She’d grabbed a few books, includingLady Gregory’s Complete Irish Mythology, and had been skimming through while Remi had examined more images of the harp, hoping there was something about the Gáe Bolg Kyan had told her about.
‘Who is this person?’ Remi said, pointing to a name that must have caught her attention.
Scáthach.
Nicole held the book up so Kyan could see, even though it looked like the name he had mentioned to her in Burghley House.
‘Scah-hack,’ Kyan confirmed, sounding it out.
‘She was a powerful Empyreal who trained Kyan at her fortress on the Isle of Skye,’ Nicole added.
Remi looked up, excitement glimmering in her dark eyes. ‘It says here she had a magic harp that could put people to sleep, the sameas the Dagda’s.’ Remi twisted to see Kyan. ‘Do you know if it was the Dagda’s harp, or where it might be? Did you ever see it?’
Kyan shook his head. ‘No. The only way to know would be to go to her fortress on Skye.’
‘When I was researching the oldest instruments,’ Remi said, ‘one came up. You’ll never guess where it was found.’
‘The Isle of Skye?’ Dylan asked, incredulous.
‘Yes, a harpbridgeto be exact, not the whole instrument. It’s the part where the strings sit, just before they’re secured to the base. It was discovered a few years ago by human archaeologists.’
‘I didn’t know there was a fortress on the Isle of Skye,’ Bells said.
‘It’s hidden,’ Kyan added. ‘One of the feats that proved your worthiness to train with her was being able to find it and see through the illusion. But I imagine she would have contacted me if she was still alive. We may have to go there anyway. I can take you.’
‘Why do you want to go?’ Remi asked.
‘There may be a weapon there I want to retrieve. The next time this Empyreal comes, I don’t want him walking away.’
‘Considering we need to get to this thief’s party next week in Edinburgh, this gives us a few days,’ her father said. ‘I’ll make the arrangements when we’re ready to go. But first, are you coming with us tomorrow?’ The question was directed at Nicole.
To the cottage where your mother died.
That fateful place was also here in Ireland. But they were running out of time, and there was one more place they needed to visit.
She glanced to Kyan. Others might consider his a carefully blank expression, but his hand was fisted, the woven bracelet of his people drawn taut around his wrist.
He had avoided going back to the Druid forest his whole life. So much of her wanted to see the cottage, but not going there also meant there was a reason to come back. When this was all over and they weren’t rushing or hunting for clues, she could have time with the place and sit with the memory of her mother.
‘You don’t need me,’ Nicole said, trying to lessen the sudden, sharp grip of distress at the idea of them splitting up for that long. It might only be a day and night, but … this would be worth it. And while her family had each other, Kyan had no one to go with him, not with Callum back in England.
‘I’ll go to the Druid ruins with Kyan.’
Their father’s eyes skidded to him with a clear, unmistakable warning. ‘Keep her safe, or I’ll shoot you again. With more bullets next time.’
‘I think you’re growing on him,’ Dylan said, slapping Kyan on the back.
Kyan smiled slightly, his shoulders relaxing with gratitude, his forest-dark eyes a little less resigned.
‘And I,’ Remi said, ‘will meet you in Scotland in a few days.’ She slammed the book shut. ‘I have a harp to research.’
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Kyan
KYAN HAD SEEN IRELAND CHANGE ON HISRARE TRIPS HERE,but it all looked –felt–so different.
Two thousand years of landscape shifts would do that, he reminded himself. Still, an unnamed, pained tension in his chest had only worsened while renting a car and driving with Nicole an hour and a half north of Dublin and over the border into Northern Ireland, where his near mythic home lay.
