Shadows of the Keeper (11 page)

“Prince of where?” Emily asked
while trying to execute good manners when all she really wanted to do was
gag.  Apple and banana coexisted amongst cinnamon, nutmeg, and delicious
dough.  Maeve was a baking goddess.  But, after last night’s binge,
food nauseated her.  She lifted her gaze and found Broc keenly watching
her.  The dashing laird had kept his warm, strong arms wrapped around her
throughout the night, though he’d slipped out as dawn kissed the windows. 
Both pretended indifference.

She also pretended
indifference
to the rather detailed threats of dismemberment, and male growling within her
head as she’d showered.  The louder the growls, the more she envisioned it
to be Broc’s hands soaping her body, versus her own.  What amounted to a
male scream was the last thing she heard before blessed tomb silence.

“A land far from here,” Broc
tentatively answered.  He drank his coffee, eyeing her now mutilated
muffin.

“Quemori,” she muttered.

Broc’s cup lowered.  Men, who
had been quietly breaking their fast, stilled.

“How do ye’ come by this
knowledge?”

“Funny thing about scotch, hot
baths, and weird dreams.  Puzzles glue themselves together.  Do you
think Allen could drive me to the airport?”

“What is your desire at the
airport?”

“Uh, that would be how people
vacate one location in order to reach another.”  She waggled eyebrows at
him before popping another bite into her mouth.  She did a remarkable job
of ignoring Colin’s snorfing over her sarcasm.  Sometimes, it was damn
hard not to laugh at her own quips.

Broc dropped his resting foot from
his knee, and leaned in.  “But I doona’ wish ye’ ta’ leave, Lady Emily.”

His whispering accent caused her
throat to close.  And her stomach to flutter.  If not for the boots
Aunsgar had supplied her with, she’d probably be sitting here with toes curled
as well.  “Well, therein lies the crux of the matter, eh?  It isn’t
up to you.  Now, since it’s
my
choice,
I
say it’s time for
me to head on home.”  She reached for more juice.  Maeve had
forbidden her coffee for two days until her stomach settled.  Emily had
plans to later hold the kitchen hostage, coffee her ransom.

Broc eased back, and folded his
arms.  “No.” 

“Yes.”

“Nay.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been charged wi’ yer’
safety.  Ye’ canna’ leave.”

“Safety from
what
? 
And, charged by whom?  While you’re at it, can you do something about the
voice in my head?”  Maybe if they thought she was insane, they’d contact
authorities and have her hauled off to a psych ward. 
One way to get
outa here
.

“They return,” Garreck announced. 
On cue, lightening erupted.  Emily squealed.  Juice sloshed her hand.

“Does it always sound like cannons
here?”  She mopped her mess with a linen napkin.

“Only when they leave or
arrive.”  Broc helped her.

“When who leaves?”  His
closeness unsettled her. 
I just want to run my palms against his
permanent five o’clock shadow, and maybe even—

Do it and I’ll cut off your
hands
!

Emily searched around, above and
glanced under the table.

“Lose something?” Reignsfeugh
inquired.

“My mind.  There’s a male
voice.  You can’t hear it?  Bastard just threatened to cut off my
hands if I dared run my fingers through . . .uh,” she blushed and averted her
eyes that seemed attached to Broc.

“If you what?” Urkani asked.

“Nothing.”

Urkani moved closer, his demeanor grim. 
“How long has this male voice been in your head?”

“About as long as this one,” Emily
waved her hand at Broc, “has seen fit to keep me prisoner.”

Broc lifted the silver pot. 
“Coffee?”

Emily scowled. “Thought Maeve
forbade my having any?”

“I’m concerned ye’ might hunt down
mi’ cook and hold her hostage ‘til coffee is poured down yer’ gullet.”

“Wise man.”  Grabbing a cup,
she thrust it towards Broc.  “Pour, oh gallant knight, while I plot my
escape.”

“Is it really so very bad here,
milady?”

“Please resume your growling and
scowling.  When you’re nice, I’m tempted to throw you down, straddle you
naked and have my way with you.”

Broc choked.  As did his men.

Emily preened, and repeatedly
jabbed at the empty innards of her empty cup, hinting he needed to start
pouring.

“Nice try, lass, but threatening to
ravage mi’ body will no’ distract me, enabling you ta’ escape.  Sugar?”

“Yes, wretch, and cream.”

“I will no’ begin each day debating
your need ta’ vacate mi’ guardianship, milady.”

“Too bad you weren’t this concerned
when Aurelia was in your charge.”

Acute silence filled the hall. 
Tingling surged through her as her nape tightened.  Broc’s visage
crystalized; colors sharpened, as did her sense of smell.  It was almost
as if she were suddenly . . .
primal.

“S’blood,” she heard muttered
around her.  “Her eyes
glow
!”  Some of the men rose, and moved
back.  Emily knew, without turning her head, they confiscated their weapons. 
“Ye’ said it was trick o’ candlelight,” Colin said.  “That, laird, be no’ trick
o’ flame!”

With deliberate precision, she set
down her cup.  “Be very thankful, Outlander, that Aurelia wasn’t a
modern.”

“Regardless the power awakening
within you, do not ever call me Outlander, Emily, nor speak of a woman you ken
nothing about.  I do no’ ken who speaks tales that are of little concern
to—“

“Bestowing
her
castle to
your
mistress
would have found you sizzling from fire, had it been me
who you turned your back on.  I would have made sure your bitch burned
with you as well.”

Broc looked like a man slapped.

“Mi’ lord—“

Broc’s hand shot up. 

Garreck silenced. 

“Her blood already rests on your
hands, whoever you are, as does the blood of mi’ unborn she carried.”

Emily stood.  Methodically,
she folded her napkin.  “No, Broc—“

“Laird MacLarrin.”

“
Princess
Emily.”  She
glared.  “I do believe
princess
outranks
laird
, so listen
up, little man.”

He shot up, his chair clattering
loudly.  Unimpressed, Emily tossed her hair, then leveled glowing amber
eyes on him.  “Guardianship of Aurelia was a test.  Did you not
realize?  History repeated itself.  You failed,
Outlander
!” 
Garreck rose quickly, obvious to all he’d grab Broc, should the laird think to
lunge for the lass’ throat. 

“Your people killed her once
before.  Sold her to . . .” Emily’s gaze flicked over his shoulder for
mere seconds.  “
In every village, the infants wail, their mothers
carried off by Lumynari.  Soulless killers, Aurelia, you have brought down
upon us
.”

Broc paled.  “I spoke those
words to Aurelia thirty-six hundred years ago.”

“After which, you openly shunned
her—me.”

Broc was incredulous.  “How
can you be privy to privately spoken words thirty-six hundred years before your
birth?”

“Did you know, when your garrison
rode away, I was beaten with sticks?  They told you I fell.”  Emily shook
her head, disgusted.  “Na’Dryn led the beating.  She said
you
ordered her to wait until you and Aunsgar were gone, or the Elves would kill
her.  The village hoped it would be enough for Aunsgar to take me from
you, I was a danger, I brought the Lumynari, or so they shouted as she beat
me.  Then, I was kicked, and
that
, Na’Dryn claimed was what you had
wanted her to do for you.”  Cold grin smeared her face.  “You’re
right.  Her blood is on my hands.  Apparently, I was rather skilled
in self-defense.”  Unimpressed with Broc’s face contorting with rage,
Emily swiveled her gaze to Urkani.  “You nursed me.”

The Elf commander inclined his
head.

“As did you, Garreck.”

Broc’s captain moved to her side of
the table.  “I knew the truth and what that bitch had done.” 
Something crossed his features making her wonder what else transpired from the
hands of Na’Dryn.  She turned away, regal in her walk towards the
stairs.  Abruptly, she whirled and came face-to-face with Urkani, who had
been following her.

“I will ask you but once, what or
who are Lumynari?”

“What have killed you twice before
and what hunt you now.”

“
Finally
, a straight
answer.”

“Perhaps you will be so kind and
return the favor,” Urkani said.

“You have a question?  What
could possibly interest you about me?”

“I would have you tell me why you
do not wish to speak of your deceased aunt when Maeve tries to inquire.”

Striding back down the few steps
she’d ascended, Emily grabbed the hem of her sweater.  “I used to
sketch.  Whatever I drew, I signed with a symbol instead of my
name.”  She shrugged.  “For whatever reason, doodling one day, this
symbol seemed kinda cool and I ran with it.”  Her audience looked
confused.  “I made a bunch of drawings and happened upon one I liked, so
used it to sign my work.”

Collectively, they nodded, now
understanding her meaning.

“My aunt, never having given two
shits about me before, suddenly boasted interest in my work.  I think it
was an excuse for her to snoop.  She went through my drawings, making fun
of each one.  Then she saw my signature.  And tore up all my work.”

Audible gasps erupted, several
curses thrown in.

“Never daring defiance, on
that
day, I unhinged.”  Again, she shrugged.

“Lass, the more ye’ shrug, the more
something truly disturbs ye’,” Broc said in a soft voice.  He searched his
memory, but did not recall Aurelia ever drawing or requiring runes for her
magicks.  All she need do is have it be a thought and she could make it
happen.  ‘Twas why he blamed her for the death of his people.  Her
magic could have obliterated the Lumynari legion.  Was that beating the
true reason she’d held back from helping them?  He’d never ordained
something so hideous.  How could he have been so gullible as to trust
Na’Dryn, knowing she had a cruel temper?   Minutes before riding out,
he had caught her in the throes of a heated embrace with Hearn. 
Confession by sword, their affair had been occurring for several weeks. 
He would never know if the bairn was his or not.  He would never allow his
pride to suffer the admission.  Not ever.

“What is this ‘unhinged’?” Colin
asked.

“You left this crazed woman to make
your own way in the world?” Urkani asked.

“That would have a better decision.
No, I uh,” she lifted the hem of her sweater, presenting her back to
them.  “I had the symbol tattooed to my lower back and I wanted it done in
dark blue, not the traditional black.

Gasps.  Benches scraped,
booted feet running up.  Curses and oaths hissed.  Embarrassed, she
lowered her sweater and faced them again, her face red.

“Nay, lass,” Broc said, not even a
foot away from her.  “I’ll look at yer’ marking again.  Now.” 
Urkani nodded.  Emily stepped backwards onto the next step, away from
their scrutiny.

“I willna’ hurt ye’.”

“Leave me alone.  You’ve
caused me enough confusion.”

“Lady Emily,” Urkani grasped Broc’s
arm, stilling the laird’s advance.  “The mark you chose.  It is
not  accidental.”

“You guarded my door.”  At the
commander’s muted stare, Emily elaborated.  “I suffered humiliation, as
did Owen.  You guarded my door.  A painting, Broc ordered from his
sight.”

Chaos erupted.  Forest Lords
spoke in rapid-fire languages she didn’t understand.

Urkani remained motionless,
watching her.  “Lady Emily, you have chosen the crescent moon pierced with
arrow.  It was Aurelia’s birthmark, and from stories handed down from my
father, the same mark upon the druidess Zaiyne.”

“Zaiyne?”

“What was your aunt’s reaction to
marking your body with symbols already having made her craze?” Garreck asked so
softly, she almost missed his inquiry over Reignsfeugh and Broc’s
arguing.  Simultaneously, both men silenced, turning their attention up to
her.  “Lass?”

“I don’t want your pity.”

“We aren’t offering any.”

She glared down at Broc. 
“Well,
you
, I wouldn’t expect it from.”  She tossed her hair,
visually roving over them.  Again, she looked at Urkani.  “She tried
burning it off with a hot iron.”

“S’blood!  I’ll kill the
she-devil!”

“Thanks, Aedan, but she’s already
dead.  My screaming out the front door brought a neighbor running, who
rushed me to the hospital after threatening her with police.  She missed
my tattoo, but burned the shit out of my hip.”  Emily shrugged, turned
from them, and thought to resume her escape.  A strong hand clamped down
on her shoulder, halting her flight.  Déjà vu hit her again.  Something
about his vice grip on her shoulder, but she couldn’t capture the elusive
memory.

“Ye’ shrug, lass, ‘tis yer’ way of
hiding the more of it.  Finish yer’ tale, Lady Emily.  Did ye’ seek
revenge for her attack?”

She eyed the hand on her shoulder
until Broc dropped his hold.  “Let’s just say that, if my neighbor hadn’t
seen her alive and gotten into a yelling match with her before he drove me away
from that witch, I would be in jail the rest of my life.”  She ignored
their collective surprise.  “Witnesses watering their yards reported
hearing horrific screams inside our house and then, Millie appeared on the
master bedroom balcony.  Where she jumped.”

“Suicide.”

“Murder,” Emily corrected.

“Nay, lass, she jumped.” 
Reignsfeugh moved closer to offer comfort.

“Three black arrows, gold filigree
designs spiraling their shafts, protruded from her back.  Did I mention
she’d been scalped?  And her tongue was missing.  Police never did
find it.  Thank God my DNA was nowhere near her mouth.”