“Agnes. What’s wrong?” Sophie came forward, her eyes studying my face. “Do you want us to stop making fun?” Sophie whirled on the group, hands on her hips. “Knock it off, everyone. You’re upsetting her.”
“No,” I said, finding my voice. Graham caught my eye, a question on his face, and I knew that I needed to say something. He was going to let me lead, and I so appreciated him defaulting to what I wanted.
We’d lived the last couple of days in an absolute bubble of joy and rediscovering each other. I hadn’t wanted to think about the curse, only how much I loved Graham’smouth on mine again, his arms around me, his voice murmuring in my ear in the morning. But I knew that hiding away would only do us more damage than good. Lachlan was right. I was a historian, and I knew, better than most, that history would always repeat itself.
I held up my finger for silence for a moment, looked around to make sure the room was empty but for the members of the Order and their loved ones, and then took a long gulp of my wine for courage.
“That serious?” Orla whistled.
The mood shifted. I watched it happen—the easy laughter fading. They became more focused, more intent. These women had faced Kelpies and all manner of magickal threats and they knew when something mattered.
I looked around the room at the faces watching me. My friends, well, family, really. They deserved the truth.
“So,” I began. “Some of you know bits and pieces of this already, but I’ll start from the beginning so everyone has the full picture or at least what I know of it. Unfortunately, even as a historian, I’m still piecing things together.”
I told them about the Bookkeeper role first. How my family had been part of the Order for generations and how the position had been vacant since Isobel’s betrayal.
“Betrayal.” Matthew sucked in a breath and held his hand to his chest. “That does not sound good.”
“No, it wasn’t. That I can tell. She killed the Beithir and sent my family scattering.”
Silence fell as everyone’s mouth fell open at once. It would have been comical, really, if it wasn’t so damn serious.
“Bloody hell, woman. Your ancestor killed a freaking Beithir?” Faelan leaned forward, her eyes wide. “Do you have any idea the magick something like that would take?”
“Aye,” I said, and sucked in a breath, my eyes sliding to Graham’s. Reaching across the bar, he ran a hand down my arm.
“Go on,” Graham murmured.
“I don’t know the why of it, but I do know her actions sent literal shockwaves through the community. The Wrights broke apart…and took their artifacts with them.”
“Artifacts?” Hilda leaned forward. “As in plural?”
“Correct. There’s more than the Clach na Fìrinn out there.”
“Holy shit,” Sophie breathed, turning to look at everyone.
“So does that?—”
“Wait, there’s more.” I held up my hand to stop Orla’s question. A fine tremble had started through my body, and I just needed to get this out. “When my ancestor killed the Beithir, it cursed my bloodline. Every man a woman loves will die at the loch. So far, that has come to pass for every generation in my family.”
“Graham!” Hilda’s exclamation was pained, as the entire group shifted to look at Graham.
“Oh,” Sophie said, looking between us, understanding dawning. “Ohhh. I get it now. I get why you denied him all these years. You were protecting him, weren’t you?”
“Aye,” I said, softly, tears welling. I hated that I was so emotional about this, but I could not think about Graham potentially being harmed without tears springing to myeyes. And if that was the case, how the hell was I meant to protect him from the loch? I could barely talk about it without crying, let alone fight a Beithir or whatever.
“Which, I’ve told her many times now, that she’s been a bloody eejit keeping this to herself,” Graham said and I whirled on him.
“How so?” I demanded. “Because I was right! You’d do exactly what you’re doing now. Ignoring the warnings and pretending you’ll be just fine. But you won’t be. And when you find out, it will be too late and we’ll be left with…” My voice cracked and I couldn’t continue.
“Hey, hey, hey now. It’s okay. You’re all right.” Liora hopped up and ran to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “We’ll sort this out. Together.”
“Aye, and Graham’s going to promise not to be a bloody eejit and wander about on his own, isn’t he?” Ramsay ordered, his tone sharp.
“What are you going to do about it, mate? Babysit me?” Graham lifted his chin at Ramsay, his brows drawing low over his forehead in a mutinous expression, and I sighed.
“See?” I said, weakly, waving a hand in the air. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”
