Page 57 of Duncan

“You stupit wenches reckon the MacMar shall protect you and your families, when one of the monsters already walked among us in another shape?” Angalan spat on the ground. “Fack the clan. I shall take me and mine on the ferry for the mainland.”

As the herbalist stalked off on the forest trail, the other women glanced at each other before they went toward the village.

IN THE THINNING darkness just before dawn, Nicole walked with Duncan back to the stronghold, followed by Nyall and most of the garrison. Despite their ability to heal each other, the hours she had spent with him treating the wounded had been exhausting; blood stained her clothing and the terrible smell from the shifters the men had killed still clung to her. The twenty-two vassals who died before they could reach them would be buried in the glen alongside the members of their families who had passed away before them, and both she and Duncan had been invited to come to the mass funeral.

“Come report with me before you retire,” Nyall asked Duncan, and looked at her. “If you would as well, my lady. The laird shall wish hear all the details.”

Connal had gathered all his senior chieftains in the great hall, and listened without comment as his captain related details about the skirmish, and the number of villagers lost. Valerie and Meg joined them, and some of the servants came to stand in the archways and listen, many crying softly as Nyall described the villagers’ bravery during the attack.

Nicole wished she could help them with their sadness, but her efforts in the village to heal the wounded had left her very shaky. She couldn’t imagine how Duncan handled this work alone every single day. Then she noticed a hooded, cloaked figure standing with two guards behind the laird, and saw a lock of dark hair peeking out of the hood.

Why had they brought Fiacail to the hall?

“Mistress Fairburn,” the laird said, startling her. “We’ve a report that you’re a witch that bespelled the shifters so they would attack the village.”

“’Twas Angalan, aye?” Duncan made a disgusted sound. “She attacks my lady so she might harm me through her. Bring her here and I shall force her admit ’tis all lies.”

“You shall do naught, Healer.” Connal nodded to two guards, who came and seized Duncan’s arms. To Nicole he said, “’Tis a serious charge against you, Mistress. What say you?”

“It’s complete nonsense.” She glanced at Valerie, expecting her to defend her, but the laird’s wife looked just as grim. “I have no reason at all to hurt the villagers.”

“You discovered I didnae intend permit you leave Caladh,” Connal said, his expression growing remote and chilly. “You told us many lies, such as your name, and that you share blood with the Fae. You refuse tell us what sort of Fae blood you possess. For all I ken you’re a Therion shifter who serves the enchantress.”

“You’re mad,” Duncan told him, his expression darkening.

“No, he’s partly right. I’ve lied to all of you about who I am, and I’m sorry.” Nicole slowly curtseyed. “My mother was the Princess Sylvaen, Eilonwy’s younger sister. My father was her mortal lover, so I am a halfling like the MacMar.” She glanced at Valerie. “Please forgive me for deceiving you.”

“I shallnae.” Connal walked around her, studying her as if she were an interesting insect. “Every calamity served upon my clan, ’tis come from my sire’s love for that wretched princess. Now you tell me her blood courses through your veins.”

“No one can pick their relatives.” She squared her shoulders. “My aunt was very clear about what the Fae would do to me if they discovered I was Sylvaen’s daughter. She told me to hide what I am, and never to let anyone know about my mother or my Fae heritage.”

“There, she’s explained,” Duncan said. “End this, Brother.”

“The lady didnae trust us, when we’re the same as she.” The laird looked disgusted now. “How may we ever trust her again?”

Nicole wondered if he even heard himself. “You certainly don’t trust anyone outside your clan. Your father created Caladh so you could hide away from the world here. When mortals leave the island, you make Merrick wipe their memories so they won’t speak of the MacMar or the island to outsiders. You haven’t even been completely honest with your brothers about why Derdrui wants to murder all of you.”

The laird stiffened. “You ken naught of our affairs, my lady.”

“As it happens I know everything. Prince Mar made the enchantress believe he loved her so he could use the Therion she ruled during an ancient war between the Fae,” she told him. “Once his side won, he dumped her and married my aunt, his real love. That’s why Derdrui wants revenge. Merrivane told me everything.”

“My sire would never promise to wed the enchantress,” the laird muttered.

“No, and I’m sure because the Fae can’t lie that he was very careful about what he said to her. She was just too much in love with him to be on her guard.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Eilidh step through an archway, her avid gaze fixed on the laird. “Are you going to punish me for protecting myself? Because you have another, much more serious problem to deal with right now.”

“Aye, ’twas the reason for my farce this morn. My apologies, my lady.” Connal gave her a wink before he said in a louder voice, “Take her, lads.”

A group of guards came up behind the fascinated maid and swiftly encircled her. One tossed a net over her as she tried to dart between two of them, but it still took all of the men to drag her to the ground. She screeched and fought, her body writhing as she changed form from a replica of Eilidh to that of a small, fair-haired girl and then a hybrid.

The two guards holding Duncan released him, and the healer strode up to the laird, his hands knotting into fists. “You tormented and terrified my lady just so you might catch a shifter?”

“’Tis what I reckoned would draw her out of the shadows,” Connal told him, and patted his shoulder. “Go and clean up, for we shall need you both when we question the hybrid.”

“She shallnae tell you any truth, my lord. The enchantress yet controls her.” Fiacail pulled back her hood as she approached the trapped shifter. “Or did you come to save me, Dearg?”

“Why should I care for a traitor like you?” The hybrid punched her hand through the net and clawed at her with long talons that shot out from the tips of her fingers. “I shall rip out your throat this time, Fia, and then end that Woodland Fae slut’s whelp.”

“You were the one who tried to strangle me,” Nicole said.