Page 58 of Shaw

“This man and his beast love you as they have in every time and life you’ve shared,” her aunt said softly. “They will not permit you to burn.”

“If you’re like the Fae, then can you do something this time?” Julianne pointed at the window to the mortal realm. “Save him and Buster. I don’t care about me. Just save them.”

“So like your mother. Your lover’s spirit has the power to save as well as kill.” Klee turned and hugged her. “The prince’s enchantment has granted you one final gift as well. Be happy, my sweet girl.”

Confused again, Julianne held tightly to her aunt, and then fell into a long, dark tunnel that spun up, down and around as if it were some giant baton. She came out the other end as Shaw handed her to someone reaching up for her.

“Hold fast, Brother,” Fletcher said as he handed her off to Nyall.

The MacMar and the Selseus surrounded the sinking ship, the clan in smaller boats and the immortal aquatics in the water. In another moment Shaw would be sucked under the waves in the still-burning wreckage. Julianne ignored her injuries as she found her footing in the clan’s boat, and stood up to fling out her arms.

“Buster,” she called out. “Now you need to choose life, buddy, and save us. Me and Shaw and the guys. Right now.”

The ring on her finger glowed with blue and green lights, but it was a shining black magic that spun around the burning ship. It seized all the clansmen around her, and plucked Shaw from the deck before everything around them disappeared. A moment later she was standing on the white-sand shore of Caladh, with dozens of clansmen sprawled around her.

Julianne pressed a hand against the ink under her breast. “Good work, dude.”

“My lady?”

She looked over at her lover, who stared at her as if he’d never before seen her, and walked over to help him up. “Hey, Chief. That was not much fun, but at least we saved the kids and your bros.” Gently she put her hand on his tattooed arm, but the moment she touched him the soot fell away, exposing his inked skin. “So, looks like burns aren’t a problem for a half-Fae immortal. I’m glad, because you were looking a little well-done, my man.”

Shaw grabbed her and hauled her up against his soot-streaked chest, holding her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Just as quickly he released her, and took hold of her hands.

“Will you stay with me?” he asked, his voice rasping the words. “For I cannae live without you, my lass. Nor can the other. We love you so.”

“Same for me.” She ran her hand down his marked arm. “Only you can’t change your mind when things get tough, or I’m annoying, or your Big Bad makes you crazy. You really have to marry me, and stay with me and Buster no matter what. Okay?”

Shaw kissed her, and she didn’t even mind the charcoal taste of that, because in the middle of the kiss he began saying yes, whispering it against her lips and then laughing it out as he spun her around, before finally throwing his head back and shouting it to the skies.

No one dared go near the cabin as they sailed south to the mainland. After seeing the burning longboat sink, Derdrui had retreated there, and from the thudding and crashing sounds that followed she was taking out her ire on the furnishings. Speal sent a wordless surge of affection to her sisters, who shifted back into their customary forms and went about their duties. After some hours passed Mace brought food and drink to each before she came to the bow with a jug of cider and a handful of oatcakes.

“’Tisnae much, but ’twill keep you from swooning before we reach the meeting place.” A resounding bang from the cabin made her wince. “If we live so long.”

“Think naught of such.” To please her sister she took a sip from the jug, and a bite of one oatcake. The cider tasted sour, and the cake had gone stale. “Remember you that banquet we attended after the defeat of the Romans?”

“Aye, such a feast.” Mace sighed with longing. “That roast boar stuffed with pheasant I shall never forget. Nor the clootie dumplings with spiced currants and pears. Nor shall I ever again taste such delights.”

Speal wondered if the enchantress would slay them before they reached the meeting place, or would force them to continue on in perpetual servitude, sickening themselves by eating stores so old even swine would not touch them. This time none of her sisters had died while clashing with the MacMar’s woman, but the next time they might not be so lucky. How many more had to die before their sovereign took her vengeance? Why did they fight these battles when the clan had done nothing to the Cait Sith?

She knew Derdrui could hear her thoughts now, but made no effort to conceal or divert them. Perhaps she wished to die, or she could not bear living like this any longer.

“If I dinnae come out before sunset, you must take my place.” She pushed the jug and the remaining cakes into Mace’s hands, and went into the cabin.

The inside had been reduced to a shambles, as Derdrui had smashed every stick of furniture, shattered every lamp and pot, and even torn to shreds the bed linens and curtains. The sheer waste caused by the destruction left Speal speechless.

“How could you permit that overlarge whore to put hands on me?” the enchantress demanded, swaying on her feet. “Why did you stand there and watch when she tried to drop me in the sea?”

Always it was about her, and how the Cait Sith had failed her.

“You know we cannot swim,” Speal reminded her. “And you’ve never told us that water, ’tis your weakness.”

“It is not my weakness,” Derdrui screamed, so loudly that the cabin walls shook.

“Fae magic protected that changeling,” she reminded her. “Even so, you couldnae fight her, pished as you’ve been. Torment and end me if you wish to soothe your pride, but ’twillnae change your loss. We need help.”

“How long will it be before we reach the mainland?” the enchantress demanded, her chest heaving.

Speal picked up a torn robe and shook it out before wrapping the remains of it around Derdrui. “We shall arrive at the meeting place by midnight.”