Page 53 of Tair

“If you can’t tell me the truth, just say ‘you dinnae need ken’ like Tair does,” Lucy advised him gravely.

“’Tis for fashioning a weapon of my own design. I’m no’ one to wield swords and such, even in the dark of night.” Lochran drew the bundle of nettles out of the quiver. “You see? Dinnae touch, for their bite, ’tis most unpleasant and lasts for threeday.”

“I’ve run into stinging nettles before in my time,” she assured him. “How well does it work? I can’t see giving someone a bad rash as a weapon.”

“’Twill depend on how you wield the thing.” He replaced the bundle before gesturing to his blindfold. “Lash an attacker across the eyes with nettles, and ’twill blind him for a day or more.”

“But no permanent damage. That’s interesting.” She bumped her arm against his. “How did you think up something like this?”

“The healer in the village promised my lady màthair Senga ’twould cure my affliction, and permit me see in daylight.” He grimaced, recalling those terrible days he’d suffered the treatment. “As you ken, ’twasnae successful.”

“Your mother let the healer do that to you?” Lucy sounded angry now.

“She believed his claims at first.” He shrugged. “Once the swelling went down and I could see at night again, Senga went to his dwelling and gave him a thrashing with stinging nettles. She then bid the headman find a healer who wouldnae punish the sick and injured as that eejit had.”

“I like your mom.” She hesitated before she said, “Sorry. All of you have lost your families by now, haven’t you?”

“Some yet have kin living, but Tair arranged matters so that they believe us all long dead. ’Twas a kindness for our kin,” he added when Lucy made a soft, mournful sound. “Our sire’s blood gives us all many boons we share with the dark Fae. We shall never grow sick or age, but remain ever and always unchanged. Those who desire immortality would envy and despise us if they learned of our nature. Out of spite some might move against the clan in hopes of destroying us.”

“No wonder you don’t want outsiders finding out about your secrets,” she said, her sadness obvious. “All you really have is each other.”

He shook his head. “Our vassals, they’re mortal, yet they willingly pledge to serve the clan and protect our secrets with each new generation. They’ve never once betrayed the clan. We’ve a few allies here in the highlands that we trust as well. ’Tisnae a dreadful life for men with dark blood, Mistress Brooke.”

“I agree. I think it’s admirable.” She let out a long breath. “I’m not one to carry weapons, either. Would you make a nettle whip for me? I’m joining you on the raid tonight.”

“So I’ve been told.” He turned to her. “Give me your hand so I may measure your grip.”

Chapter Fourteen

Lucy kept close to Tair as the raiding party finished tying off their boats and gathered on the embankment. All the men had worn dark clothing, and painted their faces, necks and hands with a sooty salve they called masking, which was similar to the eyeblack that athletes used in her time. The laird had given her a cloak with a deep hood to wear instead of putting the gunk on her face, which she appreciated. She planned to stay right beside Lochran and follow his orders, because Tair had told her otherwise he’d tie her up beside his mount in the forest while the rest of them raided the camp.

“What do you see, my lord?” Cath asked.

Lucy watched as Tair’s eyes took on a glittering golden hue, without a single flame nearby. He turned them to the countryside.

“They’ve stopped near the oak grove north of the village,” he said.

Although Lucy followed his gaze, the landscape was impenetrably dark.

“We shall divide ourselves and come in from each side,” Cath said. “Lochran, you’ll attend to the captives with your men while our lord and our party shall lead the attack. Our scouts claim this one-eyed bastart who runs the caravan hired a dozen more men to guard them, so you’ll need be quick.”

“Aye,” Tair said, nodding at the group. “The battle, ’twill be swift. To your duties now.” As the men went to their mounts, he pulled her behind a tree trunk.

“I suppose I won’t get to use my nettle whip,” she said.

“Keep that at hand.” The laird took her into his arms and kissed her breathless before holding her close. “Dinnae stray near the fighting. If the slavers break through and come at you, run to Lochran.”

She looked up at him, annoyed and touched at the same time. “I’ll be careful, if you will.”

He pressed her head against his chest, and then tugged her around the tree and went to his horse. To the other men he said, “Remember, we’re here to save lives, no’ end them.”

Lucy watched him and Cath ride off toward the east, and then turned to find Lochran leading his horse over to her. Something about his eyes seemed strange—as if they were lit from within by a dark coppery glow.

“It’s a little strange not to see you in a blindfold,” she admitted.

“’Tis a wee bit strange for me to see you at all.” He offered her his hand, and when she took it boosted her up onto his saddle. Once he swung up behind her, he said, “We must go as quietly as we can to the slaves’ cages and release them. Once they’re free we shall guide them away from the fighting. Keep sight of me, my lady.”

The ride through the dark forest turned out to be fast and a little rough as thin branches lashed them along the way. The horses seemed trained to dodge the trees and undergrowth, however, and the men followed in single file without making much noise at all. When Lucy saw a campfire burning just ahead of them, Lochran pulled her hood forward to shadow her face. He then guided his mount to one side where a group of old trees surrounded an uneven circle of carved stones.