“She didn’t. The curse was meant to summon Janet.”
I put up a hand. “Hang on. How does she know my mother? And why is a portrait of Janet in Campbell’s castle? Have these people been to the future?”
“Och, no?—”
“I mean, what the hell? Are there, like, flights to and from the past out of JFK?”
“Janet was born here,” he says, speaking over me. “In 1603.”
“What? No.”
It’s too much. How did she end up in the future? How did she survive?
Then it hits me. My father.He must’ve been her safe harbor.
I look up at Callum. Because here I am, relying on another man.
Well, if Janet could hack the seventeenth century, then so can I. “She really came from here.” It’s not a question.
Callum says nothing, just watches as it sinks in.
Una said my mother knew all the old songs. Spoke the old tongue. And Janet’s bedtime stories were all sieges, clanwars, bloodied swords. No fairy tales, no princesses, just brutal history. I remember, in third grade, telling her I didn’t care about Scotland. That everybody knew the cute princes lived in England.
She’d hatedthat. The stories stopped. So did the songs.
Were they just stories…or had she been trying to tell me about her life?
A cold weight settles over me. We treated her like she was just someone to tolerate, but maybe she was scared. Confused. Lonely. So why hadn’t she been kinder to me? We could’ve been a team. She could’ve made me feel loved.
I’d have lovedher, with all my heart.
“But why—?” My voice cracks.
Callum waits, his expression unreadable. Then I realize he’s touching me, his hand tracing slow, gentle circles along my upper arm.
Heat rises to my cheeks. I look away. Even his kindness is intense.
He drops his hand. Clearing his throat, he shifts. “It begins with the Campbell. He rules these parts. You must be wary. He’s not been the same since Janet, that is, your mum, disappeared. She was his beloved bride?—”
I snap my head up. “But he’s so old.”
“True enough. His first wife died, and Janet was found to take her place. Your mother was of the Craignish Campbells. A known beauty.”
“Of course she was.”
He ignores my grumbling. “She pleased him, spirited as she was?—”
“Spirited.” I roll my eyes. “Sothat’sthe word for it?”
His lips twitch. “—and young enough to bear him a passel of bairns.”
“What’s that?”
“Bairns?” He frowns. “It means babes. Children?”
“Got it. Campbell wanted Janet to have his babies.” I chuff a laugh. “Join the club. But fair warning—she’s not a fan of kids.”
An invisible fist clenches my throat, and I gulp it away.
