Caelan shook his head. “I dinna ken, but she bears watching. Ye ken as well as I what Rachel said about her powers. Have ye noticed anything missing from yer library?”
“Nothing. All I know for certain is that I am too old to keep up with a lass more gifted in the ways than any of the druids I have ever known.” He stroked his long gray beard with his knobby, arthritic fingers. “I survived training the lads. Faolan, Ronan,and Latharn were nothing compared to that one. She is wilier, more powerful, and also more headstrong than any of her brothers.”
“Rachel noticed Avie seemed more intent on learning to control the Mirrors than concentrating on her other studies. Have ye spoken to Faolan or Latharn about her?”
Emrys snorted as he leaned upon his staff.“Ye ken as well as I that those two are useless when it comes to finding out what that wee rascal is up to. She has all her brothers eating out of her hand and not a one of them would be the first to betray her.”
Caelan glanced behind them and saw Rachel and Aveline approaching.“I shall speak to the lads. Convince them that as Avie gets more powerful, concealing her mischief might not be the wisest course to take.”
“Ronan, this wine is superb.”Rachel narrowed her eyes at her son, studying him over the rim of her glass. She didn’t like the gaunt angles of his face. Even though he was still her hulking, broad-shouldered son, he had turned into a leaner, tougher version of himself during this last, lengthy voyage at sea.He had lost the softness of a carefree youth and become a hardened, muscular man who silently commanded respect and more than likely a little leeriness and outright fear.
The shadowy stubble of a day’s growth of beard darkened his angular face, lending an even more dangerous look to his handsome features. His thick, dark hair had grown well past his shoulders. He wore it pulled back from his face in braids threaded with leather ties and a gold coin or two.
“He has become a pirate,” she said under her breath. Perhaps that was what troubled him. She peered closer, reaching out with her senses. No. It was not piracy that disturbed his inner peace. What was it then? His deep green eyes were fraught with the shadows of—something. She couldn’t pin it down and didn’t like it one bit. Aveline was right. Something serious troubled Ronan.
She took another sip and offered him a belated smile. “Where did you find this lovely wine?”
“Dela Ruga,” he said, returning her smile with one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I thought you might enjoy it.” He shifted uneasily in his seat and glanced around the table as though in search of allies.
Rachel glanced at his plate, noting his food was barely touched. His brothers had not only cleaned their plates but refilled them more than once.
“Father and I looked over the rest of the cargo. Ye did well, little brother.” Faolan gave Ronan’s shoulder an affectionate shake.
“Did ye see the silks I brought ye, Avie?” Ronan leaned forward and looked down the table at his little sister.
“I did, brother, and I thank ye. But all ye truly needed to bring me was yerself. Ye were gone overlong this time. I feared ye lost to us forever.” She shook a finger at him. “I ken well enough yer love for the sea, but ye are still mortal. Dinna worry us like that anymore, ye ken?”
“Now, Avie,” Ronan said in a placating tone that Rachel recognized as one that would anger his little sister rather than calm her, “ye know the sea goddess watches over me and keeps me safe.”
“Ye were gone longer than usual this time, son,” Caelan said. “Ye need to remember ye have family here on Scotland’s shores. We watch for yer return and worry about ye during the seasons beset with storms.” He shoved his untouched plate away, took hold of Rachel’s hand, and held it tightly, making her heart ache for the worry she felt coursing through her husband.
Dagun cleared his throat and thumped the haft of his knife on the long dinner table in the center of the family’s private hall. “We had such a prosperous year, it didna seem as if we had been out to sea that very long. Time passes ye by with great haste when the Fates smile upon ye.”
“Aye.” Ronan nodded, set his goblet on the table, then frowned down at the crimson wine. “Forgive me for causingall of ye worry. Time escapes me when I am at sea because that is where I truly feel at home.”
“This is yer home. Not that ship or the sea!” Aveline fisted her hands on either side of her plate and pinned him with a narrow-eyed glare.
“Aveline.” Rachel reached over and rested a hand atop her daughter’s. “Be thankful when your brother is among us and be watchful when he is at sea.” She rose from her seat, shoving the heavy mahogany chair back with the sheer strength of her concern for her son. “Ronan, I would see you in my solar. Now.” She waited for him to rise and follow.
“Mother…” He stared down at his plate, then blew out a heavy groan. “I?—”
“Now, Ronan.” She stepped off the dais, then looked back and arched a brow at him, waiting for him to find the good sense to follow and not defy her.
“I shall pray for ye,” Dagun said quietly as Ronan slowly rose from his seat.
“He’ll need it,” Latharn said. “She’s been storming about the castle for weeks because of his wandering.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance. “You had all best pray for yourselves as well,” Rachel told them. “Since I have yet to lose my hearing, and do not find your comments the least bit amusing.”
“May the goddess be with you, son,” Caelan said with a grim nod as lightning flashed and thunder crashed louder.
Rachel didn’t attempt to calm herself to control her stirring of the elements and avoid the storm. Her son would do well to remember her powers.
“Just bury me at sea,” Ronan muttered as he rose from his chair and obediently fell in step behind her.
Ronan rolledhis shoulders as he followed his mother down the torch lit hallway to her private solar. This was not only ridiculous butdamned embarrassing. He was ashamed to dread a meeting with his mother as much as he did this one. But as a woman descended from a long line of witches, as a woman from the faraway future, Mother wielded unspeakable powers and was not afraid to use them on anyone she deemed deserving of a wee reminder to treat her with respect. He was powerful too but couldn’t hold a candle to her—especially when her ire was stirred, and apparently, he had stirred it well.
She stood at the window, framed by the roiling black clouds laced with dancing tendrils of lightning beyond the ledge. Not bothering to turn from her study of the cauldron of thunderheads, she said, “What is wrong, Ronan? Tell me, so I can help you.”
