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“Agnes?”
“We all know the tales of the Fair Folks,” Agnes says. “How they come in the guise of beauty. How they bewitch our menfolk, seduce them, and then steal them away. I say she is a siren. One of the Fae come to steal and destroy for her own whimsical ends.”
I gasp in shock. A punch to the gut would hurt less. She’s still angry that Duncan and I are falling for each other. That’s the reason for everything she’s doing.
“Well enough,” Johnne says. “clan, you’ve heard the arguments. While I reserve the right of final judgment, I would know your thoughts. Those of you who believe Agnes, step to her side. Those of you who side with Aillig, stand with him.”
I’m going to be sick. I can’t look up, can’t count the bodies on either side. I hear people moving but I don’t know in which direction, and I don’t want to know. I don’t want to be outcast. I don’t have enough magic left to travel and I don’t have any skills that will let me survive in the Highlands on my own.
A raven caws and I shiver. This is one of those moments. A crossroads where every decision, every action, matters. I feel it in the weight of my heart. Know it by how hard it is to take a full breath.
“The clan has voted,” Johnne says. “And I cannot disagree with the majority.”
“No, Chief Johnne,” Duncan says.
I jerk my eyes up to him and the look on his face tells me everything I don’t want to know. They’ve voted to banish me.
“Duncan?” Johnne asks.
“If you banish her, I’m going with her.”
“You’d choose the Devil’s hands over your clan?” Agnes asks. “See? What further proof do you need to see she’s a temptress from Hell itself?”
“Agnes, I am a man of my word and my honor, and I will not stand by while you impugn me,” Duncan says. “Quinn has done nothing wrong. Is she strange? Aye. Can she do things I do not understand? Aye, she can. Does that make her a devil? If we label every strange thing we don’t understand as a devil, what kind of men would we be? Living in fear of the wind itself?”
“We’ll be a God-fearing folk the way the Almighty intended!” Agnes shouts to murmurs of agreement.
“Duncan, she’s not a MacGregor. I cannot choose her over the good of the clan,” Johnne says.
“What if she was?” Duncan asks, staring down Chief Johnne.
“What are you saying, lad?”
“I’m asking, all of you, what if she was a clanswoman? Would that change your views? If she’s clan, we cannot turn our back on her. That would bring dishonor to our name and legacy, would it not?”
“Aye, lad, but your point is moot,” Johnne says.
“No. No, it’s not.”
Duncan turns to me, and I can’t read his face but the steel in his eyes is unmistakable. He lowers himself to one knee, shifting his grip on my hand so he’s holding it between both of his. He stares up into my eyes. My heart pounds in my throat, mouth is dry, and my muscles quiver.
“Oh,” I gasp, unable to form more words.
“Quinn,” Duncan says, his voice husky. His eyes glisten, or maybe that’s only the tears in my own eyes blurring my vision. “Will you marry me?”
ChapterNineteen
I’m chokingon my own tongue as my cheeks flush nuclear. Eyes wide, I stare at Duncan with my mouth open, unable to speak. The clan is making noises but it’s distant, behind the thundering drums in my ears that is my own heart pounding.
A swelling sensation fills my chest and it’s as if I’m lighter than air. Nothing can hold me down until the cawing of the raven cuts through the rushing in my head. Darting my eyes up, standing in the shadows behind the clan is Dugald.
His dark eyes burn as he watches. His face is stoic, but when our eyes meet, I’m struck by the weight of our history. Not memories, but concepts. A knowingness that it was and that it could have been again.
The clan is watching, waiting for my response. It hasn’t been but seconds, though it feels much longer. The lump in my throat hurts, my mouth is dry, and I need to answer. That sense of standing at a crossroads. This decision will ring out through time, changing things in ways I can’t even begin to comprehend.
Mists drift in, covering the feet of all the watchers. Another sign that this is a moment. I don’t know the connection between the mists and magic, but there clearly is one. I do want to marry Duncan. I know that, but then why haven’t I said yes?
Because I want to marry Duncan because we choose. This isn’t our choice; the clan is forcing his hand. He’s not proposing because of his own desire but to protect me. How do I know this is real? Will he grow tired of me? Will we resent each other? Will we live long enough for those possible outcomes to happen?
