Page 33 of Shaw

“I fear no’.” Trabalar’s expression grew pained. “From what your laird wrote, ’tis remained bonded with you these many centuries. ’Twill stretch beneath your skin and entwine with your flesh and bone. I reckon ’tis as much part of you as your own blood.”

“MacLeir, give us the boat for a moment, I beg you,” Shaw said.

As the ferryman nodded and moved past him, he pressed one of his big hands on his shoulder in a rough, comforting touch. It made him want to howl, for MacLeir had never before shown him any pity or compassion, even when he’d brought him back after the clan’s rescue. That more than anything told him he should do as he’d always resolved to in the end.

’Twillnae end until I do, and ’tis only one sure means of such.

“Before you ask what you wish of me, Chieftain, you should ken that I cannae slay another being,” the druid said once MacLeir was out of earshot. “Nor shall the council condone any of druid kind ending you. Doing thus, ’twould invite the wrath of many old gods.”

“I dinnae wish ask you or your kind kill me,” he told him. “Yet what I shall speak on now, you must pledge you shallnae repeat to the laird or anyone.” Once the druid dutifully swore he would keep silent, he said, “Ken you the lands of the northwest? ’Tis said a great island there called Gardarsholmur. ’Twas settled by the Norse.”

“I ken of that land, aye,” the druid said. “Some of our traveling brethren trade with those who dwell there. They no longer raid, and as such remain at odds with the Norse who go a-viking.”

“’Tis said there one may find in that land fire mountains that spew smoke and molten rock,” Shaw said.

“The eldfjall, aye.” Trabalar looked puzzled now. “The Norse settlement there doesnae kindly welcome visitors keen on exploration, if you reckon sailing there.”

“I shallnae trouble the Norse. I but need a map that shows the location of the closest fire mountain from the shore.” As Trabalar started to speak he touched his chest where the new ink had appeared. “Yesterday ’twasnae any skinwork here. The marks of the beast, ’tis now spreading like rot. I need visit the fire mountain before the darkness devours my mind and heart.”

The druid winced. “You tempt me break the vow I just made. How should you come to such a sorrowful decision, Chieftain? Surely ’tis some hope of containing the spirit. We druids ken many powerful spells. Indeed, with your leave I shallnae rest until I discover such that shall aid you–”

“Lad, please.” Shaw reached out with his unmarked hand and touched his shoulder in the same way MacLeir had shown his compassion. “I’ve lived with the beast since boyhood. I’ve fought so I might keep myself sane and whole and serve as a prison, no’ a slave. I just spent the best night of my life in the arms of a lady I could love, had the Pritani no’ marked me. The beast desires her for what reason, I dinnae ken, only ’twill prove her doom. ’Tis for her sake and that of my brothers and their vassals that I must win the battle I’ve fought so long before this thing, ’tis set free. Help me, I beg you.”

The druid rubbed his good eye, leaving the side of his finger wet. “Aye, Chieftain. I shall find the map you need.”

Nyall sent a guard to the tide pools with a message for Caroline, summoning her to the stronghold to meet with Valerie before the morning meal. Since the laird’s wife rarely asked for her, she grudgingly stopped her gathering. Once inside the stronghold she stopped by the kitchens long enough to hand off what oysters and urchins she’d already collected for the cook.

“Och, if only you’d no’ wed the captain,” Brochan said, sighing with delight as he inspected her haul. “I’d whisk you off your feet in a blink, my lass.”

“Pay me in flour, don’t regale me with your lustful regrets,” Caroline advised him drily, and then thought of something. “Have you met Julianne yet?”

“Mistress Scott? Aye. She hardly spared me a glance.” He scowled. “She’s every man’s dream wife, yet no one may challenge the chieftain his first claim. I expect I’ll dance at their wedding before summer’s end.”

That surprised her. “You think Shaw’s going to marry her that fast? Why?”

“He yet follows the lady everywhere she goes,” Brochan said, sounding depressed now. “Never he’s shown so much attention to any mortal female he’s pursued.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice to a murmur. “Except when he wished hunt and kill you. ’Tis as that, only happier. And grandly lustful.”

The cook’s observations stayed with her as she went to find the laird’s wife, whom a maid said had gone upstairs to be fitted for a new gown.

“This doesn’t look promising,” Caroline said as she joined Valerie and Lark in the seamstress’s work room, where no fitting appeared to be taking place. “Let me guess: to keep the locals happy I have to start wearing floor-length dresses and cover my hair all day. If that’s the case, I think my islet is going nudist twenty-four-seven.”

“You can keep cross-dressing and flaunting,” Valerie said, glancing at Lark, who was winding some thread around a carved wooden bobbin as if her life depended on it. “We need to have a talk about Julianne while Connal and Nyall are distracted by the mist barrier problem.”

In some ways that seemed worse than a new dress code. “Why are you worried about Shaw’s goddess? She’s genuinely nice, and I’m pretty sure she’s keeping your brother-in-law from turning into a walking tsunami of killer black goop. I’ve told that to my husband, too, by the way.”

“Julianne is nice, and I appreciate how she’s keeping Shaw from melting down.” The laird’s wife held up her hand and wriggled her fingertips. “It’s just that I can’t read her mind. I’ve tried to, several times since she arrived on the island, with no success. I was worried we might have another Kai situation, so I asked Lark to try using her boon on her.”

“It was a no-go for me, too.” The seamstress grimaced. “When I tried to lift her chair a little during the morning meal she stayed put. I nearly dumped a pitcher of cider in Valerie’s lap, though.”

“Interesting that you thought you should try. We agreed me using my boon was a very bad idea, given that the time freeze doubles every time I do.” Unsettled by their revelations, Caroline wandered around the chamber. “But I’m guessing if yours don’t work on her, then mine won’t, either.” She belatedly realized why Valerie had mentioned this missing scullery who had turned out to be Cait Sith. “Wait, no, Val. No way Julianne is a shifter.”

“It would explain how she was able to bring Shaw back from the twenty-first century,” Lark said slowly. “Because she didn’t. She somehow tricked him into believing she did.”

“Julianne’s teleportation ability could be a spell of some kind the enchantress cast over her, or a shifter ability we weren’t aware of until now,” Valerie added, nodding. “We all agree that there’s something not quite right about her.”

“Trust me, ladies, you’re wrong,” Caroline said.

“You may want to ignore it, but it’s only too obvious,” the laird’s wife said. “Julianne’s intelligence seems quite limited, and she’s always highly cheerful and willing—the perfect way to ingratiate herself with the clan. She already has a great deal of influence over Shaw. The maids tell me that they just spent the night together, and one heard Julianne begging for mercy.”