Page 57 of Highland Storm

With skinned legs and bloodied fingers, Kellen had retreated to his chamber to console his poor wife, who had yet to recover her sight.

No one could quite make out Constance’s story, but as best as they could decipher, she had gone down into the tunnel below Una’s grotto, after finding the door ajar. She found Una lying prayerfully upon the ground, next to the altar bearing the Stone from Scone. She read aloud from the plaque, she’d said—a scripture Aidan knew by rote.

Unless the fates be faulty grown

And prophet’s voice be vain

Where’er is found this sacred stone

The blood of Alba reigns.

And then light exploded, blinding the girl, shattering the caverns like glass. Like their beloved kinswoman, the stone called clach-na-cinneamhain was now lost. It was once the destiny of his people, but now they would be guardians nevermore.

Swallowing the contents of his tankard whole, Aidan slammed his cup down on the table, and poured himself another, tears stinging his smoke-red eyes. “Lael, Cat and Keane must be told,” he said to no one in particular.

“And Cameron,” Cailin added. “He may not realize his sister has wed our brother.”

Another moment of excruciating silence.

“We’ll send a messenger to Keppenach,” Lìli suggested. “The winter has been mild enough. The road is not yet unpassable.”

“I’ll go,” Lachlann offered.

“As will I,” Auld Fergus said.

“Just the two of you,” Aidan agreed, his throat scarce allowing words to pass. “We will need every pair of hands to continue the search.”

Lìli gave him a look filled with sorrow and tears spilled down her cheeks. “Aidan… we have heard not a sound from the caverns below. The tunnels are sealed, my love.”

Sorcha said softly, raising her head, “She canna live without…” She swallowed the rest of her words.

Auld Fergus stood and raised another toast. “What’s that she oft said?”

May those who mùirn us mùirn us;

And those who dinna mùirn us,

May the Cailleach turn their hearts:

And if She wadna turn their hearts

May she turn their ankles,

Sae we’ll know ’em by their gimp.

“Here’s to us,” toasted Lachlann, with a throaty voice that sounded full of gravel.

“Wha’s like us?” added Sorcha sadly, in the absence of her youngest brother, who would often say the words.

And Aidan, with glassy eyes and a gruff voice, finished the toast for the rest, “Damned few,” he said. “And they’re all dead.”

Auld Fergus sighed wearily. “Guess she weren’t no Cailleach, after all.”

With the first light of morning, Keane rose from the chair he’d slept in and wandered close to the bed.

She hadn’t had any true notion what to expect from the marriage bed, but this was not it. The look Keane had given her last night had turned her flesh to ice, and the tone of his voice engendered tears she’d refused to shed. Whilst he’d sat staring into the brazier during the long night, alone in the bone-chilling darkness, she’d lain in the bed they were meant to share, curled up as far away from the stain of his blood as she could possibly get.

For a moment, Lianae could feel him standing there, a shadow behind her lids, but she daren’t open her eyes to see what he was doing. He lingered but a second before turning and walking out the door and in his absence, the room felt colder and more barren than before.