Page 15

The rock that had, supposedly, brought Bryanna through time.

But the older man lying on the ground with a trickle of blood flowing down his forehead looked suspiciously real. The air smelled like dust and wet earth and…did she get a whiff of lavender and grass?

She noticed the younger man who’d talked to her was on the ground as well, sitting up and taking his head into his hands. The third man rose to his hands and knees and crawled towards the old man with the wound on his head.

Raghnall rushed to him, too, while Bryanna stood and gaped at all this like a fool. Her head swam, and normally she’d sit down and do her blood strip test, but there was nothing to sit on.

And nothing normal about what was going on around her.

“I’m all right,” said the wounded man, sitting up with the help of Raghnall.

“What happened here, Amhladh?” Raghnall asked, looking around. Two of the torches cast light that jumped around the walls.

“I dinna ken,” said the old man. “We were working, and then all of a sudden, there was a loud crash and the rocks crumbled. Our scaffolds broke from the weight of the stones. We could have been buried underneath all that rubble.”

With a coldness spreading through her middle, Bryanna mumbled, “Almost like someone wanted it to crumble and bury that rock underneath.”

“What?” Raghnall looked up at her. “What rock?”

“The faerie rock,” said Amhladh, looking somberly at the pile of rubble. “I heard stories as a lad.”

“Oh, aye?” said Raghnall, his expression suddenly curious.

“Nothing particular. A faerie helped a druid carve those symbols on the rock. They say whoever puts his or her hand in the handprint would go to another time.”

Silence fell in the underground room as all four men looked at her.

Involuntarily, she took a step back. With shaking hands, she clutched her purse. When she opened it, relief washed through her. Three insulin pens lay on the bottom, just like she remembered.

If she wasn’t dreaming, which seemed more and more true with every second, and if she had indeed traveled in time, she needed to get to that rock and go back to her time where there was insulin.

Without it, she’d die. It was as simple as that.

“Did you smell lavender?” she asked. “Before the crash.”

The younger man scratched his head. “Come to think of it, aye, I did. I thought mayhap my wife put a branch or two in my tool basket and I hadna noticed. But aye, lavender, and then grass.”

Just like what she had smelled when Sìneag had appeared.

“Lady Bryanna…” growled Raghnall. “Ye’re confusing me. Why is lavender even important?”

Wake up, she commanded herself. Wake up! If this was a dream, she had to wake up. Because if she really had traveled back in time, the huge pile of rubble hadn’t just buried her only way back.

It had pretty much buried her, too.

“I need this to be cleared,” she whispered, not recognizing her own voice.

Raghnall rose, the concern and annoyance on his face replaced by pure worry. “Lass, ye’re shaking.” He walked to her and grasped her upper arms, steadying her. His firm, warm touch calmed her. His black eyes were searching hers. “Ye’re so pale… Ye need to see my sister, she’s a healer.”

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, get this rubble cleared. I’ll help. I’ll remove those rocks myself if I have to…”

“Lass,” said the old man, standing up. “We have to repair the wall, anyway. There are a few cracks and we must secure the castle before the attack. ’Tis why we’ve been working here.”

A knot hardened in her stomach. “What attack?”

Raghnall sighed. “We’re at war with clan Ross. We ken they’re coming—they’ve been trying this whole summer. My brother was supposed to marry Euphemia of Ross, but he fell in love with Rogene and chose her. We also owe them tribute that we’ve yet been unable to pay. Euphemia…she wants her revenge. That’s why she sent a murderer to kill Laomann and the whole clan. She failed, thanks to James. But we know she won’t stop. So we’re bracing ourselves.”

A war between clans… Now she was in the middle of a clan feud?