“Nay, not your sire. Someone I visited long ago, though they have not recognized me yet.”
“Who? Do tell, please.” Simone’s face lit up with excitement.
“I cannot tell, but I’m certain you will be able to discern who my target is. But for now, I need you to convince Brynja to go to Duart Castle.”
“Is she your target?”
“Nay, not directly. She is an important part of what needs to happen though, and right now, she is being a bit stubborn.”
“How do you define stubborn as an angel?” Artan asked.
“She’s ignoring all the inklings I’m sending her way. Brynja must go to Duart Castle. It’s in her best interest, but she’s refusing to listen. I don’t wish to have her kidnapped so I’m hoping you’ll convince her to go with you.”
Simone thought for a moment, then asked, “Does Hildi need to go with us?”
“Aye, you need to take Hildi to Brenna, the healer. She’ll know how to fix her. I fear she could have long-lasting effects from her injury if she stays here.”
“We’ll see it done.”
Lia said, “My thanks to you both.”
Sometimes, people on Earth were quite dense.
Chapter Seventeen
Connor
Connor sat on a stool in the parapets, a glass of mead in his hand. He couldn’t help but think of his sire every time he came to the parapets. How he loved it here.
Alex Grant loved the parapets and his special place on Grant land where he chopped down trees to get rid of his anger. Connor never had the temper his father did. Jake, Kyla, and Alasdair did, but he and Jamie escaped it. That’s why Alasdair now kept the area open for anyone who needed it.
How Connor missed his parents, but he was reminded of them in so many places. He saw his mother in Kyla’s ministrations to everyone in the clan, in Elizabeth whenever she read stories to the bairns. His youngest son, Morgan, was the image of his father and acted like him too. So much so that at times, it would haunt Connor, as if he were watching the ghost of his father in front of him. Hagen also acted much like Alexander Grant because he had the fierce quiet that his father had. Something Morgan lacked. Hagen’s power was in his words and his actions, Morgan’s power was in his sword.
He missed Grant land, but he also loved Mull. Looking over the sea was something he’d never had the pleasure of doing from Grant Castle. They had a loch to overlook, but never the sea. And it was quite a view. The Sound of Mull and Ben Buie were his favorite sites to look at. The mountains and the hills, the water, the forests. Mull was a beautiful place to live. Now if he could get the rest of his bairns here, he’d feel complete.
To his surprise, Dyna came out into the courtyard with her three bairns. Sylvi ran ahead while Sandor swung his play sword, but Tora?
She stopped down underneath him as if she knew exactly where he would be. She spun around and looked right at him. “Gwandda!”
“Good morn to you, sweet Tora. What is it?”
“Come down, Gwandda! I need you.”
Dyna looked up at him and shrugged.
“I’ll be right there, Dyna.”
He didn’t like it one bit, but he wasn’t going to ignore his granddaughter when he knew she could see what was to come. He set the stool back, grabbed his cup of mead, and headed down the stairs until he made it outside.
Tora ran straight at him, holding her arms up to him. “Uppy, Gwandda.”
Connor sat on a nearby bench and held his arms out to the sweet lass. “Come to me, lassie.”
Tora climbed up, giggled, then became serious. She cupped his face and said, “You have to help Bwia.”
“Bwia?”
“Bwia. Hagen’s Bwia. You have to help her. She comeen later.” Then she shoved at his chest, just like she always did. “Down.”
