Page 41 of Unveiled

Adrian inclined his head. “Indeed we do.”

After brief introductions, everyone was seated.

Piper leaned forward, warm as ever. “Smells heavenly in here, Moira. Did you put rosemary in the bread?”

Moira preened. “Ach, someone has taste. But it was Angie doing the baking, not me.”

“You have a wonderful set of stone wolves at the entrance to your home, Connor,” said Adrian. “They are almost real. Except I did see one was missing an ear.”

Connor nodded. “We had another vicious storm about a month ago, and in the process, the wolf on the right—she’s called Luna—was damaged by a fallen tree. Nero on the left fared better. A local sculptress made them. Her name’s Violet Brinkman and she’s a true artist.”

He winked at Fraser, who glared at him. Connor knew he had a thing for Violet. It was about time the two of them got together.

The tension thinned, and the air in the room grew warmer.

Connor cleared his throat, forcing the room’s attention onto him. “You all know by now that Glengáill, this village from another world, didn’t fall out of the sky.” His gaze swept the room, lingering on the worried faces of his clan. “It was brought here. And not by accident.”

Garrett snorted. “Aye, that’s not exactly comforting.”

Adrian cut him a look sharp enough to slice bone. “You’ll let him speak, Garrett.” He grumbled but obeyed.

Slowly, before the room filled with stunned faces, Connor and Adrian recounted the story of how Glengáill came to be, and why. Murmurs turned to silence, and as expected, panicked questions began in a never-ending stream.

“What exactly is the Council of Veils? What power do they hold?”

“Why were the Valours chosen?”

“Does the binding grow stronger? Does it…fuse them?”

“Is war coming to the valley?”

“What is the mark’s purpose?”

Between them, the two Kings tried to reply, but the shouts were getting louder, and fear became a heavy blanket.

Adrian and Connor looked at each other. “Enough,” they thundered together. And the noise ceased.

“Slow it down,” Adrian commanded. “One at a time, please.” He inhaled deeply. “In answer to that last question, I don’t know the exact reason for the mark or why it chose me. But the mark is waking.”

Gasps rippled through the hall. Piper stepped closer to him. Fraser clenched his jaw, and Max’s entire body went still.

“It reacts to magic,” Adrian continued. “To the Council. To Nightwrought beings, whatever the hell they are. And apparently,” his voice faltered for a heartbeat,” to Connor.”

The murmuring intensified. Connor raised a hand and silence fell.

“We’re linked,” he said simply. “Bound. Valours.”

The word hung heavy in the air, throbbing with questions.

“The bond is not a curse,” Adrian said gently. “But it is a warning. A tool. A demand.”

Garrett’s voice cut through the tension. “A demand for what?”

Adrian smiled faintly. “Unity.”

Connor stepped forward. “There’s something coming. Something worse than shadows in the woods. Worse than storms that pull towns apart. If we stand divided, we’ll fall divided. Xiathen has explained that the Veil is thinning. The Council of Veils, whoever or whatever the hell they are, sent that storm. The village didn’t escape him. The Council moved it.”

The murmuring swelled, and Fraser leaned forward. “And it’s no’ the worst of it.”