Page 21 of Fletcher

“She neednae concern herself.” Although Fiacail knew Dearg had become the enchantress’s favorite, Derdrui didn’t entirely understand what it was to be half mortal. Their sovereign had never seen a Cait Sith go insane, and might order them to permit their sister to live, which would endanger them all. “I shall see the thing done quickly, while the enchantress sleeps.”

“Would you vow do the same for me when my mind empties?” As she stared at her Speal shrugged. “’Tis said such comes with great age.”

She hated that she would even ask such a thing, but understood. “If you pledge see to me, aye.”

Speal gave her a quick, hard embrace, and then trudged up onto the boat. Fiacail stayed on the docks and watched the mortals passing the vessel until her sisters released the mooring ropes. Something made her turn around at the top of the gangway, and she saw a small cluster of men dressed in dusty traveling garments. Hoods covered their faces, but in the shadows cast over their features she saw their eyes glowing with eerie green light.

“Magic folk.” Derdrui appeared beside her, and pulled back the hood of her own cloak to reveal her darkly beautiful countenance. “I think it must be centuries since any dared approach me when I traveled the mortal realm. Those who did…” She trailed off into an amused titter.

It should have gladdened Fiacail to see the group of druids suddenly turn at the sight of the enchantress, and hurry back toward town, but she knew how powerful their magic could be. A thousand years ago four of her sisters had slain some druidesses in order to infiltrate a tribe of the same. Their headman had not only realized they were shape shifters, but had slain three of them by tossing some golden berries and muttering a few words. He’d sent the only surviving Cait Sith to Fiacail to tell her of the justice he’d served, and a warning never to cross the druids again.

Dearg had admitted to slaughtering most of the local tribe she had gone to question about the MacMar, including their women and children. Fiacail knew the magic-wielders would not forgive that. As for the enchantress, once she settled her grudge she would likely abandon the Cait Sith so she could seek her own pleasures, leaving them alone to face the wrath of the druids. Fiacail could no more hate Derdrui than her own sisters, but in this moment she wished again she could find her Fae sire and tear him apart.

“You shall never know your parent, my dear one,” the enchantress said, stroking the back of her head as if she were a beloved pet. “Indeed, none of you ever should have been born. That is why I came to you, so you might at least learn what you are, and have a chance to survive your wretched circumstances.” Her fingers curled into Fiacail’s hair, yanking it from her scalp. “I trusted you to repay my benevolence, and find the MacMar Clan. You have not made good on your promise to serve me well.”

When Fiacail had been a young bairn her sire had often seized her by the hair to drag her to his woodshed for a thrashing, and beat her with a willow switch until the weals cracked and bled. All that pain she had suffered at the hands of that brutal blacksmith came back to her, and she let it engulf her entirely, fueling the rage that had kept her fighting for her life for close to a thousand years.

“Apologies, my sovereign,” she said through teeth elongating into fangs. “After this voyage, you shall have them all at your feet.”

Derdrui smiled. “Oh, depend on that. Now, set sail for that island of pigs. We shall establish a new home for ourselves there.”

Connal looked up as his wife slipped into his study carrying two steaming mugs and a scroll under one arm. She had piled her curls into a bubbly crown, which the lantern light made gleam as if spun from real gold. Her pretty face lit up with her smile, but her flowery blue eyes remained grave.

“Why do you the work of serving maids?” he asked.

“Since Brochan left the stronghold they’re all helping out in the kitchen with the baking, and I was coming up here to bother you anyway.” She placed both mugs on the table where he was writing replies to the day’s messages before she offered him the scroll. “The ferryman sent this over with Shaw, who said it’s for you. The chieftain would have brought it up himself, but he said Fletcher needed him to look at something right away.”

Ordinarily Connal would have set the scroll aside, but MacLeir would not send a trifling message. Nor would Shaw press Valerie to deliver it directly unless he thought it worrisome. Quickly he broke the seal and glanced over the Fae writing inside.

“Not good news, then, I take it,” Valerie said after he muttered something vile.

He rose and went over to cast the scroll in the hearth. His first instinct was to tell his wife all would be well, but she was no easily-frightened lass. Like his first love, Joana, Valerie had courage, strength and wisdom in abundance. Keeping her ignorant of the troubles the clan faced would also deprive him of her counsel, upon which he had come to depend.

Connal went over to draw her into his arms. “MacLeir has men on the mainland watching the docks at Aberdeen. They saw the enchantress and her Cait Sith set sail at midday, so she’s on the hunt for us yet again. There’s also a report that the night before they left, the druid settlement just outside the town there came under attack. Most of that tribe, they’re dead. The ferryman wishes share what we ken with the council of druids.”

“Do you think the enchantress attacked the druids?” When he nodded his wife shuddered. “How horrible. But how could the watchers in Aberdeen report all this to MacLeir so fast?”

“I’d ask him, but in telling me he’d likely destroy the island.” Connal kissed her pretty lips. “Our worry, ’tisnae MacLeir. I’d hoped the druids in Aberdeen might aid us with returning Mistress Ambrose.”

“You should still ask the council for help. They’ll probably be grateful for you telling them about Derdrui and her crew.” Valerie’s brows drew together. “I really do think it’s best to try whatever we can to send Lark back to the future. She’s not adjusting well to the twelfth century. Mostly she stays in the guest room. After the argument she had with Fletcher this morning I think she’ll probably barricade herself in there.”

Thanks to Shaw he’d already heard about the scene between the seneschal and the seamstress. “Idonea’s long needed a skilled helper. Mayhap Mistress Ambrose may lend her talents for a time. She seems quite content to sew all day, from what I’m told.”

“I’ll talk to her about it.” Her beautiful eyes met his. “You need to settle things with Merrick about Lark, too. She’s scared enough; I don’t want the king making her arrival into another test of the truce.”

“I shall speak with him on the matter before week’s end,” Connal promised as a knock sounded, and Nyall came in.

“That’s my cue to let you get on with your day,” Valerie said, smiling at the captain before kissing the laird’s cheek and leaving.

“Your pardon, my lady.” The captain of the guard bowed to her, and then closed the door before approaching Connal. “Seneschal discovered why the new lambs disappeared, my lord.”

After Nyall related what Fletcher and Brochan had found, Connal pulled down a map of the bay and spread it on the table.

“We should blockade every cove and inlet where the shark might lurk,” he told the captain, and pointed to the various locations he knew to be deep enough to harbor a white-mouth. “Set the carpenters to build temporary wattle fences along these shores by the outlying villages, high enough to keep their younglings from scaling them. If the beast can take a lamb, ’twill take a bairn.” He saw the captain’s expression and frowned. “You’ve a different notion?”

“No, my lord. ’Tis the manner of the attacks by the creature that fashes me. If I may?” At his nod Nyall picked up the quill and made two small marks on the map. “The severed hand of the drowned mortal, ’twas found here, near the islet where the eldest Finfolk go so they may die.” He ran his finger from that spot to the cove where Fletcher had collected the lamb bones. “If the white-mouth came from there hunting food, the beast couldnae avoid the Finfolk settlement. Their sentinels, they’d spot the shark at once.”

“Mayhap the thing came from the opposite side,” Connal suggested. “Merrick bid all sharks leave the settlement alone.”