Page 121 of Luthias

“I’m thinking.” She crawled out and sat up, brushing a dust bunny from her damp nose. “I haven’t looked at all the blades the clan has yet, that’s pretty obvious. I’ll never have another chance to research like this, you know. Plus Camdyn promised to take me down to the village forge so I could see how their blacksmith works, and he hasn’t done that yet. He never keeps his promises to me, that jerk, and… and…”

The laird reached down to pull her to her feet. “And?”

“And Darach said he would teach me how to swim so I don’t almost drown the next time I try to save you while you’re not drowning.” She took in a deep breath to keep back the sobs. “If I’m here and you fall into a loch again, I can drag you to shore at least. You won’t have to stay on the bottom until someone misses you, and… and…”

He tipped up her chin and looked into her eyes. “And?”

“I love you.” Saying the words hurt her throat. “But it’s okay, really. You don’t have to marry me or anything. I’ll just stay here so you won’t be lonely. I can’t live in my time thinking of you all alone in yours. I can’t live without you anymore. Please don’t make me go.”

Luthias kissed her, and when she tasted her own tears on his lips Emery started to sob again. Then he scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of his bedchamber and down the passage, passing smiling guards and giggling maids.

“Why are they laughing at me?” Emery looked over his shoulder to see Ameron and Kyal giving each other a high-five. “I guess everyone really wants me out of here.” That made her feel worse. “Okay, I’ll walk.”

The laird ignored her as he carried her down the stairs and back into the great hall, where all the men cheered. Camdyn stood waiting with the Fire Sword on the dais, and handed it to Luthias as he climbed up and put Emery on her feet.

“Fine I’ll go back, or forward, or whatever,” she told the armorer. “Do you have to grin like that, really?”

Camdyn scowled. “She’s decided against you, my lord? Let me have her for an hour. I’ll beat some sense into her.”

“What do you mean, decided against him?” She flung a hand toward the laird’s chamber. “Did I not just run away so I could stay here?”

“Quiet,” Luthias told both of them, and took the Fire Sword from Camdyn before he looked at Emery. “You’ve a wish to make, my lady. We cannae make thus for you. ’Tis time to choose.”

She hated the cold feel of the blade under her fingers. She wanted to toss it in the furnace and watch it melt. Then she saw the hope in her lover’s eyes, and realized that she could make another wish, not just the one that would take her back to her time.

“All right, here goes,” Emery said, and then met the laird’s gaze. “I wish to stay and be with you forever, because I love you. That’s all I want.”

Red, gold and orange light rayed out from the hilt of the sword, swirling around her and Luthias. As it caressed her skin Emery felt something moving across her shoulder blades from one side to the other, and felt the pain from the burns on her hands disappear. As her hair floated around her face it twined with the laird’s fiery golden strands, and then something moved between them. The light of Fae magic came from his chest to sink into hers, and then slowly faded.

Everyone in the hall seemed to be holding their breath as Taveon came forward and knelt on one knee before her. “Welcome to the clan, Sister.”

“Sister?” Emery’s eyes widened as the rest of the men dropped down and echoed him. “I’m a MacRoss now? Just like that?”

“Aye, my lady.” Luthias set aside the Fire Sword, and took her in his arms. “You’re clan, and immortal, and mine forever.”

Emery had thought their first kiss had been the best one of her life. She discovered she’d been wrong.

Darach nursed his whiskey as he watched his brothers reeling around the laird and his lady. Cook scolded the maids who were dallying as she came out with another platter of fruit, and Camdyn scowled from the wall he leaned against with his arms folded, unwilling to go near anyone with a mug of ale or whiskey. Everyone cheered as Duine awkwardly danced with Cerys, his round face shining and pink.

“He should marry,” Ameron said to Kyal as they passed the chieftain. “The master sage, he’s no’ too old to sire sons.”

The other guard sighed as he looked over at Cerys. “Would that we could.”

Darach often wondered why Duine remained unwed; he’d been handsome in his youth. Having a face that yet frightened children often made him envious of even the plainest of men, and only one brother had ever made him feel himself lucky to only be disfigured. His gaze strayed to the empty chair on the dais as he thought of Kendric, the only full-blood brother to Luthias, who had left a decade earlier swearing never to return. He hated the selfish bastart with all his heart, but his betrayal still perplexed him. Why should any MacRoss choose wealth over family, and steal from Luthias, who had trusted him completely? How did greed for coin make a man turn his back on blood-kin?

A slice of the plummy cake Cook had made for the feast thumped down in front of him. “End your brooding over Kendric.”

Darach looked up at Taveon’s annoyed expression. “How do you ken what’s in my head?”

“You ever look thus when you think on that traitorous fack.” The war master sat down beside him and stretched out his long legs. “His bones likely rot on some battlefield now.”

“Aye.” After being exposed Kendric had gone north to join a band of mercenaries in Éire to fight for mortals with enough coin to pay for his strong arm. Likely he had stolen from them as well, for he never could resist filching what did not belong to him. “’Tis best, I reckon, that he never tried to make amends.”

“Forget him and enjoy the day,” Taveon suggested. “We’ve naught to worry us.”

“Naught, except Callum Carack burned to death on our side of the boundaries, thanks to some demented fack we’ve yet to name, much less catch, who might have ended Luthias and the lass.” Darach drained his whiskey and sighed. “Would that I could so easily lie to myself.”

“I meant our war with the Carack,” the war master corrected. “Struan accepted the laird’s word on Callum’s end, and said his watchers saw the same. Mery’s one of us now, and we shall find this bone cobbler and hang the gruesome bastart. Our clan lives on.”