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Malcolm took a step toward her, towering head and shoulders above her. “I am not a child, I am yer king,” he said darkly. “I command ye to give me what ye have.” No one had ever dared disobey him when he was in such a mood.
Morgana burst out laughing and lifted onto her toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “When has that ever worked on me?” she giggled. “Eat up.”
Nostrils flaring, Malcolm stabbed at a chunk of pork and brought it to his mouth, chewing furiously while holding out his hand to his sister.
“Your vegetables as well,” Morgana reminded him.
“Give it to me, or I’ll do ye violence,” he threatened. They both knew he wouldn’t. First, because he loved his sister and would never lay a hand on a woman, and second, because Baelsar Bloodborn, Morgana’s Berserker mate, would tear his limbs from his body and throw them in the tall grasses. Magick be damned.
With a gusty sigh, Morgana reached into her pocket and held up a piece of twine on the end of which the most perfect quartz crystal he’d ever seen reflected the light of the candles.
“Where did ye get that?” he breathed, snatching it away from her grasp.
“From a toad Bael and I met by the river.” Morgana shrugged. “And you’re welcome.”
“What were ye doing by the river?” Malcolm asked idly, running his fingers over the smooth, clear surface of the spear-shaped crystal. It fit in the palm of a hand, and would be the most effective scrying tool of all time.
When he glanced up, Morgana’s eyes were sparkling with that mischief again, and also with a lasciviousness that caused his belly to lurch with disgust.
“That’s revolting,” he spat.
“I said nothing,” Morgana sang innocently, all but dancing toward the door.
“Ye didna have to,” he complained.
“Now if you don’t finish your supper by the time I return in an hour, I’ll have Bael tie you up and shove it down your throat.” With that cheerful threat, she closed the door to his workshop behind her.
“I’d like to see him try,” he muttered to no one in particular.
Dinner forgotten, Malcolm retrieved the most recent map of his kingdom and uncurled it across his table. He murmured a Gaelic scrying spell as he sprinkled powdered mugwort, nutmeg, cinnamon, and yarrow onto the map. Licking his fingers, he let the crystal dangle over it and circle in the direction of the earth’s rotation.
After a few minutes, the crystal stilled and skewered the map with its sharp point.
The Caledonian Forest. Of course. Within its ancient black depths any myriad of evils could hide. It was said that Fairy Magick still protected some of the forest, and that could be blocking each of the de Moray’s attempts to find the Grimoire.
“Ha,” he crowed in triumph. “I’m coming for ye.” Grabbing his cloak and riding boots, Malcolm strode from his laboratory with vengeance lengthening his every step.
In his haste, he nearly knocked over his cousin, Kenna, when he rounded a corner on his way to the stables.
She jumped back into her mate, Niall’s, broad chest and the man steadied her with gigantic, yet gentle hands whist glaring daggers at Malcolm.
“Malcolm,” she exclaimed, her amber eyes glowing with genuine pleasure. “I haven’t seen you in ages, you’ve been so isolated in your cave. Where are you off to?”
“The Caledonian Woods,” he answered shortly, making to step around them.
“Going hunting are you?” she asked brightly, putting a fond hand on his arm.
“Aye.”
“For game or for herbs?”
For evil. “I must be on my way.”
“Of course.” She kissed him on the cheek, which produced a soft sound of protest from her looming mate. “Ride past the west gate on your way out. My love and his men are erecting spear-tipped fence posts that would stop a war horse. It’s really very clever.”
Clever? Malcolm met Niall’s light-eyed glare across Kenna’s head and spoke to him in Gaelic. “My people were mapping the stars and discovering the mysteries of the universe while ye Nordic barbarians were still dragging your knuckles in your own people’s blood and shit.”
Niall’s eyes narrowed even further with suspicion. “What did he just say to me?”
