“Use caution, little one.” Hall couldn’t keep himself from touching her one more time, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Remember that you’re not out there alone. We’re all in this together. Once Fenrir breaks from the confinement of the castle, you must wait. Don’t follow after him until the five of us regroup with you. We all must be there together to keep the circle tight around him.”
“I understand.” She smiled sadly, lifting a hand to his cheek before rising up on her toes to place her lips softly against his.
He crushed her to him, soaking in the moment as if it were his last.
She broke the kiss, her hands cupping his face, her eyes suspiciously bright. They didn’t speak as he lifted her to her saddle and she started off, him following along for a few steps.
“Keep to the cover of the trees,” he called out as she rode away.
As he watched her disappear into the forest, a misty cloud blurred his vision for the first time since his childhood.
A fine mess the Norns had woven for his lifepath this time. Not only could he not claim Bridget for his own, now he couldn’t even protect her as he wanted. He had done what little he could, leaving the ruby in her possession. It could end up being all that stood between her and Fenrir if their plan should go awry.
So much for the free will Orabilis and her kind espoused. The moment was out of his control. What would be, would be—the Norns had woven the threads of their lives long before he or Bridget had been born. They could only accept what the Norns had chosen for them as the path of their days.
Hall repeated every platitude he’d ever heard, in an attempt to ease the worry that wouldn’t be eased.
Events of this day would go according to plan. He would climb on his horse and head for the castle gates, exactly as...
His thoughts faltered to a stop as he noticed an oddity in the bush where Bridget’s horse had been tethered. In one spot, the branches of the hardy evergreen hung strangely askew.
He reached his hand inside the bush, fearing what he’d find there yet knowing what it would be before his fingers raked over the ancient sheepskin.
The scrolls, deliberately shoved into the branches to hide them. She’d never had any intention of following his plan.
She still intended to kill Torquil MacDowylt. And unless he acted quickly, she’d pay for her deception with her life. She’d pay for her deception with her soul.
“To hell with the Norns,” he growled, hoping against hope that Orabilis had been telling him the truth about the role his own free will could play.
Even if the old Faerie had been wrong, what did he have to fear at this point? What could the Norns do to him anyway? Snip his thread, ending the path his life traveled down?
If his current path included Bridget’s death, he had no desire to continue along that path anyway.
“Send your worst, old women,” he called out, snatching up the scrolls and running to his horse.
Hewouldprotect Bridget, and there was nothing any creature in any corner of this world or the next could do to stop him.
Thirty-two
CLOTHED IN THEbody of Torquil MacDowylt, Fenrir stalked across the bailey toward the barracks. He had grown used to this body, thinking of it as a second skin. But today it felt uncomfortable and foreign, like a wrong-size hand-me-down.
As if the Universe were trying to warn him of impending danger, his disquiet had been growing over the course of the last few days, and more than ever he mourned the loss of his own form.
All would be well once he had the scrolls and the sword back under lock and key. The anxiety plaguing him stemmed as much from his lack of control over the situation as anything else. After weeks with no results, he was tired of waiting.
It was time to send out another party of men.
Halfway to his destination, the air around him began to shimmer and his chest constricted with each breath he took. The five oozing sores around his heart throbbed as one, sending pain radiating out to his arms and legs.
Damned fragile Mortal body. Always some new way to harm it looming close at hand.
The air began to compress around him, packing in against his eardrums until he was forced to open his mouth wide to relieve the pressure.
What could this be? A storm coming? A new disease? Some new plant to which this body was sensitive? It could be almost anything, but it felt like no Mortal threat he’d previously encountered.
It felt almost like...
His foot slid to a stop on the gravel and he stilled, stretching out his senses in all directions to study the vibrations around him.
