Page 89 of Dark Rival

“Aye, ye did yer duty, an’ the Ancients be pleased.”

Calmer at last, Royce glanced toward Allie and saw her walking away, clearly heading for the sacred shrine. He was glad and he felt himself soften. He knew how much their gods meant to her. He wanted her to find peace and joy at the shrine. No one deserved peace and joy more.

“Moffat has declared war on us with his actions,” MacNeil said. “I’ll be goin’ to court to see if the King can bring him to heel.”

Royce walked into the meeting house with MacNeil, where they settled into chairs before the hearth. “Have ye been told about the future?”

MacNeil looked carefully at him. “The Ancients,” he said slowly, “have let me see the future.”

Royce became still. MacNeil had a great power of sight, which he claimed was not his, and that the Ancients allowed him to see when they so chose. Royce had once believed him; now, he believed MacNeil saw what he chose when he chose, and used the device of the power being controlled by the gods as an excuse to avoid fortune-telling. It was hard to breathe—so much was at stake. “So ye dinna speak to Aidan.”

MacNeil shook his head. “I saw the future the day I summoned ye to Iona to tell about Ailios—the day I sent ye to 2007.”

Royce inhaled. “Are ye saying ye saw my death?”

“Aye.”

He shouldn’t be shaken. He was old and tired and worn and it was more than time to die. But he stood, shocked.

MacNeil also stood. “I’m sorry, Ruari. But 2007 is a long time from now.”

Royce turned away quickly so MacNeil would not see his expression. But what about Ailios? Who would protect her, defend her, when he was gone? Who would guard her while she healed? Who would share her bed?

He had thought about his death for centuries. He had never worried; he had accepted that one day, his Fate would be death. Now, he turned. “Are ye certain ye saw my death?”

“Aye, at Moffat’s hands—ye were protecting Ailios. Aidan was with ye.”

So it was written, he thought, walking over to the fire. He stared blindly into the flames. Ailios had hunted him down in the past to prevent his death in the future, but his Fate was engraved in stone.

It didn’t matter. No one would care.

I care!

Her voice resounded as loudly as if she stood beside him, crying out.

Ailios would weep for him. She had already wept over his dead body—and she would do so again.

He trembled, uncertain.

MacNeil clasped his shoulder. “We all go, eventually.”

Royce somehow smiled. No one knew MacNeil’s age, but it was said he was well over a thousand years old. “Ye’ll never die. Who will manage the Masters if ye do?” His voice cracked.

MacNeil stared sympathetically at him.

“Swear to me,” Royce said roughly, “that when I’m gone, ye’ll see to her care yerself. Yer the most powerful among us. Swear to me, now, that she’ll be yer Innocent.”

MacNeil nodded. “I give my word.”

Royce turned away, sickened now, for he saw them in bed. It was inevitable.

MacNeil said quietly, “I shouldn’t say so, but she loves ye deeply, Ruari. She’ll never love another man.”

He whirled. “Did ye see that, too?”

MacNeil hesitated. “Nay. I canna see past the day ye die.”

Royce thrust himself into MacNeil’s mind, and realized he was telling the truth. Clearly he had lurked on Ailios. Did it matter? Eventually MacNeil would seduce her. He would never think to deny himself, not with Royce gone.