Page 18 of Enchanted

He frowned. “You were not educated as your brother was?”

“I was allowed to participate in his lessons only until my parents died. Then my brother approved only of me studying music.” She couldn’t hide the smile that came to her lips. “But that did not stop me from sneaking into the study in the middle of the night to read from his books. Since I already knew how to read and write, I was able to teach myself Greek and Latin, mathematics, history, and geography.”

Keiran’s eyes widened. “That is impressive.”

“I can teach all of that to you, if you’ll allow it.”

He nodded. “Let us start lessons tomorrow at sunrise. Meet me at the courtyard wall and I will show you yet another secret place.”

“You do not wish your family to know about your lessons?”

He shook his head. “If you do not mind, I would like to keep this between you and me for now.”

“I understand. I know the feeling of being less than others. My brother made me feel that way daily.”

“Why was he forcing you to marry an Englishman stationed in Scotland?”

She dropped her gaze to her midriff, where the wound she’d sustained had fully healed. “I am not ready to share that story yet.”

“I understand,” he said echoing her earlier words.

Rosalyn pressed her lips together as her thoughts shifted back to the woods, the men who had attacked her, and the sword that had pierced her body. “I was dying. I know that for a fact. I felt it in every part of my soul.” She brought her gaze back to Keiran’s. “How did you heal me and help me survive? Warmth flowed from your hands into my body. I remember that part clearly, though not much else.”

Keiran was about to respond when a white mist suddenly appeared in the doorway. There you two are. I could feel your presence but not your exact location, Lady Janet said with a hint of sorrow. I do believe that in becoming more human, I have lost some of my abilities.

Rosalyn held back a cry of distress as she scurried behind Keiran, trying to make herself as small as possible as the ghostly image floated forward. Why was Keiran not afraid?

“Mother,” he greeted, then looked back at Rosalyn. “She will not hurt you. Come see,” he said, offering his hand.

It is all right, child. I mean you no harm.

Rosalyn looked over Keiran’s shoulder to see a grey female figure that in the shifting morning light could look either translucent or solid, though she moved about not on legs, but on a floating grey mist. Rosalyn ignored Keiran’s outstretched hand as she straightened and came to stand beside him. “You can talk? How is this possible?”

“Do not try to understand it. Just accept all this for what it is . . . a miracle.” Keiran smiled at Rosalyn. “My mother died many years ago, but by the power of her love, she is still with us.” As he turned back to the ghost, his smile slipped. “My brothers have led me to believe that you often present yourself when there is some sort of danger. Is that why you are here?”

Aye, my son. I can sense someone is coming.

“The English?” Keiran tensed.

Aye and nay. Two Englishmen are close, but they do not come for the MacLeods.The grey ghost turned towards Rosalyn. They come for her.

Rosalyn drew a shaky breath. “For me?”

Keiran’s eyes turned stormy. “I made certain no one followed us yesterday. How could anyone possibly know you are here? God’s blood. We need to tell Alastair so that he can enhance the castle’s security.” He took one of Rosalyn’s hands in his own. “No one will get to you. Not here behind these walls.”

Had those who had tried to kill her yesterday come back to finish the task? Her free hand balled into a fist before she could force herself to relax. She had to believe she was safe with the MacLeods. Thinking any other way would only make her feel more defeated and alone than ever before.

You are not alone.

Rosalyn started at the words that invaded her thoughts. Keiran must have heard them too for he nodded as if in agreement. “You can read my thoughts?”

I can read your thoughts and sense your fear, Rosalyn de Clare. My son is right, you are safe for now, but he must alert the laird to the coming danger.The ghost shifted left and right, her agitation growing. Keiran, my son, it is not only the English who come. There is another. I cannot tell for certain who it is, but I sense fairy blood.

“Fairy blood? Why would—” Rosalyn started to ask, but when Keiran’s expression hardened, the rest of her words died on her tongue.

“I thought I would have more time.” Keiran’s jaw tightened. “Come, Rosalyn. We must find Alastair and warn him of what may lie ahead.” Keiran encouraged her to fall in step with him as he left the chapel and returned to the keep. The ghost trailed close behind them.

“What is it, Keiran? What is wrong?” Rosalyn asked, as she hurried to keep up with his longer stride.

“I had hoped beyond hope that I would have a long period of peace and contentment here at Dunvegan, but that is not to be if I am correct about the challenge before us.”

What challenge? What could be worse than a patrol of angry Englishmen who wanted to smite her from this earth?

The fairy king, my dear,the ghost answered in her thoughts. An angry, vengeful fairy who was bested by the MacLeods and now wants revenge.

*

Something had sensedhis presence in the spirit realm. Oberon paused, floating in the in-between spaces of that world. He still did not have the strength to break free and emerge into the human realm, but he would once his body completed the final stage of regeneration. He still had to punish all the fairies who had helped to vaporise every part of him—body and spirit—into the nether regions, but that could wait until he took revenge on the MacLeods.

Aria, Graeme, Pearl, and Gille—with the help of the fairies—had almost destroyed him. They would have succeeded if he hadn’t used all his magic to shield his soul from obliteration. With that one small part of himself intact, he had been able to draw residual amounts of life force from others in the underworld until his fairy form had returned. He wasn’t as he had once been, but his translucent form was a step in the right direction. He would be whole again, in time. For now, it was enough that he’d been able to shift from the underworld into the spirit realm.

He would continue to gather what life force he could from the spirits trapped in this realm with him, and once he gathered enough energy into his form, he could transform back to the being he had been for centuries. Fairy magic could change shape, but it could not be eliminated, he had learned from this experience. But the humans and fairies who had dared to cross him, and who were nowhere near as powerful as he, would rue the day he became whole again.

Anticipation flared inside Oberon as he floated in the timeless space that held him. It would not do to simply kill those who had crossed him. He wanted to make them suffer as he had, to feel the torment he’d experienced as he floated in an eternity of nothingness. He would take back the precious Fairy Flag, then strike the MacLeods and make them writhe, beg, and finally welcome their own deaths to stop the misery Oberon would deliver.

With a renewed sense of power, he swirled in the mist that held him. Hunger for revenge raked his soul. Very soon, he would once again take shape, and then he would be unstoppable.