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“Quinn, ya can’t know all that. No one can know the future, lass. It’s nae possible.”
This is it. I should shut my mouth now. Figure out some other way, but how? I can’t not tell him. He’ll listen. He feels for me too; I’m sure he does.
“I do know. I know!” I blurt out.
His face darkens and he pulls back.
“No. You cannae. It’s not possible. Don’t ya realize it’s talk like this that keeps ya on the outs with the other womenfolk? They hear ya talkin’ like this and that’s why they’re thinking you’re a witch.”
As he speaks, frustration builds in my chest. The pressure increases with every word he says until it erupts into anger.
“What of it?” I snap. If this is what it takes to get him to help stop this, then so be it. They want a witch; I’ll give them a witch. “I do know and if that makes me a ‘witch’ or whatever you want to label me, then I am. Fine.”
“Quinn, you’re nae being yourself.”
I try to stand and almost fall as my feet tangle in the long skirt. Duncan leaps up and catches me, keeping me from falling, but I jerk free of his hands.
“How would you know?”
I glare, daring him to challenge me. He stares, thoughts racing across his face as plain as day, then at last he shrugs.
“I know you,” he says. He pauses, takes a deep breath, then shakes his head. “I cannae pretend to understand, but I feel like I’ve always known ya. Forever like.”
“Me too,” I say in a hoarse whisper.
We stare at each other for a long time. My heart thumps in my chest as he takes my hands in his. His hands are rough and warm, and a small part of me wants to feel those hands all over my body.
“Ya have to stop this,” he says, a note of pleading to his voice. “You’re scared. That’s fine, but ya cannae be saying things like this. Trust me, it will all be fine.”
It won’t and I know it. I’m standing at a crossroads. I can keep my secret, keep my mouth shut, and walk away. Except if I do that, then he might die. Some of these people I’ve come to know will for sure.
I can’t. I can’t leave it.
“It won’t,” I whisper, looking up and meeting his eyes. I clear my throat and blink away my tears. “I know. I can’t tell you how, but you have to believe me. I know and it’s bad. I can’t tell everyone, but you can. Advise Chief Johnne, convince him to not go to war. You have to.”
“Quinn, you’re talking as if ya really are a witch.”
“What if I am? Does it matter? Does it change the way you feel about me? ’Cause I’m telling you, I feel the same about you. I do but you must believe me. I know this is bad.”
“How? How can ya know?”
I chew my lip, trying to come up with an answer that makes sense. I have to convince him so I lean into the one thing that might work.
“Sometimes, I get glimpses of the future,” I say. “I see bits and pieces. I know things.”
“Quinn…” He says my name, letting his voice trail off. He looks away, not meeting my eyes, then he makes the sign of the cross. My stomach roils, forcing acid to burn a painful path up my throat. “Only the Devil can grant ya sight of the future. Is that what your—”
“Or the fae,” I interject.
He stops, staring at me, then he nods slowly and drops my hands. My arms hang heavily at my sides. I don’t have the strength to lift them on my own.
“I’m going back now,” he says and turns his back.
“Duncan!” I yell. “Please. You have to believe me.”
“No,” he says without turning around. “I do nae. If’n you’re smart as I believe ya to be, you’ll keep this to yourself. Do nae be spreading your words around.”
He strides away, leaving me alone on the highlands. My heart shatters with each step away he takes.
