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“That I don’t know,” I say. “But I know what the history books say.”
“There are books about my people?”
“Yeah,” I say, pursing my lips.
I need to keep my mouth shut. What if I tell him too much? What if I say the wrong thing and completely bone history? Change it all? My guts twist into a cold, icy knot. I’ve been so self-absorbed I hadn’t even considered the implications of what I’m doing.
You are the Destroyer. The choice is always yours.
“Sounds amazing,” he says. “What else can ya tell me? About the future, where you come from?”
I smile and touch his arm. “It’s not grand. Trust me. And I’d best not say more.”
“But how do we know?” he asks. “All the tales say the Fae are not to be trusted. At the very least, they're working for their own, unknowable ends. I can trust you, Quinn, but trusting the Fae? That’s a wee bit harder to swallow.”
“Don’t. Don’t trust them. Believe me, I don’t.” Even as I say it, I see him die again, in my head. Again and again, it’s running on a loop at the edge of my awareness. I have to wonder if I’m being misled by the Fae? Is it all a lie? Some kind of sick manipulation? I don’t know he dies. Are they using my knowledge to push me towards what they want me to do? “We need to keep moving.”
“Right,” he says, shaking his head. “Fae and girl from the future.”
“Yeah,” I say as we run.
We don’t bother trying to talk. The sun begins its descent towards the horizon and still we run. Dark clouds form on top of the mountains. Streaks of lightning dance across the sky, electric fingers stretching out as Mother Nature prepares to assert her dominance.
When the wind picks up and blows across us, I’m grateful for its cool breath. Exhaustion weighs me down. It feels like I’ve been carrying a massive pack on my back. Every step, my muscles protest, flashing hot pain as they tremble. My breath burns in and out of my lungs. I’m not sure how long I can keep going.
Duncan seems tireless, an endless well of strength and energy. He doesn’t even seem to be breathing heavy, not like I am. He could be out on a stroll across his beautiful homeland. The sky darkens as we run, too early for night fall. The stormfront is overtaking us and there’s nothing we can do. I can’t run any faster.
“How much further?” I pant.
Duncan looks around before answering. “We’re not tha’ far. The last I knew, the plan was to find them at Glen Fruin. We’re nae far from it now.”
Glen Fruin. I remember the name. The MacGregors were outnumbered, almost eight hundred Colquhouns marching into the Highlands while the MacGregors numbered only four hundred. And yet they’ll win. They’ll win the battle but lose a war they don’t even know they’re fighting.
“You should run ahead,” I say as I stumble to a stop. “I’m past my second, third, and fourth wind. I can’t go on.”
The stitch in my side won’t quit. I can’t get a deep enough breath no matter how I try. Duncan touches my face, stooping down so he’s looking into my eyes.
“That I cannae do,” he says. “I’ll nae leave your side, Quinn.”
“Duncan, I—”
An enormous cracking sound cuts me off.
Chapter Thirty-One
I jump in surprise, hunching even as I try to look in all directions at once for the source of the terrifying sound. Duncan jerks on my arm and pulls me down into a crouch next to him. He isn’t looking around wild-eyed; he’s pointing in the direction we were running.
“Stay low,” he says, and I barely hear him as the sounds of screaming men reach us followed by more guns firing and the clash of steel on steel.
“We’re too late,” I say, despair making my voice quaver.
“Aye,” he says.
It’s done, the Fae Queen said. Caill had also said I was already too late.
They can’t be right. This can’t be it. I can’t give up, not when we’re this close.
“Duncan, what if—” I cut myself off as the vision of him running onto the field of battle pushes to the front of my thoughts. What if he wasn’t with the original group? What if that happens now? What if it happens next? “We need to leave. We need to run.”
