*
Rose didn’t speakmuch on the way home. Her mind was awhirl with everything she’d discovered at North Cove. She glanced down at the burn on her palm. It no longer hurt and would probably heal without a scar, but even so, it was a reminder of all that was wrong here. Since the incident with Drew, she had suspected she was dealing with something other than an ordinary epidemic.
North Cove had only confirmed that.
She breathed deeply, trying to calm her racing heart as they cantered back towards Dun Mallach at a faster pace than on their way out this morning. Rose made no complaint about the pace. Nor did she complain that Cailean had taken it upon himself to have her ride with him without so much as a by-your-leave.
In truth, she was glad of it. She felt exhausted and wrung out, and there was something reassuring about the cage of Cailean’s strong arms around her. He seemed as strong and solid as granite, and after the disquieting things she’d discovered at North Cove, that was exactly what she needed.
She had never sensed such malevolent magic as she had in the waters of the cove. During her work as a spellweaver, she had occasionally come across old magic, created for a dark purpose. But these were usually just weak curses set by someone with rudimentary gifts who wanted petty revenge for a perceived hurt. None of them ever held any real power.
But this…
This went deeper, further than anything she’d sensed before, and it was no third-rate village hedge witch who had set this. No, whoever or whatever had created this curse was powerful. Very powerful.
“Ye are quiet, lass,” Cailean said softly.
Rose blinked, coming out of her reverie. She was leaning back against Cailean’s warm chest, and she could feel his voice rumbling through his body.
“Am I? Sorry, I was just… thinking.”
“Thinking? A dangerous pursuit, I’m told.”
“Yeah, you’re not wrong.”
She bit her lip and then turned her head to look at him. His eyes, focused on the path ahead, flicked to her, and she could see that he was troubled, despite his light-hearted words. Who wouldn’t be troubled after what they’d seen?
She kept herself busy by studying the landscape as they rode, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anything that might give a clue as to what was going on here. The villages were emptier than they had been on the way out, with most folks busy out in the fields or on the water. She spotted fishing boats on the waves and groups of children shrieking and laughing as they played on the beaches, in the water as often as out of it.
A pang of anxiety went through her. What would happen to those children, those fishermen, those women working the fields if she couldn’t find a way to stop this curse-wrought sickness? In her mind’s eye she saw this place deserted, the beaches windswept and silent, the villages empty and forlorn. A shiver slid down her spine.
No, she told herself.I won’t let that happen. I swore I’d find a way to help these people, and that’s what I will do. Somehow.
She was glad when they arrived back at Dun Mallach.
Cailean guided Arrow into the courtyard where he pulled him to a halt. Two stable hands came running to take hold of his and Snip’sbridles as Cailean swung effortlessly down.
Then, before she could swing her leg over the saddle, he reached up, put his hands on her waist, and lifted her to the ground as if she weighed nothing at all.
Rose harrumphed as he set her on her feet. “Will you stop doing that? I’m not a sack of turnips.”
Amusement danced in his eyes. “Are ye sure? Ye ride like one.”
She didn’t dignify that with an answer. Instead, she made do with a glare.
“Come,” he said, ignoring her ire. “I have something to show ye.”
Rose followed him into the keep. Once inside, he led her along the wide, echoing passage that ran the length of the interior. They passed doors and rooms she’d not yet seen, some open and some closed, until Cailean came to a halt in a small, round antechamber with three doors leading off it.
Reaching beneath his tunic, he pulled out a key on a string, and unlocked one of the doors. Within, Rose found a small, neat room with a single wooden desk and two chairs.
Cailean looked around the room, his dark eyes scanning the well-kept space.
“I havenae been in this room for a long time,” he said, almost to himself. “This was my father’s study. He used to spend hours in here studying languages and history.” He smiled wryly. “And, I think, to escape the demands of the clan.”
Rose examined the space. There were several bookcases filled with rolled parchments, a number of quills laid out neatly on the desk along with an inkpot. A huge leather-bound book stood open on a stand, which she guessed was a Bible. The place spoke of scholarship and learning, and although Cailean might not have been here in a while, somebody still obviously kept the place scrupulously clean.
Cailean crossed to the bookcase, knelt, and scanned the bottom shelf, running his finger along the line of documents until he foundwhat he was looking for.
