Highland Fire (Guardians of the Stone) (36 page)

Una watched her ground the dried valerian root, saying little, and Lìli dared to ask her then about the curse, hoping to distract her from the concoction she was making. Anyway, what good would all her work be if Aidan was still fated to die?

As though her leg troubled her, the old woman shifted her weight upon her staff and said, “All that we are, child—all that we become—arises from the depths of our hearts. Be the two of ye as one and even death willna part ye.”

Lìli considered the old woman’s answer, but was still not appeased. She did not want merely to be connected to Aidan in spirit. She wanted him present body and soul, flesh and blood. The possibility of losing him now was heart-rending!

While images of Aidan’s demise darkened Lìli’s thoughts, the old woman continued. “’Tis impossible to unshed blood, or call back words spoken in anger. And yet I once heard it said that forgiveness is the remission of sins,” she concluded. “If there is hope, it must be found there.”

Lìli frowned and peered down at the pestle in her hand. Forgiveness? For what she was about to do? Was the old woman predicting bloodshed over her schemes? Or was she saying perhaps that Lìli ought to forgive them for the misery she had suffered over the damnable curse? In truth she had already found forgiveness in her heart, for if the old woman had never cursed her, she would have never found her way to Aidan and she loved him with all her heart.

Frustrated by the answer she received, she ground away at the valerian root, reducing it to dust. It seemed everything Una did or said was shrouded in some form of mystery, and yet the woman never truly confessed to any sort of magic at all. For all anyone knew, she might be simply an eccentric old crone, although Lìli sensed something otherworldly about her. Nor could she forget the blinding sensations that had assaulted her when she had touched the woman’s scrying stone—that flash of light that had filled her head at the moment of connection. As yet, Lìli had not admitted to being in her grotto, but she sensed Una knew.

The old woman’s green gaze was canny—eye-color much like Aidan’s and his siblings’—but they were reserved today as she watched Lìli set the crushed valerian root aside.

More and more, Una had been coming about—betimes helping, betimes simply watching. And betimes Lìli thought she might simply be keeping an eye on her. Sometimes Sorcha also came to watch and help, and during those times Una sometimes told them stories of the early days of Dubhtolargg.

She told Lìli about a chieftain—a man who had followed his sire up the mount, full of doubt. His father died, Una said, and the new chieftain buried him up on the ridge—beneath the same cairn she had spied coming into the vale—and then he nearly went back down the mountain, plagued by doubt and grief. Apparently, he had been visited by a faerie, with whom he later fell in love, and it was their offspring who dwelled here now. It was a fanciful story—one Sorcha seemed to love. After hearing it, she ran out of the room, searching for someone to whom she could recount the tale.

Once she was gone, Una turned to her and said, “’Tis true what they say… sisters are merely different flowers from the same garden.”

“I would love to have had one,” Lìli replied absently. It had long been her secret wish—far less lamented now that she felt, at last, a kinship with Aidan’s people. For so long she’d had no one at all.

“Ach, the eyes are blind!” Una railed unexpectedly. “
See
with your heart, child!” And then shaking her head as though with disgust, she hobbled away with her staff, leaving Lìli to look after her as she went muttering out the door.

But then suddenly, as Lìli stared out into the darkened hall… and she heard Sorcha’s voice telling Keane the tale somewhere nearby, the tenor of her laughter so familiar… And in that instant, Lìli grasped the true depths of her father’s sins, and she blinked, understanding.

Sorcha, the little girl who had embraced her long before any of Aidan’s kinsmen had—was her sister by blood. And once Lìli knew it, she knew it deep down in her soul, like a perfect truth uncovered by the light. The realization left her dazed. It would explain how and why she had felt so connected to this place from the instant she had ridden into the glen.

She was bound here already by blood.

With the approach of twilight, the echo of steel on steel ceased to ring through the hills.

Aidan craved solitude, needing to feel the sting of cold upon his flesh. Stripping fully, he stood beside Caoineag’s Pool.

An icy mist rose from the water. Soon the shoreline would be congested with ice. Like frost in an old man’s beard, the grass would turn crystalline. But even then, Aidan would find a moment to immerse himself in the icy waters of the loch, for it gave him a sense of euphoria to emerge and feel his blood flow into his limbs like warm
uisge
. In those instants, he felt more alive than at any other time, save the moments he spent in his wife’s arms.

The
Am Monadh Ruadh
could be a bitter foe, unless a mon were at one with the land. Aidan’s daily plunge into the loch kept him acclimated to the cold. Tonight, as the sun set over the
crannóg
in the distance, he felt a sense of calm that came, not simply from a good-day’s practice with the blades, but a peace that settled over him with simply knowing that Lìli awaited him at home.

In the waning daylight, he spied the first flurries of winter and he sucked in a breath and plunged headlong into the icy loch, trusting his instincts. If war came to the vale, he would be ready—so would his men. But faith, like the bone-chilling cold, rushed through him as he immersed himself in the waters of the loch.

I
t was a king’s prerogative to change his mind.

A letter arrived from David. His green eyes glinting, Aidan brought the missive to Lìli, handing it to her while she stood at her desk, a half smile turning his lips. With trembling hands that were stiff from the cold, Lìli quickly unfurled the parchment, her heart surging into her throat. She held her breath as she read. Apparently mistaking Aidan’s carefully worded letter for a form of alliance, David wrote:

To Aidan, High Chief of the dún Scoti, laird of Dubhtolargg, forebear of Kenneth MacAilpín, I give thee greeting.

As it pleases me greatly ye are so agreeable to this alliance, I see no reason not to grant your lady’s wish. Please give your lovely bride my regards, and convey to her my deepest regrets over the manner and implementation of her circumstances. Long life to ye and yours.

Subscribed and sealed on this twentieth day of October by me, David mac Maíl Choluim, Prince of the Cumbrians, Earl of Northhampton and Huntingdon, the Righ Art, the High King of the Scots and Chief of Chiefs, forebear of Kenneth MacAilpín.

Lìli’s hands shook with relief as she handed the parchment back to Aidan. David’s message was clear to her, even if Aidan could not read between the lines. The king had had a change of heart, and regretted his part in Rogan’s scheme.

Long life to you and yours…

It was a blessing upon their marriage from Scotia's reigning King.

But Rogan would not so easily conform, she realized. And yet once her son was safely in their hands, Rogan would not dare undermine his liege. With but a single day remaining before the Blood moon, she knew David’s letter would have missed Rogan at Keppenach, for he would surely be on his way north—if indeed he intended to bargain with her. And she knew in her heart of hearts that he would. All she had to do now was convince Rogan to make the trade—to relinquish her son into her hands—and that she vowed to accomplish however she must.

For the first time in so long, she felt hopeful. She glanced up at her husband, loving his face—loving everything about him. If either of them must leave this earth too soon, she would not go without showing Aidan what was in her heart.

Be the two of you as one,
Una had said.

That was precisely what Lìli intended to do, for now she understood what the old woman had meant.

With a twinkle in her eyes, she walked to the door of their bedroom and closed it, then turned and smiled at her husband. That was all it took—a smile on her behalf, and she watched his breacan stir below his belt. And seeing that she spied the evidence of his arousal, he laughed huskily and she flung herself into his arms, seizing him by his face and kissing him wantonly, wanting him to feel everything that was in her heart. Answering with unreserved passion, he kissed her back, all the frustrations of the past weeks evident in the ardor of his kiss. She dared not let him go as she drew him into the bed, intending to love him as a true wife should. This time, their coupling was not gentle. Lìli wanted him to understand that not even death would part them because, aye, he was her one true love.

Inhaling a rush of stinging air into her lungs, Una watched as Lìli stole away from the
crannóg
, up the hill toward the crumbling ruins at the edge of the Faerie Glen.

The twilight of the year was knocking upon their door—the time between times, when the days descended into darkness and the nights grew cold and long. A blanket of fresh snow lay untrodden below the ridge, tinted copper beneath the full Blood moon—but this would not be simply any Blood moon. Tonight, the red sphere in the northern sky would eclipse itself, and the division between this world and the next would be at its thinnest. It was a time for rebirth, a time for growth, a time for atonement… and aye, a time of rest for the Mother of Winter…

But tonight, before the full eclipse, there would be no rest.

Her face painted the pale color of snow, Una ignored the exhaustion that threatened to steal into her old bones, and stood watching the night unfold. Fog swirled at her feet. The staff in her hand, with the stone in its claw, winked under the red moon, like the slow, waking blink of a weary mother whose child wailed in need.

For a moment, she watched the girl’s dark form creep up the hillside... alone, her bright red cloak fluttering behind her in the wind. And then, with a satisfied smile, she blew upon the milky stone in her staff…

Her breath warm against the night, she blew until the mist coalesced about her lips. After a moment, she puffed it away, and continued to blow softly… until the cold night fog slipped like a protective blanket over the entire hillside.

Down below, for an instant, before she was obscured from view by the lowering mist, Lìli froze, her arisaid swinging about as she peered in Una’s direction… as though sensing she was being watched. Unbidden, the girl’s gaze lifted to the tabled rock, and it was then Una knew for certain as she turned and hurried up the hillside… some day… aye, Lìli would be The One.

Prickles traveled the length of the old woman’s spine, despite that her old bones could no longer feel the cold, and she felt gratified to the depths of her soul. Relief wound its way through the tangled coils of her mind, freeing her from worry.

Nay, they had not spoken since yestereve... since before the king’s missive had arrived, but she sensed in her heart that Lìli would do what was right. This would not be the end … for even with the wind whispering through the crags, she did not hear Caoineag’s weeping.