CHAPTER 3
PRESENT DAY
Skye drew in a panicked,ragged breath, pressing her hands against Evander’s chest, pushing him back.
His eyes flashed with alarm. “Lass? What is it?”
“I…” she stammered, trying to put her thoughts in proper order. “Nothing.”
His eyebrows turned down. “Nothing? Ye went as white as a sheet.”
She cleared her throat, rubbing the back of her hand across her cheek. “I am surprised that ye could tell, with all this grime. I cannae wait for a bath.”
Something like concern flickered in his eyes.
Skye frowned. Concern? For her? That didn’t seem right.
If they were married—and she’d believe it when she saw the marriage contract—then it could only have been a marriage of convenience. He hadn’t mentioned any deeper feelings, and really, she was relieved. Yes, she was. It made things simpler.
She looked at him more closely.
His clothes sagged around his frame, as though he’d lost weight recently. There was a fresh scar curling around the side of his neck, pink and raised, healed but not quite settled yet.
A wound like that on the neck was a sure sign of a dangerous battle. That sort of wound could kill a person in the blink of an eye. Judging from where the healing scar sat on his neck, it had missed one of his arteries by half an inch.
Half an inch from death. He’s been fighting. And those dark circles under his eyes didnae spring up overnight. He said that he’d been searching, that he’d burned down villages… for me?
Blinking, Skye drew in a breath, lowering herself onto the stool Evander had recently vacated.
“Do ye think me memories will return?” she whispered. “A whole year gone. It… it terrifies me.”
He took a step toward her, lowering himself into a crouch and peering up at her. The faint smell of petrichor and horse sweat wafted up from him, and she frowned.
I cannae shake this familiarity. I daenae ken him. I daenae have any memory of him. I daenae.
“I’m sure they will,” he responded quietly. “We’ll find out what happened to ye, Skye. I promise ye that.”
Before she could reply, a commotion burst out outside. A soldier gabbled, panicked, his words incoherent. Skye’s head snapped up as a familiar voice answered.
“I daenae give a witch’s curse if he’s busy or nae. Me cousin is in there, and I am going in.”
Evander heaved a sigh. “Ah, Creighton has arrived.”
An instant later, a tall, grim man shouldered his way through the tent flap, breathing heavily. His eyes glittered, and his fists clenched at his sides, as if bracing himself for a fight. His gaze fell on Skye, and his eyes widened.
“Skye,” he breathed. “It is ye. Ye are back!”
“Aye, it…” Skye began, but that was all she had time to say before her cousin pounced on her, dragging her into his arms in a bone-crushing embrace.
“Steady on, man. Let her breathe,” Evander sighed.
Creighton pulled back and turned a narrow-eyed glare on him. “This better nae be a trick, Bryden. If I find out that ye were behind her disappearance in any way…” He clenched his jaw and turned back to Skye. “What happened, then?”
“I daenae ken,” she confessed. “I woke up in a tent an hour or so ago, and believed I was at last year’s Leanan Festival. I thought it was the day of the bride swap. I… I daenae remember anything beyond getting ready that morning. I daenae remember Evander or anything that happened in the past year.”
He blinked. “How? An entire year, just gone?”
“Aye. I can hardly believe it meself,” she murmured. “It’s… It’s terrifying.”
