The golden glow of the water’s surface became even brighter, then faded and brightened again, as if taking on a heartbeat from the blood swirling within it.
He sharpened his focus, allowing the energy of the ancients and the magic of the wolf clan to flow through him and drip into the bowl along with his blood. “Mairwen, heed my call.”
Still at his side, Calia edged closer until she nudged against him. He welcomed her warmth and support. It fed into him, giving him an even stronger surge of power.
“Mairwen!” he roared, fed up with being ignored.
“There is no need to shout, grand chieftain.” Mairwen’s voice echoed throughout the high-ceilinged room as she shimmered into view inside the beam of sunlight streaming in the windows. The silvery-haired matron smiled and nodded at both of them. “Congratulations on embracing yer bond.”
“Why did you lie to me?” Calia asked before Mathison could speak. “Everything you and Keeva said and did was deceitful. Meant to trick me into being torn away from everything I’ve ever known.”
“Would ye have believed me had I told ye of all this? Of the shifters?” Mairwen arched a silvery brow higher. “I now see ye are a shifter yerself. How did we miss that? I shall have a word with Keeva and Bedelia. Such an oversight is unacceptable.” She calmly folded her hands in front of her narrow waist and tipped her chin higher. “Well, what say ye, Calia? Would ye have believed me had I told ye of the Ninth Realm rather than sent ye here?”
“Probably not,” Calia admitted. “But that still doesn’t excuse the deception.”
“The Highland Veil hungered for the energy of yer bond with Chieftain Shadowmist. Shifter fated mates offer a particularly powerful healing to the blessed tapestry. I apologize for the deception, but the needs of all of existence far outweighed the needs of the one.” Mairwen turned her focus to Mathison. “Teach her the lore, grand chieftain, and dinna be slow about doing it. Her survival could verra well depend on it.”
“Her wolf is the pale alpha.” Mathison drew a great deal of satisfaction from Mairwen’s obvious surprise, even though it was subtle. The Divine Weaver rarely showed emotion. “And my wolf and I will protect them both—should they need it.”
“They will need it.” Mairwen’s image faded somewhat as a cloud skittered in front of the sun and temporarily cast the tower in shadow. “The witch Bansys is not only determined to rule the Ninth Realm, with or without the aid of yer sons, but she is also in league with Carman the evil one and her vile spawn. They mean to rend the Veil to pieces so all may pass through the realms and layers of time without regard to the goddesses’ commands or help from the Weavers or Defenders.”
“If Mathison and I passed through the Veil with no issue, and also without destroying it, why can’t anyone do that?” Calia pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and wrapped it around Mathison’s hand to bind his wound.
“Because I sent ye,” Mairwen said, then tipped a nod at Mathison. “And he is a Defender sworn to protect the Highland Veil. It knows he means it no harm, either to it or any of the realms it separates. Only a Weaver or a Defender chieftain may open the portals, and only then for the betterment of the Veil or because of special permissions granted to some of the fated mates by the goddesses—and those special permissions only allow access to the specific Seven Cairns that the fated mates wish to visit.”
“Like Mathison only being allowed to visit the holy ground of Seven Cairns in my century?” Calia asked.
“Exactly.”
“I want my stuff,” Calia said, reminding Mathison of a bairn demanding a favorite toy.
Mairwen frowned. “’Tis unwise to carry material things from one century to another century and a different realm.”
“I want my stuff,” Calia said more slowly, inflecting the words with anger. It no longer sounded like a request but more of an ultimatum.
Adopting the sternness of a tutor dealing with an unruly child, Mairwen settled a hard look on Calia. “Where is yer amulet? The one I advised ye to wear at all times?”
“It’s wherever you sent my bedroom after you made it disappear from here.”
Mairwen pursed her lips, obviously displeased. “Then ye will have to come to Seven Cairns and fetch it. Ye need that amulet for yer protection until the curse is fully broken, and Chieftain Shadowmist is restored to power.”
“Until the curse is fully broken?” Mathison asked, not entirely pleased with what the Divine Weaver insinuated. “Either it is broken, or it is not, aye?”
“No.” Mairwen’s image dimmed again as another cloud passed between the tower and the sun. “Bansys senses her spell upon ye weakens with each passing day. She will take whatever action necessary to maintain control. Dinna underestimate her. She has had centuries to perfect this, and as I said before, the immortal Carman is aiding her.”
“’Twill be a dangerous thing to take Calia to Seven Cairns. Could ye not spirit the amulet to her?” It was several days’ ride to the Weavers’ village, a journey fraught with danger.”
“I want my stuff,” Calia repeated, her eyes filling with tears. She held up a finger. “There is one thing I must have. One thing. And I will do anything to get it.”
Mathison took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “What is it? What is this thing that haunts ye?”
Her lower lip trembled, and the look in her eyes begged him to understand. “I can live without the clothes I told you about, but I have to have Gillian’s baby book. All her pictures are in it. Minutes after she was born. Birthday parties. Holidays. Touchable memories of…everything. It’s all I have left of my baby.” She bowed her head and turned away, pulling free of his grasp.
Now he finally understood. He turned to Mairwen. “We shall come to Seven Cairns for the amulet and Gillian’s baby book, ye ken? We will not take the one without the other.”
“The amulet is for her protection,” Mairwen snapped, reading his unspoken threat as clearly as he’d meant it.
“And?” He waited, knowing the old one never fully revealed her hand unless pressed. “What are ye trying not to say, Mairwen?”
