrow. He and Emmalin had purchased salt and a few other spices to flavor any pottage, along with barley and oats for porridge.
He waited for the familiar tug on his net, his thoughts drifting to their long journey. He vividly recalled his devastation at MacLintock Castle when their malicious neighbor had kidnapped Ailith, imprisoning her in his cellar. She had endured five days in a cold, dark cell, sustained only by bread and water. He had never felt so utterly helpless.
The neighbor had intended to trade Ailith’s life for their land. Alasdair had followed the trail the man left, finding his daughter lying in filth within a small, locked chamber. She’d barely had enough strength left to cling to him.
