Page 56 of Alec

Alec exchanged a look with Tasgall before the laird said, “The girl you saw, she’s Torra MacBren, his only daughter. The same daughter he demanded I wed before he was murdered.”

“Then she must have come here the same day the castle was removed from the twelfth century.” Ava thought back over what all the servants had claimed when she’d interviewed them. “The most popular theory the vassals have is that Torra cursed the clan to take revenge for her murdered parents. If she died like the two merchants, then she couldn’t have been the one who created the spell trap.”

“Why should she come to Dun Talamh to hide from the bastart?” Alec asked.

“He threatened her in some manner, enough to make her flee in fear for her life.” The laird regarded Olivia. “We must speak of the dream again, my lady, but for now ’tis better we search for a method to slay these beetles.”

“Fire and blunt force doesn’t work,” Ava had to point out, and then saw the surveyor frown at the salt in her hand. “What is it, Olivia?”

“The girl—Ms. MacBren—told me to use her to kill the matriarch beetle in the tower. She even showed me where it was. It must be the mother of all the other beetles.” She held up the salt. “I think she meant for me to use this.”

“Huh. Magical salt. Well, why not?” Ava said.

“’Twillnae prove easy, eluding the golachs to reach the tower,” Tasgall said.

“Here, my dreòlan.” Alec held out an empty pouch so Olivia could pour the salt inside. To the laird he said, “I shall go through the hidden passages. The golachs hunt us and our vassals, so they wouldnae bother to enter them.”

“You hope they didn’t,” Olivia said, getting to her feet. “I’m going with you.”

“’Tis too dangerous,” he argued. “You must remain here, where ’tis safe.”

“Safe it’s not, boy. The beetles will likely swarm the hall any minute, and then none of us can do squat,” Ava said, and smiled up at Tasgall after he handed Olivia a torch. “Thanks, my man.”

“I dinnae suppose you’d accompany them,” her husband said.

“Not on your life.” To Olivia she said, “Now go on and get up to that tower, pronto.”

She watched them go to the back of the hall, where Alec moved the faux stone panel hiding the entrance to the hidden passage behind it. With one last, long look at them Olivia went inside, followed at once by the war master with his bow held ready. Ava sighed and got to her feet, sliding her arms around her husband.

The beetles finally breeched the piles of others stuck to the sills and poured into the hall like small, glittering waterfalls.

“Never thought I’d see the day when Alec McKeran would act like a lovesick teenager,” she said as she leaned against Tasgall’s massive body. Although he would always be an immensely strong man, it was the tenderness with which he always touched her that comforted her. “That girl’s going to have her hands full with him.”

“I never imagined I’d see my war master in love,” the laird said as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. “If ’tis any way Alec may reach the matriarch, I ken he shall.”

“Me, too.” The sound of insectile scuttling made her close her eyes. “I love you, my wonderful husband.”

“And I you, my beautiful wife.” Tasgall tipped back her head, stroking his hands over her hair before he kissed her.

As the numbness crept up Ava’s legs, she found she didn’t care. If she had to spend all of eternity frozen, then being in her lover’s arms and kissing him while she did would be just fine with her.

After seeing through the window scroll that most of Dun Talamh had been encased in enchanted ice, Bodach knew he could finally enter the trap and search for his treasure unimpeded. He left the dungeons to return to the entry to the spell trap, where he retrieved his butterfly wings from his cache. The protective shrouds and his small size would keep the enchantment from immediately flinging him out, and with the clan frozen there was no risk of any other hindrance.

“Do you mean to go in there, Master?” Clagden asked.

He’d been so delighted by seeing the success of his ice beetles through the scroll that he’d forgotten to check for any sign of intruders. The last thing he needed was his treacherous servant around when he took on his insect guise; Clagden couldn’t kill him, of course, but he could injure him enough that it would require all of Bodach’s power to heal himself. If the changeling had some means with which to imprison him while he was helpless, he could become as trapped as the McKeran Clan.

Nothing Clagden could ever do for him was worth that risk.

“Not now.” Quickly Bodach tucked the silver shrouds inside his jacket pocket. “I know you must be hungry, and I need to rest tonight.” He made a shooing gesture. “You may go.”

The changeling grimaced. “I promised my betrothed that I would dispose of the bookkeeper.” He retreated into the shadows and returned with the limp body of the mortal female over his shoulder. “May I throw her into the spell trap?”

“Certainly not.” Bodach went over and pressed two fingers against the side of the woman’s throat. “She’s not even dead yet. If you shove her inside, she’ll be healed by the enchantment. She’ll then tell the clan about what she remembers.” When Clagden shrugged, he added, “Such as what happened between you and Jean at the gallery. That will tell them that your little friend was involved with dark Fae.”

“Mortals cannot remember how Jean and I use them,” the changeling said, and patted the bookkeeper’s bottom. “She would only remember you, and what you did to her, Master.”

Is he trying to threaten me? “I erased myself from her memory before I left, dear boy. Kill her and dispose of her remains elsewhere—that prison, perhaps, where you used to feed on the inmates.”