The Love Weaver softly chortled. “Ah, to be so young and energetic again.” After another sip of water, she turned back to Mairwen. “Aye, the lass is recently divorced. From what the Conflict Weavers and I were able to discover, the marriage failed early on for many reasons, but didn’t actually end until recently.”
“So, she is wounded?” Mairwen frowned at the scrying bowl. The divination waters had started swirling again. The inky blackness had disappeared, replaced by a murky gray that resembled a bank of storm clouds.
“Aye, wounded by her former husband as well as by fate.” Bedelia sadly shook her head. “Her child died. Her daughter of seven years. It is my opinion that pain finally ended her union with the man who was not her fated mate.”
With such scars, this reunion of fated mates would not be easy, but then, they never were. Mairwen dipped a fingertip into the scrying bowl’s waters. “Show me this woman and dinna be slow about it. I command ye to cast aside the darkness and fight to bring healing to the Highland Veil.”
Muted tones and colors shimmered across the scrying bowl’s surface. An image formed, out of focus and fuzzy at first, then sharp and clear as though a film had been peeled away and a barrier lifted. A woman appeared. Her hair was long and dark, nearly black even, with a single streak of the purest white starting in the front at the center part, then curling down and framing the left side of her face. She did not appear aged enough to possess such a sign of advanced years, but there was an unmistakable weariness around her hazel eyes.
“She is not an inexperienced youngling.” Mairwen knew that such a case could make the Weavers’ task of uniting this lass with Grand Chieftain Shadowmist even more challenging. “What is her age? Have ye divined that?”
“Nine and thirty,” Bedelia said with an apologetic tilt to her head. “But she is the one. The Dream Weavers also confirmed it.”
“How?”
“They tempted her with an image of the mighty chieftain. Her soul responded.” Bedelia shifted in her seat, appearing suddenly uncomfortable. “But her heart remained steadfast against him, and her mind also rejected him.”
“Understandable, considering her circumstances.” Mairwen eyed the woman’s image. “Have we done anything to ensure she comes to Seven Cairns?” she asked Keeva.
“I am luring her here with the cottage in the hills.” Keeva pulled out her phone and tapped its screen. “I adjusted the algorithms where she is most active to ensure she is repeatedly tempted.” She gave a quick shake of her head. “My tarot dating app won’t work this time since she is not looking for anything other than peace and isolation.”
“Algo…what?” Mairwen hated it when Keeva spoke in twenty-first century riddles. It was as though she were the apprentice and Keeva the master.
The girl looked up from her phone, blinking as though waking from a dream. “The algorithms of her social media accounts and email. She is quite active on several platforms as a person who repairs and restores items and shares simple solutions with others for their broken or damaged belongings. That is how she supports herself since she resigned from her chosen career, an FBI agent, when her daughter fell ill.”
“I see,” Mairwen said even though she really didn’t. “Anything else? Will the manipulation of her social media accounts be enough?”
“The other Weavers are also nudging her,” Bedelia said, “in whatever ways their powers permit.”
More reassured after hearing that, Mairwen touched the divination waters again, locking the image of the woman so as not to lose it. “The mighty Shadowmist should arrive at any time. The two of ye feel confident in what ye’ve discovered?”
Bedelia nodded, and Keeva turned her phone so Mairwen could see the screen. “Aye, Mairwen, and if ye dinna wish to freeze the waters, I can show him some of her posts and videos.”
“Do ye not remember his reaction the last time ye showed him yer phone?” Mairwen touched the rim of the scrying bowl. “Sometimes, simple is best, Keeva, even though it may seem archaic.” She turned her attention back to the image on the divination waters. The lass was lovely enough; of that, there was no doubt. But her pain and weariness were undeniable—and at the age of nine and thirty, children from the union with her fated mate would be doubtful. Especially since she was a mere mortal rather than a shifter.“Acceptance by his people will be difficult for her.”
“Fated mates have faced such prejudices before,” Keeva said. “Calia Wiles is a fighter. She has overcome much.”
“Calia Wiles,” Mairwen repeated, still studying the image of the dark-haired lass with the soulful eyes. “The name suits her.” But fighter or not, the mortal woman from the twenty-first century would still be faced with suspending her belief in everything she had ever known. Of course, all fated mate matches required that of one or the other of the souls. For some inexplicable reason, Mairwen sensed this particular pairing might prove more difficult than usual.
She pushed up from the table. “Let us prepare for the grand chieftain’s arrival, and hope the two of ye succeeded in solving his terrible riddle.”
Dressed in his usual long, black coat and kilt, Grand Chieftain Mathison Shadowmist’s mood matched his somber clothing. As he passed between the magical wards that bordered Seven Cairns of seventeenth century Scotland’s Ninth Realm, the sting of their protective energy rippled across him and raked his wolf’s senses. He rolled his shoulders to dispel the annoyance he and his inner being had felt so many times before.
His mount’s steps clattered on the cobblestone streets of the village of immortal beings, who were his only hope of regaining his life and, hopefully, a relationship with his sons. A ragged sigh left him. It had been so long. That feckin’ witch had poured every ounce of her magical strength into the curse that had robbed him of everything. He shook his head. Never had he imagined that Bansys of the Silvercord Clan could ever be so powerful.
The bone-chilling drizzle intensified into a downpour just as he reached the meeting hall, which resembled a stone fortress more than a gathering place for the villagers. All the other buildings along the thoroughfare were simple enough structures, some with thatched roofs, others with slate or clay tiles, and almost all with whitewashed walls. But the meeting hall, with its watchtowers and formidable defensive parapets, would make intruders think twice about trying to seize it.
As he dismounted, he turned and spied one of the Weaver’s watchers. To the untrained eye, the watchers appeared as lifeless stone statues of gnomes, various mythical creatures, or animals, but Mathison knew better. The watchers missed nothing that happened in Seven Cairns, and they reported everything to the Weavers. This particular watcher was an almost life-sized statue of a wulver—a good-natured, helpful creature with the head of a wolf and the body of a man.
Mathison placed his reins in the outstretched hand of the sculpted figure. “Take him to the dry. I dinna ken how long I will be.”
The wulver didn’t respond, but Mathison felt certain his request would be obeyed. “Dinna harm him,” he told his horse before walking away.
Horse rumbled a grudging acknowledgement of the request. Known for his foul temper and preference to serve only one master, the great black beast often had to be reminded to behave.
Mathison paused just beyond the reach of the pair of magical wards placed on either side of the main entrance to the hall. The sting of their magic was a great deal more unpleasant and filled with warning than the wards guarding the village’s borders. None of the wards would affect mortals who possessed little or no magic, but as a shifter—as the ruler of all the shifters of the Ninth Realm—the wards didn’t hesitate to make it known that he could only pass when the old one, the all powerful Mairwen, deemed it permissible. Usually, once the border wards announced his arrival, she disarmed this pair at the entrance to the hall. But knowing their power from personal experience, Mathison preferred not to chance it.
“Mairwen,” he called out. “I bid ye grant me entry.”
