“Why?” Malcolm asked. “Aren’t ye afraid I’ll burn down another village?”
Fire flashed in Callum’s eyes. “If ye do, then expect a harsher punishment than banishing.”
His brother’s piercing blue eyes settled on him with a look that said he wanted no argument and he meant what he said. The threat was real.
If that’s the way his brother wanted to do things, then he would pack up his horse and escort the Sinclair clan back to their keep as well as scout the area.
“When do we leave?”
***
Malcolm rode in solemn silence next to Angus Sinclair as they headed back to his keep. He hadn’t had much to say along the way and wasn’t interested in conversation. Sinclair wasn’tinterested in conversation, either. He’d lost men at the battle. He rode stiff and tall in the saddle. Despite the silence, Malcolm felt as though he should say something.
“Did my brother thank ye for coming to his aid?” Malcolm asked.
Angus gripped the reins tighter in his hands, his eyes forward. “Aye.”
He didn’t seem to want to elaborate, which made it difficult for Malcolm to continue on. Still, he tried. “Good. I want to thank ye, too.”
“’Twas a strange thing to see,” Angus said, as if he hadn’t spoken.
Confused, he drew his brows together. “What was a strange thing?”
“The lass.” Angus turned to him and gave him a pointed look.
He didn’t have to explain for Malcolm to know what he meant. He referred to Evie. He thought back to the way she had stood on the battlefield with her hand glowing, that feral look in her deep brown eyes, and her fiery red hair whipping around her face in the wind, the way she knelt on the ground with her fisted hand and how it had rumbled. There was something mystical about it.
He, of course, understood what it was. She had held the keystone in her hand, the stone they were prophesized to protect. He didn’t know if Sinclair would understand that.
“Is she a witch?” Angus asked.
Malcolm managed to suppress the chortle that wanted to erupt. “She is no witch.”
“Then what is she?” Angus gave him a glance that was full of curiosity tinged with fear.
“She’s no to be feared,” he replied.
But Angus had more questions. “What did she have in her hand that MacDonald wanted? What trickery did she use to subdue the men? There was a flash of light and—”
“Aye, there was a flash of light,” Malcolm agreed with a nod. “But it was nothing more than lightning.”
Angus gave him a sour look. “Och, laddie, do ye think me daft? Dinnae tell me falsehoods for I ken the truth of it. There was no lightning that night. What was it the lass did? Tell me truly.”
He cut him a glance and saw the man was not going to leave the subject alone. He wanted answers and he wanted the truth. Dare Malcolm tell him the truth? Would he believe in the prophecy as he and his brothers did? Or would he thinkhewas the daft one?
He took a deep, cleansing breath. “There’s an old story about a keystone. One that was split into three pieces by the Goddess of the Present herself. One that controls all of Time. It’s powerful and dangerous.”
Angus stared at him a long moment as they rode on, then he threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, lad, that’s the best story I’ve heard all day.”
“No, Da, he tells ye the story true.” Duncan Sinclair rode up next to them, slowing his mount to a trot as he did so.
Duncan was the spitting image of his father. Red hair kissed by the sun, a full, thick beard covering his face, and cool gray-blue eyes that missed nothing.
Angus glanced over at his son and shook his head. “Dinnae tell me ye believe in this falsehood of a story?”
“Have ye never heard the story?” Duncan asked, as he peered around Malcolm to look at his father. “The story of the goddess who shattered time to save it.”
“Och, ’tis nothing but a myth.” Angus dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand.
