Page 56 of Fletcher

Lark hurried down the passage toward the stairs that would take her to the guest chamber, and then hesitated as she tried to remember if she’d brought it with her clothes to Fletcher’s room. Since his chamber was closer, she decided to stop there first.

As she approached the door she saw it was standing open, and heard two voices coming from inside. She went to peek in and saw Fletcher and Shaw looking at a mangled circlet of the violet-gold metal worn by the Finfolk.

“I shall show Nyall, so he may ask the commander,” her lover was saying. “Jamaran shall ken if ’twas Freja’s.”

“’Twas gnawed like the trotter bones, and stinks of rot and their magic,” the chieftain said, pointing to several dents. “Dinnae tell the commander I found the thing. You and I… We shall speak on such later.” He turned his head and met her gaze. “Come in, lass, for I’m just leaving now.”

Lark slipped into the chamber, giving Shaw an uneasy look as he passed her.

Fletcher set aside the mangled metal piece and gave her a decidedly forced smile. “What brings you here, my lass?”

“I thought I might have left my sewing kit here,” she said, and reached out to touch his arm. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but if that metal thing belonged to Freja, does that mean the shark killed her?”

“We’re no’ certain,” he admitted. “My brother found the piece washed ashore at dawn, some leagues away from the bay. The currents there come from the depths in the Great Sound. ’Tis a stretch of water between Caladh and the mainland,” he added when she gave him a puzzled look.

“You’re planning to go with Shaw out there and hunt the shark, aren’t you?” When he avoided her gaze she knew that was why the chieftain had left. “Shouldn’t you let the Selseus do that?”

“Merrick’s agreed henceforth the clan shall deal with the white-mouth.” He drew her close, wrapping his arms around her. “’Tis a matter of keeping peace between us by enforcing some distance between the MacMar and the Finfolk.”

“Because of what happened to me and Idonea.” When he didn’t say anything she glanced up at him, and saw a flicker of anger in his eyes. “They’re not going to exile that boy who tried to abduct me, are they?”

“The blame, ’twas shifted to Merrick’s heir, who encouraged the lad to break their laws,” Fletcher said. “The king disowned Prince Bered and seized all his property and possessions. The elders ordered Tethys serve as Merrick’s attendant, and banned him from mating for two centurials.”

Lark imagined how the rest of the Selseus had reacted to the harsh punishments. “Are they blaming me, too?”

“They watched you lift an islet from the sea,” he reminded her. “However they regard you, my lass, I reckon they wish never again anger you in any fashion.”

“Well, at least some good came from that. If only they’d do the same with you.” A gasp left her as Fletcher lifted her off her feet and carried her over to the bed. “I just came here for my sewing box, sir.”

“I shall help you look,” he said against her lips as he dropped onto the coverlet with her. “Mayhap ’tis fallen down your bodice.”

Shaw went to the garrison hall to find Nyall, who was assigning night patrol duty routes to his men in the map room. As he waited for him to finish he wondered if he should leave Fletcher behind and hunt the white-mouth alone. The chance to kill a killer seldom came his way. At the same time he knew his younger brother’s temper had yet to subside since the attack on the wee lass, and how dangerous that could prove. Left unchecked, the rage would swell until Fletcher snapped again.

Unless the time had arrived that his will would crumble for good, a notion that ever danced on the fringe of his thoughts.

“I dinnae care for the look on your face,” the captain said once the last of the men had left the map room.

“Then you shallnae care for my news.” Shaw straightened and came in, closing the door behind him before he related what he’d found washed ashore. “’Tis likely the circlet belonged to Freja, and ’twas torn from her corpse somewhere in the sound.”

Nyall peered at him. “You’re mistaken. Never do Finfolk females stray so far from the settlement. Freja shouldnae leave her son behind so she might make a crossing. ’Tis no one and naught on the mainland for her.”

“You reckon she willingly entered the sound,” he told him. “I’ll wager her body drifted there after someone ended her.”

“Freja belonged to the last of the first Finfolk,” the captain said, sounding surly now. “Among them she still held high rank and much standing, but like all their females no true power. Luring her away and slaying her, ’twould serve no purpose.”

“No purpose we may yet fathom,” Shaw corrected. “Ask Jamaran who should benefit from the widow’s death. Mayhap ’tis a matter involving her son or her dead husband that we dinnae ken. On the morrow Fletch and I shall sail the Great Sound and hunt the white-mouth.”

“You cannae spy a shark from a boat,” Nyall said, and then scowled as he realized what Shaw wasn’t telling him. “You mean swim the sound with a wounded foot?”

“Fletch shall man the harpoon from the boat,” he said, striving to sound bland. “We cannae catch the beast unless we dangle some bait.”

The captain’s expression grew outraged. “You cannae do thus, Brother. I shall tell the laird you mean meet your end by shark, and he shall lock you in the dungeons.”

He’d always worried that Duncan would ferret out his intent, but he’d forgotten how Nyall noticed things others never saw, especially furtive schemes.

“I’d ask you think again,” he said gently. “Never once you’ve seen me as the thing that served the Pritani. When I become that, and someday soon I shall, Captain, I shall kill without hesitation, remorse or relenting.”

Pain flickered through Nyall’s dark eyes. “Surely no’. ’Tis been centuries since your enslavement.”