Page 63 of Connal

She touched the ring, which still glowed. “Him and Joana, I think.”

Above them she saw Shaw and Nyall, both white-faced and bloody, staring at them over the edge. She smiled and waved, and then sat down on the rock, tugging Connal down beside her.

“There’s something you don’t know about Joana’s death,” she said, and when he started to protest she touched his mouth. “Please, let me tell you. It’s not good news, but you really need to hear this.”

Relating what Fiacail had told her didn’t spare him the pain of knowing his wife had been caught in an impossible situation, Valerie knew, but as she revealed the reason for Joana’s suicide Connal went very still.

“It must have taken so much courage for her to jump off that cliff,” she said finally. “But I know she did it so that the Cait Sith couldn’t take her memories. Her death protected you and everyone on Caladh. You can only do that for someone you love more than yourself––the way Joana loved you.”

Tears spilled down his face. “Aye, that I ken now.”

Valerie put her arms around him, and held him without speaking for a long time. All the doubt and fear had left her heart, too, and all she wanted was to be with him. In this time, in this Scotland, on his enchanted island––this was her home. Nothing else mattered anymore.

Finally Connal drew back and wiped his face with his sleeve. “Once the men come for us, I shall take you to the druids directly. I only wish stay and assure they may see you safely away.”

“I’m not going back.” She glanced down at Joana’s ring. “I made a promise to Joana that I would live for you. I love you, Connal.” As he pulled her back into his arms she laughed. “I guess that’s the good news.”

A shout made them both look down to the water, where a small skiff rocked in the waves rolling into the cliff. Shaw stood with a coil of rope in his hands, which he tossed up to the laird as Nyall tried to keep the boat steady.

“Lower the lady first,” the chieftain shouted up to them. “Then convince me why I shouldnae leave your sorry arse here to rot.”

“I’m the laird,” Connal called back down to him. “And you cannae hold the wedding without me.”

Shaw grinned. “Indeed? I may wed the lady in your place.”

Connal tied the rope into a sling around Valerie, showing her where to hold it before he carefully lowered her down to the skiff. Nyall caught her and helped her out before tossing the rope back up to the laird. He looped it around a boulder before climbing down and joining them.

“Derdrui and her shifters, they’ve fled,” Shaw said. “MacLeir came to aid us, and shouted something in Fae. His voice sent them all running down the hill, holding their ears and yowling.” He glanced up at the cliff. “Still, we shouldnae linger.”

“My thanks.” Connal met her gaze. “Shall we return to Caladh, then, mo bòidhchead?”

“Yes, please.” She cuddled close to him. “Let’s go home.”

“Four dead, three badly wounded, including Dearg,” Speal said as she came out of the barn in which they had taken refuge. “My head, ’tis yet ringing from that troll’s attack.”

“That disgusting creature was sired on a mortal by Leir.” Derdrui lay back against the bale of hay behind her. “When next we meet I shall cut out his tongue before I rip out his throat. What of the MacMar?”

“Gone by now, my princess.” Fiacail braced herself for a blow that didn’t come. “We must return to the vessel and leave this place before we’re discovered.”

“I suppose we must.” The enchantress surveyed the corpses of the farmer, his family and workers, all of whom lay scattered around their dwelling. “We shall go at nightfall. Where are those two drovers you captured? I am in need of diversion.”

“Inside the barn, my princess.” Speal sat down beside Fiacail, and waited until Derdrui went in before she said, “Dearg should survive. I cannae say the same of the others. Bata’s so weak from losing blood she cannae shift back, and Teine lost a hand and an ear. What more must we do to repay our sovereign’s kindness to us?”

How many more of us shall suffer and die, was what she meant.

Fiacail closed her eyes. “Everything she wishes.”

“The MacMar, they’re strong and fast, and dinnae cower before us,” Speal said, sounding tired now. “Less than ten easily trounced twice as many of us. The one they called captain possesses a sword arm like naught I’ve beheld. Another moved like flood water, and bore old Pritani skinwork.”

“I dinnae care how they fight, or what ink they etch on their hides,” she told her.

“You should. I lived for a time with the Pritani, you ken. In the old times they summoned the spirits of their gods, and allowed them possess the bodies of their young warriors as they inked them with their symbols. Sometimes the spirits, they never left those warriors.” She rubbed her reddened eyes. “That MacMar, he carries something dark and dire.”

“I dinnae care,” Fiacail repeated, although she knew her sister’s apprehension to be justified. They had never faced the MacMar in battle, and from the ferocity of their fighting to the terrible troll with the soul-piercing voice, they presented a far greater threat than she had ever imagined.

Less than ten. How shall Derdrui slaughter an entire clan of them?

The sound of a wagon approaching from a distance made Fiacail stand. “Come and help me drag the bodies into the house. We must set fire to the place before we leave.”