Rose squeezed her shoulder. “I know you won’t.”
Straightening, Rose turned and made her way behind the stables to where a row of wagons was being loaded with supplies. Her eyes sprang to the man overseeing it all.
Cailean had rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt and was busy lifting sacks of supplies and bundles of timber onto the wagons with his men. He hadn’t spotted her, and his features wore an intense expression as he worked. His movements were precise and economical, the muscles of his arms and shoulders bunching and flexing as he heaved the sacks up onto his broad shoulders before depositing them into the wagon bed.
Rose found herself staring, mesmerized by the flex of his shoulders, by the way his hair brushed his neck as he moved, by the veins that stood out in his neck as he heaved the heavy sacks onto the cart. It was ridiculous. She was a grown woman and yet her traitorous stomach kept tying itself in knots whenever she looked at him.
He glanced over and spotted her. Something in his expression softened and, barking orders to his men, he tossed the sack in his arms over to one of them and strode towards her.
“What is it, lass?” he rumbled. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she replied. “I just wanted to let you know that the villagers from Hemkirk have just arrived. They’ve taken up your offer of sanctuary after all.”
His dark eyes flicked in the direction of the gates. “Good. That’s good.”
“Um. There’s something else,” she continued. “Agnes said that it was the storm yesterday that changed their mind. They saw the same stormlights that Seamus and Brina did. Out in the bay, only it sounds as though they were far stronger near Hemkirk and there was lightning that struck the ground out there.”
That got his attention. He frowned, jaw tightening. “Where exactly?”
“I don’t know. The beach. Some of the islets out in the bay. But I want to go and check it out.”
“No,” Cailean said sharply. “Absolutely not.”
“What? Why not?”
“There’s another storm coming,” he said, gesturing at the sky which was black and angry. “Ye saw what the last one did. I willnae risk ye—or anyone—on a half-remembered tale and superstition.”
“It’s not just a tale,” she insisted. “Youknowit isn’t.
His hands clenched and unclenched. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Ye arenotgoing, Rose. Not until the weather improves. That is final.”
He turned and stalked off, shoulders rigid, gait clipped. Rose glared after him, teeth clenched in annoyance. With a huff, she spun and stomped back to the castle, not stopping until she reached the study where she slammed the door behind her and threw herself into the chair. Who did he think he was ordering her around?
But, she had to admit, she could feel the storm that Cailean predicted beginning to break. The shutters on the window rattled and another curtain of gray rain came sheeting down, turning the view through the window misty and vague.
Her senses tingled. The air felt charged, full of an ominous potential. Her MacFinnan blood stirred. The instinct that had guided her all her life was pulsing now, hot and urgent. This was no ordinary storm.
She had to get to Hemkirk. She knew it in her bones. Whatever secrets this island was hiding, this was her chance to discover them.
Snatching up her cloak, she wrapped it tightly around her shoulders and left the study. She slipped through the corridors with silent steps, avoiding servants and loitering guards, thankful for the noise of the gathering storm that covered her footsteps. She paused on entering the courtyard, looking around for Cailean. She could hear him and hismen still battling to load the carts on the other side of the stables, but they were not in sight. Good. She hurried across the courtyard without being spotted.
The horses nickered as she entered the stable and shifted uneasily, unnerved by the thunder that rumbled overhead and the patter of rain on the roof.
Only one of them seemed unfazed. Snip, the sturdy mare who had carried her the other day was munching lazily on a bale of hay attached to her stall. Rose approached and stroked her muzzle. “You’ll take me, won’t you, girl? And you already know the way.”
The horse whinnied softly as if in agreement. Moments later, Rose had her saddled and was leading her out into the yard. The wind tugged at her hair, and thunder rolled over the sea. Rain obscured everything beyond a few feet.
She swung up into the saddle and, pulling her hood up over her head, she guided the horse down the slope, away from the keep. Toward Hemkirk. Toward the truth that awaited her there.
*
The wind lashedthe courtyard like a vengeful spirit, sending Cailean’s hair whipping around his head and rattling the shutters on the keep’s windows as if hungry to get inside. With an annoyed growl, he clenched his fists, raw and red from hauling timber. Would there never be a let up? His people had barely recovered from yesterday’s storm and yet here another one was, hot on the tails of its predecessor. What had they done to anger the gods so?
Around him, his men moved in a frenzy, lashing woven covers over the wagons, securing supplies in the storehouse, and shouting to one another over the rising gale. When this was done, he bellowed at them to get inside but as they obeyed, he didn’t follow. Soon he was the only one left in the courtyard, but he didn’t move as the wind torethrough and freezing rain began to fall in earnest, pelting into his face like tiny shards of glass.
Anger and frustration roiled inside him, every bit as wild as the gathering storm. In fact, it fit his mood perfectly. He’d been unsettled ever since Rose had told him what she’d discovered about the stormlights and that unease had not abated since. In fact, it had only grown worse. Gods. Curses. Magic. How was he supposed to deal with such things?
He shook his head, wiping a hand across his face. It would do no good standing here like this. He jogged across the courtyard and into the keep, slamming the big doors behind him and cutting out the worst of the wind. The din of conversation came from his right, indicating that his people were beginning to congregate in the great hall as they often did to wait out the storm.
