Page 20 of Fletcher

“I appreciate the offer, sir,” Lark said. “Obviously immortality is a huge gift, and the Selseus sound like very interesting people. I also like how honest you are. It’s just that for my own reasons I’d rather not get married or have children.”

The king studied her face for a moment. “’Tis fortunate, then, for I cannot offer for you, my lady.”

She frowned. “You can’t?”

Merrick gestured toward her hair. “The Selseus dinnae take mates with red hair. Females with your coloring, they’re considered bad luck.”

“I see.” Even among aquatic immortals she was a jinx, Lark thought. “Sorry I’m not a blonde.”

“Merrick,” a hard voice said behind them.

Lark turned her head to see Fletcher stepping over the stone walls as he strode toward them. “I think I’d better talk to him. Would you excuse us, please?”

The king lingered for a moment, giving the seneschal a narrow look before he bowed to Lark and walked without hurrying from the center into the shell-walled side of the maze. When Fletcher reached her he looked over her for a moment before starting after Merrick.

“It’s okay,” she said, catching his arm to stop him. The iron-hard bulge of his muscles startled her a little, as did the look in his eyes when he swung around to face her. “He wanted to tell me about his people.”

“Pay Merrick no heed,” Fletcher said, his tone hard and flat. “I found you, so you dinnae belong to them. The laird shall deal with that bastart, or I shall.”

Now Lark understood why Nyall had mentioned his temper. “I don’t belong to anyone, Fletcher, and Merrick knows that. Also, he doesn’t want me.”

For a moment he looked torn between fury and surprise. “Why no’?”

“Evidently because I have red hair I’m bad luck, and no one would want to marry me.” Lark glanced over at the other side of the labyrinth, but the king had disappeared. “Still, he’s actually a very nice man.” As Fletcher made a contemptuous sound she frowned. “What I mean is, he was nice to me.”

“Had you another color of hair, he’d wish breed you, naught more.” The seneschal took hold of her hand. “You shouldnae wander away from the stronghold alone.”

“She didnae.” Nyall joined them. “I accompanied the lady here, and I shall take her back. You need send word about the attack to all the crofts and villages on the island. Until we give word, they shouldnae graze any livestock near the sea, and their women need keep their bairns at home. I’ll advise the laird.”

“Aye.” Fletcher glanced back at the shoreline before meeting Lark’s gaze. “Go with the captain, lass. I’ll speak more with you later.”

Chapter Seven

Gathering all the Cait Sith for the voyage required Fiacail to send out a summons through her thoughts; convincing them to leave Aberdeen and board the vessel required rather more effort. Water had always been their weakness, and sailing over the sea made them all sick. After the recent skirmish with the MacMar, none of the shape shifters wanted to face them again.

“Didnae we suffer enough for the enchantress?” Teine demanded as soon as she came to the docks. She had covered her missing eye with a strapped black patch, and kept her maimed arm in a sling. “Bata’s barely walking still, and I’m half-blind and one-handed. What shall make her content? Watching until the facking MacMar slay us all?”

“Mayhap she’ll choose you serve as her entertainment today,” Speal countered, making the wounded shifter pale. “’Tisnae your wish? Get on the cursed boat.”

All but one of their sisters straggled their way to the vessel, most looking sullen and muttering to each other in low voices. Fiacail noted how they all drew back as Dearg approached, still clad in druid’s robes. The little Cait Sith skipped up toward the boat as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Then the flood of fearful thoughts from the others streamed into Fiacail’s head.

’Tis whispered she’s gone memory mad.

Wee fiend should be chained in a dark cellar.

I shallnae sleep on the journey unless I’m shut in a crate.

She’ll cut our throats.

The little Cait Sith stopped in front of Fiacail and giggled before gazing past her at the large fishing boat. “’Tis a good day to hunt men.” She headed toward the gangway.

Speal looked at the others and shook her head a little, and all the frightened thoughts suddenly stopped. Fiacail noted no change in Dearg’s demeanor, and tried to reach out to her through her mind. All she found was a looming void where her sister’s thoughts should have been. That meant she no longer shared their communal awareness of each other, another indication she grew more ill by the hour.

“Get on with you,” Speal called out, gesturing for the others to follow her.

Fiacail waited until everyone had boarded before she spoke to her. “I shall deal with Dearg once we’re in the deep.”

“Aye, for she’d end me in a blink.” The fish wife’s small eyes shifted to the cabin on deck. “You’ve told our princess?”