Page 58 of Tair

“Like witness protection, okay, I understand.” Pam squeezed her fingers and gave her a reassuring smile. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Would her client remember any of this when she woke up? Lucy wondered.

“The man who ordered the murder is named Giovanni Rossi,” she told her client. “I believe Justin borrowed a lot of money from him and couldn’t pay it back.” She described the two men who had been at his apartment before she added, “Please call the police and let them know his name, Pam, but do it anonymously. I don’t want this criminal to send his killers after you.”

“I’ll be careful.” Her client nodded and then gave her a warm hug. “I’m so sorry I won’t see you again. You’ve done so much for me.”

“Be happy.” Lucy drew back as Pam vanished. When she looked over at the woman dozing on the bench, she saw her eyes flutter open. She seemed confused for a moment, and then put down the cat and hurried out of the garden.

She shall do as you bid, the voice that had saved both of their lives said. The lawmen shall soon capture those bastarts who murdered your former swain. They will pay with their lives.

That was how all of this balanced, Lucy thought. The men who had ended Justin would likely get the same. That balanced saving her and Pam’s lives.

“Thank you,” she said to the voice. Although she still had no love for her ex, she hoped this would at least bring his killers to justice. “That’s all I wanted.”

You lie, lass.

The garden disappeared, and Lucy found herself standing at the foot of the laird’s bed, and saw herself and her lover sleeping entwined under his tartan.

“All right, I want him, too,” she admitted. “If I’m honest, I want to spend the rest of our lives together. But I can’t share his life. I’ll grow old and die while he lives on, unchanged. It’s not fair for me to love this man.”

Make your wish, then, lass, and change your fate.

What could she wish for? The cluet couldn’t be used by mortals like her. Still, she could say it this once. “I want to love Tair MacRune forever.”

At your behest.

Chapter Sixteen

Amonth after the raid on the slave camp Tair sent for a druid who had been staying at Dun Maor. He didn’t tell her why, but it was so unlike him to ask an outsider to come to the island that Lucy immediately grew suspicious.

“Druid people hate the dark Fae, so why would this man help you?” she asked. “And why do you need help anyway?”

“You shall see when he arrives,” was all the laird would say.

Lucy retreated to the gardens to do some weeding, which was better than punching her fiancé in front of his men. She had just finished clearing out a bed of spiky chives when a short, slender man came in through the inner bailey gate. He appeared very young, like an adolescent, and had a sweet face with large, beautiful eyes. The embroidered robe he wore looked as if it had been made out of dark blue silk, which she knew to be outrageously expensive in this time. As she stood he stopped to bow, before continuing on into the stronghold.

After washing up at a rain barrel Lucy went in and found the druid talking to Tair in the great hall.

“If you’ll bid your vassals to leave us,” the young man said, “I shall then test the lady and answer you.”

Test the lady? Lucy thought, worried now. “Am I the one he’s testing?”

“Aye, wench. Dinnae toy with her, lad,” Tair warned before he shouted for the maids and sculleries to get out, which they did.

“You could be a little nicer,” Lucy murmured to him before she met Kiamh’s innocuous gaze. Something about him seemed a bit sad, although she couldn’t say why. “Right, then, they’re gone. What is this test you want to do?”

The young man reached out to her. “I’ve but to hold your hands in mine, my lady.”

She took hold of him, jumping a little at how cold his touch was. “We should get you some brew so you can warm up.”

“I’m ever chilled, my lady.” Kiamh released her, and held out his hands palm-up as he turned to the laird. “Forgive me, my lord, but I cannae bring your lady before the druid council. Your kind, they’re no’ welcomed by those who rule the magic folk.”

“My kind?” she echoed. “Do you mean women?”

“I speak of immortal kind.” When Tair made an impatient sound, he smiled at him. “If you dinnae believe me, you may prove such with a small cut.”

“He has to cut me?” she demanded, but the laird had already come to her and took hold of her wrist. He used his dagger to slice a shallow cut across her palm. “Ow, that bloody hurt.” She snatched her hand away, but when she went to press her sleeve against the wound she saw the cut closing. “Bollocks. It’s already healing.”