The night seemed alive with echoes of Caitlin. He could feel her pulling against his heart, as if she were gathering in a mystic thread that linked them together. He could sense her as if that special magic she had told him of could carry her to him across a shimmering bridge of starshine.
Could a man make love to starshine? He felt an unreasonable urge to reach out his arms in an attempt to gather her close.
Impossible.
He smiled. Yet was anything impossible in the light of the love Caitlin bore him? Had any other man ever felt this craving? This sweet madnessthat made the most resolute warrior in Glenfluirse want to reach out to fairy-spun dreams? Believe he could conjure his lover from silvery light and longing?
He turned toward the fortress gate, knowing she would not be there. Knowing with his mind she needed to stay far away in Daire, safe, regardless of the rebellion taking hold in his heart.
Yet it seemed even the fairies were amused by the fact that stone-hearted Niall of the Seven Betrayals writhed with love pangs, the mischievousTuatha de Danaanconjuring up mystical visions before him. Something pale glided toward him, wavering like living mist from the castle gates—a figure so like a woman's it made his heart stop.
Yet what woman would be out at this time? Every woman in Glenfluirse celebrated in the great hall, and no living, breathing female would dare cross the wild lands to reach Glenfluirse in the darkness. No reasoning man would believe it possible for a moment.
Still, if this was madness, Niall knew he never wanted to be sane again. His gaze devoured the ethereal figure, white linen rippling about her, the soft oval of her face a bright smudge on the darkness. A shape-shifter, gliding toward him, adream lover reaching for him from the conjuring of his own mind.
Caitlin...
"Behind you!"
Her warning split the night, her voice impossibly real. He swung around just as something hurtled from the shadows. Pain seared his ribs as blade bit flesh. He flung himself to one side, barely in time to keep his attacker from burying a gleaming dagger in his heart.
But he had escaped for only a moment, he realized dimly. The swirling haze sucked him deeper, pulling him under thick, dark waves.
What was wrong with him? Niall wondered with panic. His body had turned traitor! Arms trained for years in battle grew awkward, all but useless, his instincts terrifyingly dulled.
He staggered toward his attacker, a hulking figure woven of torchlight and nightmare charging him, savage as the boar that had tried to rip his body open on the cliff.
Torchlight gleamed on Magnus's bared teeth, filled the bowls of Magnus's hate-filled eyes with flame. His clothing reeked, the stain from where he had spilled the cup still wet and stinking of ale.
Magnus, the man who had been waiting all his life to kill Niall.
Realization shattered into fear as he glimpsed the figure from the gate running toward him, the vision taking on shape and substance, her face filled with terror, her hair a black tangle in the wind.
Caitlin!
Nay! She could not be real! Or had he summoned her somehow from the sky? He wondered in the whirling confusion of his addled senses. Had he brought her here through some mystic link beyond time, beyond magic? Carried her into danger? His gut froze, cold with terror.
Desperate, Niall shoved back his sick dizziness, summoned his last strength to meet his attacker. Praying to a God he half believed in, Niall dove for Magnus. A roar of fury erupted from Magnus as the burly warrior tried to slash the blade down to cleave Niall's flesh. Somehow, Niall twisted from its path as Magnus tried to slam the dagger home.
Grabbing the warrior's wrist, Niall drove the weapon down, felt the sickening sensation of the blade piercing Magnus's belly. Magnus's hellish scream split the night, but Niall barely heard it or the sounds of people spilling from the castle's door.
He crashed to the ground, his gaze fasteningon Magnus's face. The dying warrior's hand clamped on his arm.
"Cannot... end this way," Magnus groaned, writhing. "You... defeating me again. Glenfluirse... was mine by right."
Niall fought off the dizziness, clamping his arm tight against his own side, wet and hot with fresh blood. "Conn give Glenfluirse to a coward? To a man who would stab another in the back? Did you really believe..."
"Should have been so easy." Magnus's eyes rolled wildly. "Saw you staggering out of the hall. Stumbling from drink just like... said you would."
Awareness pierced Niall despite the waves of dizziness that assailed him. "The drink? The cup you offered me..."
"Poison." Magnus's lips twisted in a grotesque smile.
"But your father—he tasted it—"
"Said... if you drank it... even I should be able to... kill you."
Rage spread hot through Niall's veins, and he struggled with all his will to cling to his wits despite the dragging haze. "You gave the cup to your own father! He could have died—"
