Page 58

“Ye ken what I want.”

“Kintail?”

She straightened her back, but there it was, that barely noticeable wince of pain, and scowled at Raghnall. If Bryanna had ever seen a look that could kill, this was it.

Raghnall kept staring at Euphemia, too, but not a word came out of her mouth.

“What if I told ye,” Raghnall said, “I can deliver what ye want. If ye go and speak with Angus.”

She cocked her eyebrow. “I ken ye, Raghnall Mackenzie. Word around is ye’re nae to be trusted. Nae by yer clan. Nae by anyone. So why should I trust a single word that comes out of yer mouth?”

Raghnall was losing now. Bryanna knew it, and he knew it, and so did all the guards standing around them. For the first time, Bryanna saw Raghnall at a loss, not knowing what to say or do. Whatever he had come up with, it wasn’t working.

She had to help. She had to act.

No, she told herself. What she needed to do was be careful. She was in real danger here, and not just from the swords and axes and the fists of real killers who would snap her neck in a second, but from her body. She was on her last reserves, and she knew it. She felt it. That headache, her vision blurred and her muscles as weak as spaghetti, and that tingling that spread throughout her body.

Goddamn diabetes. This wasn’t fair. How was it fair that she was so sick she lived a half-life? How was it fair that she couldn’t help the one man who made her feel alive?

And that was why she had to risk it. She had to do something. Her whole life, she hadn’t done anything. She was a teacher instead of a musician. She avoided relationships. She lived with her parents.

She never said a word about her psychic abilities.

Had she been braver, she might have saved her dad’s life.

But she could be brave now.

All Raghnall needed was a little help. A little distraction.

“I see death in you,” she said, looking straight at Euphemia.

Euphemia’s eyes darted to Bryanna, sharp like the fangs of a snake. “What?”

Bryanna felt Raghnall’s worried gaze on her, his eyebrows drawn together in a deep frown. Those thick, black, masculine eyebrows that made him look like Aidan Turner.

“Bryanna!” Raghnall said in warning.

“I see death,” said Bryanna, using her eeriest voice and making her eyes go unfocused, looking somewhere beyond. “A black, black curtain of death before you. The curtain that will consume you.”

Euphemia blinked. “What are ye talking about? ’Tis nonsense.”

If Bryanna was going to burn, she’d burn brightly. “I am a witch, I see things. I saw my father’s death—” Her voice broke. “I’ve seen my own death, ’tis nae far away.” She met Euphemia’s steely blue eyes. “And I see yours.”

Euphemia was pale now, so pale, her skin appeared grayish. “Wh-what do ye see?” she asked, blinking rapidly.

“Tell the guards to let me go and come to me, and I’ll tell you. Or do you want your enemy to find out?”

Euphemia’s eyes darted to Raghnall for just a moment, then she jumped off the horse, wincing. She wore thin chain mail, but no doubt it was solid and well made. Euphemia retrieved a dagger and walked towards Bryanna, holding it casually, but the edge of the blade pointed upwards in a warning.

When she was two steps away, she stopped and showed her the blade. “One wrong move and I wilna hesitate to use this. Aye?”

The blade was so sharp it glistened in the dull light of the day. Bryanna nodded. “Clear. Tell them to let me go and come closer.”

Bryanna didn’t have a plan, not really. She didn’t know if she could grab the dagger from Euphemia, but she could try. And then what? Would she really be able to kill another human being? She couldn’t afford even a glance at Raghnall, not while Euphemia’s eyes held her in their gaze with the intensity of tractor beams.

Euphemia made a small gesture with her head, and the guards stepped aside.

You wanted adventure? her own voice asked her in her head. Here it is. More adventure than you can stomach.