He pushed the old growth aside to crawl through the narrow entrance. When he was a child, it had seemed so much larger to him. Pitch black awaited him as he dropped down inside and began to edge his way up the slope, one hand braced against the side of the confining passageway. He moved slowly, following the curve of the wall until the faint shaft of light behind him was no more than a memory.
Ahead of him stretched an unnatural dark he had been spared before by his father’s torch.
There was no torch this time.
The passage narrowed here; he remembered even as child feeling hemmed in. His shoulders touched the walls on both sides and he was forced to dip his head to continue forward.
A few more steps and a light flashed in the tunnel ahead of him, blinding him with its brilliance after so long without his vision. He would have drawn his weapon but there was no space. He barely had room to lift a hand to shield his eyes from the blinding glow.
A figure stepped into the light, the radiance surrounding him like a golden halo. In his hand he held aloft a shining sword.
Torquil.
“And so the prodigal son returns. But why, I wonder, would he choose an entrance such as this rather than the front gates?”
A flash of movement where Torquil had stood and a fire of pain consumed Malcolm’s chest, all but doubling him over in its intensity.
Torquil had moved in, not two feet separating them, the hilt of his sword flat out, the blade leading toward . . .
Malcolm’s head dropped forward, too heavy to hold up any longer. His gaze followed the length of his brother’s blade to its destination, buried in his own chest, a ribbon of dark red blood flowing down where already it pooled on the stones at his feet.
“Welcome home, little brother,” Torquil murmured, his voice somewhere nearby. “Be grateful I don’t take yer head.”
The sword was withdrawn from Malcolm’s body and he crumpled, feeling himself falling forward into a void much blacker than even the tunnel he’d traversed this night, his ears assaulted by the sound of his brother’s laughter until he could hear no more.
Twenty-five
DANI JOLTED AWAKEwith a jerk, her pulse racing as if she’d had one of those awful nightmares of falling helplessly through space.
Only it wasn’t falling that had awakened her. And it certainly hadn’t been a nightmare.
She sat up in the big bed, gathering the covers around her that she’d apparently kicked away in the throes of her dream. Lord, she should have known better than to tempt fate by sleeping in Malcolm’s bed after the things they’d done here less than a week ago.
Sliding to the edge of the bed, she swung her feet to the floor, realizing as she did that somewhere in the course of the dream she’d even managed to strip out of her nightgown.
Her body aching with unfulfilled need, she bent to retrieve her clothing and drop it over her head. Even as she slipped the long robe on over her gown, she knew there would be no more sleep for her tonight. Not with her heart pounding and her pulse racing the way it was.
If she were back home, she’d make a beeline for the kitchen for some cookies and milk. A moment to consider the idea and, although there were no milk and cookies waiting, she decided to head for the kitchen anyway. There had to be something she could find to nibble on.
She lit a candle from the fire and slipped out into the hallway. At the top of the stairs she smiled in spite of herself at her foolish behavior. This running to the kitchen when she thought about Malcolm had better not become a habit or she’d weigh a ton by the time he returned.
The long stone staircase seemed even more intimidating than usual by the flickering light of a single candle, and she held a hand against the wall to steady her descent.
Rather than go through the huge gathering room, she opted to take the back halls. They were narrow and winding, but a less intimidating option. The great hall was depressingly cavernous in the light of day with both of the big fires burning. She didn’t want to even consider what it would feel like to walk through there now with nothing more than the glow of embers to light her way.
When she reached the kitchen and slipped inside she was surprised to see another candle already burning. Elesyria sat on a bench, leaning over onto a small table in the corner, a clay bowl and a goblet in front of her.
“Your dreams wake you up, too?” Dani asked.
The Faerie shook her head and waved her arm, motioning for Dani to sit beside her.
“Would that I might be able to get to sleep to have dreams.” She popped a bite into her mouth and sighed. “Tell me of your dreams, Dani. Perhaps a story will soothe my unease.”
Elesyria might be the closest thing she had to a good friend here, but that still didn’t mean Dani was comfortable sharing what she considered intimate details.
“Let’s just say it was, bar none, the most realistic dream I’ve ever had and we’ll leave it at that.”
Dani sat down and reached into the bowl Elesyria offered, delighted to find it contained bits of dried fruit and nuts. It wasn’t cookies, but it would do.
