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“Mother,” Sorcha found herself whispering as tears filled her closed eyes and leaked out to roll down her cheeks.
Suddenly her memory shifted.
She skipped around tents in the descending darkness, delighted by the music and the people gathered. To her left was the loch, and to her right, high on the rocks, was a magnificent castle that seemed to rise to the sky. She realized on a sharp intake of breath that this memory was of Dunvegan.
Then her memory shifted again.
Her stomach fluttered as she stood in a line of men and listened to the MacLeod laird—it was Iain!—explain the contest. She took aim, allowing the men to shoot first to gain an advantage. Excitement bubbled, and her heartbeat exploded as a man turned his piercing green eyes on her—Cameron. He smiled, and she felt as if she was melting on the inside, something warm and tingly filled her.
She cried out in dismay when the memory shifted again.
She was running from him and laughing. She wanted him to catch her just to be near him again, but she could not let him do so because she’d be discovered. She whipped around to gaze upon him one last time, for she feared she would never see him again, and her eyes met first his and then a pair of violet eyes that seemed to know her secrets—Eolande.
Sorcha’s eyes flew open and locked on Eolande’s probing gaze. Sorcha’s heart pounded viciously in her chest as she looked at their interlocked hands. “Can ye give me all my memories?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“Nay,” Eolande said. “Only ones that are relevant to ye from when we first met. I am sorry,” Eolande said gently. “I would give yer memories back to ye if I could, but dunnae fash yerself, verra soon now ye will remember important things, and once ye start recalling yer life, ye will have choices to make.”
Sorcha inhaled a shaky breath. “Ye see that I remember soon?”
Eolande nodded as she curled her fingers tighter around Sorcha’s hand. Fighting back the fear of what she might hear, she asked, “What else do ye see?”
Eolande’s violet eyes almost glistened as she stared at Sorcha. “I see an attack verra soon that will cause a change. A betrayer whom ye care for and fear. A passion that will nae be denied between ye and Cameron that will either sink with the weight of heavy lies or rise with powerful love. But if the love blooms, many vines will threaten to destroy it. There is a claim upon yer body that will supersede the one upon yer heart, and to free ye, Cameron will forgo his honor.”
“Nay!” Sorcha tried to wrench her hand away, but Eolande increased her grip.
“Two deaths,” she hissed. “Two deaths will come to pass.” Eolande released her suddenly, staggering away from her as Sorcha staggered back, too.
“Whose deaths?” she demanded as she righted herself.
Eolande shook her head. “I did nae see who, but they will break yer heart.”
Sorcha felt a sob lodge in her throat. Was it Cameron? Was it someone from her family? “These things ye see,” she said urgently, “these things can be changed, aye?”
“Aye,” Eolande said, an amused smile coming to her pale face. “As I have always said, I foretell yer future as it comes to me at the moment I touch ye, yet all our futures—mine, as well—can change with our choices.”
As the seer started to turn from her, Sorcha gripped Eolande’s arm. She swiveled back toward her, surprise etching her face. Sorcha rushed out, “But I dunnae ken what choices to make to ensure the terrible things ye foretold dunnae come true.”
“Nay, ye dunnae. Trust yer heart,” she said simply, but then her face clouded and a faraway look came over her. She twisted her hand upward and gripped Sorcha’s forearm. “I see a parting of ways between ye and Cameron, and a looming battle. Once parted, ye will nae be reunited—”
“Ye weeban-druidhfairy,” Bridgette growled, her footsteps pounding from behind Sorcha. Bridgette must not have left the cave.
Sorcha gasped at Bridgette calling Eolande a witch. She feared what the seer might do, but seconds later, when Bridgette appeared, eyes flashing and a scowl on her face, Eolande gave her an amused smirk, which only served to deepen Bridgette’s scowl. “Yer foretelling was the reason I almost lost Lachlan!”
“Nay, Bridgette,” Eolande snapped. “Yer fear was the reason ye almost lost him, which was surprising, given how verra braw I ken ye are.”
Bridgette stood there, opening and closing her mouth, as if she wanted to argue the seer’s words but could not find the proper response.
Eolande waved a dismissive hand. “Make haste back to Dunvegan, but do so with yer weapons drawn.”
“Wait!” Sorcha gasped. “What of the parting? We will nae be reunited ever?”
The seer shrugged. “I kinnae say. The link to the foretelling was broken.” With that, Eolande turned, strode toward the smaller cave, and disappeared within. As one, Bridgette and Sorcha raced to follow her, but inside the dark cave, they found nothing. No seer and no way to get out of the cave.
Sorcha shivered as gooseflesh prickled her skin. “She’s magic,” she whispered.
“Aye,” Bridgette replied, awe in her voice. “It’s fearful and fascinating at once.”
Sorcha nodded her agreement as she reached behind her and withdrew her bow. “Where are Marion and Broch?”
