Faolan turned from his pounding of the wall and leaned against it instead. As he raked his hands through his unkempt hair, he squeezed his eyes shut as though trying to block Sorcha’s words.
Faolan opened his eyes and took a shaking breath as he dropped his hands to his sides. As he turned to walk away from the room containing the only woman he had ever loved, he didn’t look back as he choked out his orders. “Take care of her, Sorcha. See to her every need. I don’t care how long it takes. We’re going to take care of her till her spirit returns. She is still my own Ciara.”
“It will be done. I swear to ye, my laird. Our lady will want for nothing.”
ChapterThirteen
“Now hear me, Keagan,” Faolan said. “Dinna be upset if your mother seems a bitdifferent. She’s just unwell right now. Ye must be patient and speak to her quietly. Give her a wee gentle hug about her neck and tell her how much ye love her.”
Faolan nudged the boy in the middle of his back and nodded in the direction of the gardens. Faolan, Maxwell, and even Sorcha had agreed that perhaps if Ciara saw her son, she might somehow snap out of her vacant-eyed trance and return to her vibrant self.
Keagan leaned to one side and peered around Maxwell’s broad body. He bent his tousled head with a curious stare and studied the woman awaiting him in the garden. He quirked his mouth into a dimpled frown and stared harder at the woman’s face. His pale brows knotted in disbelief, as he faced his father with an accusing glare. “That is not Mother! How could ye think that wee small woman over on yon bench could be my mother? Have ye both gone daftandblind?”
Faolan crouched and brought his face even with Keagan’s. He inhaled a slow breath as he took his son by the shoulders. He swallowed hard and steadied his voice, forcing his churning emotions to the back of his mind. “Of course, that’s Mother, Keagan. She’s just—” Faolan stopped short and glanced over at the woman on the bench. He was at a loss for words. How could he explain to his son that his mother had returned to them as nothing more than an empty shell?
Keagan turned and looked again at the sedate woman who sat on the bench in the gardens, then returned a disbelieving scowl on his father. “How can ye not see it, Da? I know Mother said ye didna have the sight but ye dinna need it to see this woman doesna look like Mother at all. She’s too little. She’s a wispy thing. Can ye no’ see it? Mother is tall. Mother is like a warrior princess. That woman looks like one of the fae of the woods. Look closer, Da. Can ye not see her in her true form? Look beyond the glamour, Da!”
Damn the boy!Now was not the time. Faolan couldn’t bear to look in the direction of the woman staring up into the clouds. He just stood with one hand resting on his son’s shoulder and gritted his teeth. “Keagan. Now is not the time for your stubbornness. Go now and greet your mother. It will help her feel better!” Lore, Ciara had gifted the boy with hardheadedness. Why did he have to be so much like his mother?
With his jaw clenched in the identical image of his father when Faolan was about to lose his temper, Keagan gave a curt shake of his head and jabbed a finger in the direction of the garden. “I am not playing any sort of game! That woman is not my mother. Ye need to look with your heart, Da. Use your heart instead of your eyes.”
Turning to stomp his way across the path, the young boy paused before storming out the garden gate. “Ye must use your magic, Da, to see the truth of this world. I dinna mean to be disobedient, but Mother said there would come a time when I would need to be firm with ye about your beliefs and when ye should use your powers. I canna say if she meant this day or not. All I know is that pitiful woman sitting on that bench is definitely not my mother!” After he spoke his piece, he marched out the gate, but stopped just short of slamming it behind him.
“How can one so young sound so wise?” Maxwell wondered aloud as he watched Keagan storm out of their midst.
Life shattered, Faolan raised his face to the cooling breeze as it wafted down from the surrounding mountains. In the space of just a few short weeks, his entire world had fallen apart. The scent of the heather from the nearby hillside succeeded only in increasing the consistent ache in his chest.
It brought back the memories of the warm, secluded hillside with his loving wife in his arms. Exhaling with a groan, he scrubbed his face with his hands, his voice raw with his breaking heart. “Ciara insisted on preparing Keagan for what she called a turbulent future. She never revealed the details of his lessons, just insisted I trust her in preparing our son.”
Faolan scuffed his boots against the moss covered stones of the path as he made his way over to the empty-eyed woman sitting on the bench. Reaching out an unsteady hand, he brushed his fingertips to her hair. How could this woman not be Ciara? But then again, how could she be? Gone was the fire, the fury, the passion. Gone was even the melancholy and mysterious depression that had plagued her of late. Gone was everything that had made his wife the wondrous woman he loved more than life itself.
Physically, this woman appeared to be Ciara. Same hair, same face, and she seemed to have the same body. Faolan didn’t know for sure since he found it almost physically painful to be in the same room with the eerily silent woman and hadn’t harbored a thought of returning to their bed since he’d looked into those damnably vacant eyes.
However, if Keagan was right, then what was the truth? Who was this woman and where had she come from? More important, where was his wife? What had happened to his beloved Ciara?
Faolan turned to Maxwell and nodded toward the garden gate. Damn, he felt as defeated and weary, as if he’d aged a hundred years. Life wasn’t worth the battle without his beloved Ciara. “Maxwell, see if ye can find Keagan. Bring him back here to the gardens. Since my son is so clear-sighted, perhaps he can show me how to see through this cruel illusion he swears exists.”
Maxwell shrugged; one scraggly brow cocked as he responded with a curt nod of his head. For a brief moment, he rested a consoling hand upon Faolan’s shoulder before he left to fetch Keagan back to the gardens.
* * *
A mixtureof pain and pride flooded Faolan’s chest as his gaze settled on his son. One of the last conversations he’d shared with Ciara sprang to mind as Keagan walked back through the garden gate. Damn the boy favored his mother across the eyes, but Ciara had been right, the rest of the lad was all MacKay.
Keagan stood tall for a seven-year-old boy. The top of his head already reached Faolan mid-chest. Even though still a lad, the blueprint was clear: Keagan would someday follow in the footsteps of the majority of the MacKay males. Keagan would be a mountain of a man.
Keagan’s eyes had settled into the darkest shade of blue the clan had ever seen. Faolan had heard talk they reminded everyone of the deepest waters of the sea or the part of the sky closest to the edge of a full moon in the deepest part of winter. His blond hair shimmered the silvery-white blond of the very young and was just beginning to darken at his crown. Faolan smiled, remembering Sorcha had told him the kitchen maids gossiped that the boy was already strikingly handsome even though he was still just a lad.
Faolan was relieved Keagan’s amazing way with animals had also extended to any person he met. He’d learned the boy could perceive their thoughts and feelings without them having to say a word. Unfortunately for Keagan he’d also inherited his father’s temper. With a sigh, Faolan realized he’d have to help Keagan learn how to control his emotions. One of the last things Ciara had mentioned was that Keagan was just as adept as Faolan at stirring up a good thunderstorm when angered.
“I’m verra sorry I spoke to ye the way I did, Da. If ye wish, I’ll try and help ye see past the glamour to find out who she truly is.” Keagan stood with his gangly arms folded across his chest and his chin jutted into the air.
Faolan stifled a smile. His son didn’t sound verra sorry. He sounded thoroughly pissed. “That sounds like a fine idea, Keagan. How shall we start?”
Keagan shifted to stand between his father and the catatonic woman who sat staring straight ahead at nothing. They were still in the garden sheltered just inside the castle’s skirting wall where the quiet woman perched on the edge of the bench. A bit of sunlight remained in the day, just enough to barely warm the stones. This late in the season, the trees were bare. The only hint of green was the ivy covering the walls.
Keagan looked over at the woman then turned to his father with a scowl etched across his narrow face. He inhaled a deep breath and repeated his instructions as though his father was a bit slow. “Da, ye must look at her a bit out of focus. Look at her as though ye are more looking at the air around her instead of directly at her body. Mother said ye were able to see people’s auras. Her aura is what ye seek. When ye open your mind completely to her aura, the glamour surrounding her true form will fall away.”
Clenching his teeth, Faolan glanced first at Keagan then stared harder at the air around the vacant-eyed Ciara. Damn, if this wasn’t sheer madness. Why couldn’t he do this? He knew damn good and well why he couldn’t do this. He could hear Emrys drone at him as though the nasally old curmudgeon stood right behind him. He was trying too hard. He couldn’t force the energies. Years ago, Faolan had trained in the Auld Ways. He’d been the most gifted of all his siblings. He’d tossed magic aside when life had disappointed him. Now he needed to reconnect.
