I sigh. To lose everything so young, then to be raised byDonag?
“I thought Poppa’s cousin Irene was scary.” I try for a weak smile. “But Donag’s an actual witch.”
His voice softens. “I work to forgive her. She’s lost much. And Gregor was killed only recently. Her grief is still raw.”
I hold his eyes, then finally give a grudging nod. “Fine. Grief has made her…erratic.”
“Aye. Though she soon realized her error. Campbell made all suffer for Janet’s disappearance.”
“So she tried to summon my mother back to fix it?” At his nod, I press on. “Okay, one problem. She wanted Janet. But I’m not her.”
“No indeed.” A small laugh escapes him, as though the idea is absurd. “There’s no confusing the two of you.”
It stings. “I know. She’s sooo pretty.”
Agitation flashes across Callum’s face. “You misunderstand. Janet is…” His expression shifts as he studies me. “You are not as…”
“Go ahead. Say it. I’m not as what?”Feminine? Mysterious? Charismatic? Beautiful?
His jaw tightens. Then, with a sharp nod, he seems to resolve something. I brace for the worst.
“I told you how you’ll survive here, aye? That you can do it? Donag’s curse calling you here is proof of my words.”
I narrow my eyes. “Yeah. And what exactly did that mean?”
“For the summoning to work, Donag used a rag with a bit of Janet’s blood. But you share her bloodline. The curse called forth a lass ‘fierce as the sun.’ Don’t you see?”
He pauses meaningfully, but I don’t see. Not at all.
“Donag thought she was calling Janet.” His gazesearches my face. “But it was you. You are braver than your mother. Stronger.”
Stronger. Braver.Could that be true? Nobody’s ever said I’manythingmore than Janet.
I blink. “You’re saying I’m braver than my mother?”
His touch is easy, a reassuring squeeze on my arm. “I’m saying you can do this.”
For the first time, I almost believe him.
I look at him, really look, and he meets my gaze without hesitation. There’s a question in his gray eyes, as if he’s trying to puzzle out the secret heart of me.
I’m the first to look away, but my focus lands on the bruise along his cheekbone, a stark bloom of purple. I want to trace its outline, to erase the shadows. Above his eyebrow, a scab has formed—the red-black crescent a perfect echo of Campbell’s ring. The one he was wearing when he hit Callum.
Would it match the ring hanging around my neck?
I step away. “I still don’t understand how someone can travel through time. Isn’t the past already set in stone?”
“Donag explained it once. How time isn’t a river, flowing in one direction. ’Tis more like a loch, surrounding us.”
“Until we paddle too far and drown?”
A laugh cracks from him. “No, Rosie.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Youfloat in the middle. Like a selkie queen.”
The comment is both thrilling and unsettling. I blurt, “I can’t be the strongest Campbell girl in all of history. What was the whole curse?”
“It went something like…” He considers for a moment, then recites:
“We summon a lass, hair red as kite’s wing.
