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“Aye, three days.”
My heart stops.
ChapterThirteen
“No,”I whisper.
Rob looks at me, grim faced as I tremble with rage and frustration.
“That’s barely enough time to get there,” I say, and Rob nods agreement.
“Two days,” Drever says. The group turns to him. His face flushes and he drops his eyes, shaking his head. “I can get us to the Isle of Skye in two days.”
“How?” Shaw asks.
Drever shrugs, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He clears his throat, raises his hand, then drops it but doesn’t answer.
“He can do it,” Gair says, stepping forward. “He’s the best. That’s all there is to it.”
Shaw frowns but there’s a knowing look on his face when he nods. Three children dash between the group of us, laughing as they chase each other. A boy trailing the group falls with a yelp. I kneel and he looks up with tear filled eyes.
“Let me see,” I say, taking his hands.
The moment I touch him a shock of cold passes into my hands and my eyes blur for an instant. When they clear the boy is no longer a boy; it’s a Fae, a changeling. He’s the same size and shape as the glamor he was wearing, but instead of a child he looks like a forty-something, dirt-covered man.
Before I speak, he places a finger over my lips and shakes his head with a knowing grin. He laughs then runs off after the other children. I watch him run, looking at the other children and around the camp, but he is the only Fae I see.
Calling him out now is a distraction that would only serve to seal Duncan’s fate, which makes it not even a choice. I stand up, returning my attention to the conversation that has gone on without me.
“We can’t return to your camp,” Drever says, “I’m good but not that good. If we’re to make it, we’ll have to leave from here.”
“Can you spare any more men? Or are there any along the way?” Rob asks.
“I’m giving you two of my best,” Shaw says, frowning and looking around his camp.
“It’s fine,” I say. “It will be enough.”
The other men look from me to Rob, who jerks and looks at me as if I grew a second head. Shaw scoffs loudly.
“Uh, Quinn, isn’t it?” Drever says.
“You are not going,” Gair states, his voice flat but his eyes burning.
Rob laughs, a sharp barking sound that is cut off with a wince when he brings his weight down on his bad leg.
“Yes. I am.”
Drever, Gair, and Shaw have disbelief written so clearly on their faces it could be a tattoo on their skin. I smile, confident because I know I’ll win.
“Quinn, it’s going to be dangerous,” Drever says.
“More dangerous than being hunted for your name?” I ask. “My man is there. I’m going.”
Gair’s eyes widen, and his mouth turns down. The sharp sting of regret pricks my heart. I could have let him down a lot easier than that, and in truth I didn’t think of it when I shot off my mouth. He seems a nice enough guy and I didn’t mean to hurt him.
“Give it up, boys,” Rob says. “You’ll not win. She’s as stubborn as a mule and twice as contrary as a drunken Irish.”
“And we don’t have time to argue. I assure you I won’t slow you down and I’m a healer, which you’re going to need, for those we rescue if nothing else.”
