PERRIN HELPED LADY Elspeth’s maids put the laird’s sleepy children to bed, and left them under the watchful eye of their night nanny. After a long day of trying to keep the little ones distracted she should have felt tired. Instead she’d grown so jumpy she could have done a dozen twisting arabesques without stopping. Wynda’s killer had to be someone inside the castle, or who could gain access undetected. Still, the laird had put the clan on high alert, and all the men standing guard looked ready to slice and dice any threat.

“Has Lady Emeline returned?” she asked one of the sentries.

“No’ yet, Mistress.”

The man kept speaking, but his voice faded as his head became engulfed in white mist. His face shifted into an older man’s and Perrin gasped when she recognized Hendry’s gloating features. All around him the famhairean attacked the castle, and it looked like they were winning. But there, coming from the woods behind him, was Brennus and the clan on horseback. The battle was terrible but Perrin couldn’t look way. Just as Hendry raised his arms above his head, a thick white fog settled across the battlefield. The mad druid’s face receded into the mist but, as it did, it shifted into the smaller, feminine features of the maid who’d smirked at her after delivering firewood.

Perrin froze as the passage around her widened and squared itself into a dark room, where the chambermaid moved toward a bed. At first she thought she was witnessing Wynda’s murder, but the chamber seemed larger. The maid drew back the blanket, revealing an empty bed. Perrin glanced around and saw a druid’s robe hanging to dry by the fireplace.

What is she doing in Bhaltair Flen’s room?

The maid removed the pillow from the bed, replacing it with what looked like a large, gray, sparkling turban. She carefully covered it up, and then backed away as she raised her hands. A glow the color of a dark bruise radiated from her fingertips.

“I release you to do your worst,” the maid said in the low, rasping voice of a much older woman. “That I may do mine. Give him agony.”

Perrin stiffened as the maid turned and walked straight through her. Behind her Bhaltair lay on the floor.

An instant later Perrin stood back in the hall to the solar, the sudden change back to reality making her head spin a little.

“Be you well, Mistress?” the sentry asked, looking concerned.

“Yes, sorry.” She felt a terrible dread spreading thick and dense in her chest, and her marked hand suddenly grew warmer. “Would you tell me how to find Bhaltair Flen’s chamber, please?”

Perrin hurried from the solar as fast as she could without alarming the clansmen and servants that she passed. The closer she drew to the druid’s chamber, the deeper the heat in her palm spread. Taking the last set of stairs two at a time, she rushed into the hall of guest rooms and stopped short as she saw a pool of blood, and a trail of the same leading to a big, still body that lay face-down.

“Ka.”

She dropped down to roll him onto his back. Blood soaked the front of his tunic and trews. For a terrible moment she thought he might be dead, until she saw he was still bleeding from where the hilt of a dagger protruded from the side of his neck. She called his name several times, but he didn’t respond or open his eyes.

Would this kill him? He’d lost so much blood that it didn’t seem possible that even an immortal could survive it.

“Emeline hasn’t come back yet,” Perrin said as she ripped off the sleeve of her gown and used it to try to staunch the flow. But her hands shook so badly, she couldn’t apply enough pressure around the blade. “Don’t do this to me, Ka.” She searched frantically up and down the hall, but she couldn’t see anyone through the tears that had sprung into her eyes. “Help! Someone, help!”

By the time she looked down, more blood had pooled on the floor. She had to stop that bleeding. Without thinking, she yanked out the blade and pressed her hands down hard on the wound.

“Ka, don’t leave me,” she pleaded as the tears streamed down her face.

All she knew was CPR. Would that help? She tried to blink the tears away. Gods, if only Emmie or Ru were here.

An iridescent shimmer of aqua light seeped out from between her damp fingers. But they weren’t just wet with blood. The blue glow was spreading through the water of her tears.

“Water,” she gasped. “Of course.”

Carefully she lifted her fingers from the side of his neck. The terrible gash had been sealed.

Kanyth’s eyelids flickered and opened, and he peered up at her.

“Oh, God, Ka, please don’t die on me.”

“I’ll try…no’ to.”

His voice sounded like a strangled whisper. The stab wound must have caused some kind of internal damage.

“Who did this to you? No, don’t do that,” she said as he pushed himself upright. “You’ve lost so much blood I don’t think you have any left. I’ll go get some help.”

Kanyth shook his head and slapped a hand against the wall as he slowly stood. “I need more water. Much more.”

The loch was too far away, and then she remembered something. “I asked the maids to fill a tub for me tonight, so I could take a bath. Would that be enough?”

He nodded. “Keep out of sight.”

Perrin saw how his legs were shaking, and tugged his arm over her shoulders. His bigger body made supporting his weight impossible, but he managed to stagger alongside her. It seemed to take forever to navigate the back corridors to their room, but finally they arrived.

Inside Perrin helped him over to the wooden tub the chambermaids had filled with hot water for her bath, and steadied him as he climbed in and sank down. She grabbed the big chair and dragged it over to wedge it against the door before hurrying back.

Bubbling light churned the now-bloody water as Kanyth transformed and then rose from the tub to stand in his water-traveling form. Although she had watched him make the change before, now she saw how beautiful he was, as if some magician had captured a wave and sunlight, and shaped them together to become a man.

A man who looked ready to kill something, Perrin thought as Kanyth shifted back into his human form. “Are you okay now?”

“Aye.” He climbed out, moving as if he’d never been hurt. He took her hand, and raised it to his lips. “I owe you my life.”

“Really? Because I didn’t know, I mean, if you were dying. You’re not supposed to do that.” All the frantic energy inside her evaporated, leaving her feeling as if she’d come from a full-show rehearsal. “Oh, I need to sit down for a minute.” The floor was closest, and she leaned against the side of the tub and closed her eyes. “Who stabbed you?”

“One of the maids.” He crouched down beside her and waited until she looked at him. “I caught her coming out of Flen’s chamber. I dinnae ken her name, but ’tis likely false. She’s no’ a maid.”

“Was she dark-haired, doe-eyed and smirky like this?” Perrin imitated the girl’s scornful smile. When he nodded she said, “I had a vision of her putting something in the druid’s bed and then using magic. She must have attacked you just after that.” She took in a shaky breath. “She’s a chambermaid, like Wynda. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“’Tis that I wish to kiss you now until you can say naught but more and please,” Kanyth said as he pulled her up into his arms, and held her close. “For the rest of the night and tomorrow and the week. Yet we must alert Maddock, and warn Flen.” He tucked her head under his chin, his hand stroking her hair. “As for the kissing, we agreed–”

“I remember.” Perrin buried her face for a moment against his damp, warm chest. She just wanted to hold onto him and breathe him in and listen to his heartbeat.

“You’re alive, and that’s what matters. I’m sorry about the rest. But definitely don’t kiss me.”

He released her with obvious reluctance. “Until we catch this murderous wench, my lady, you’re no’ to leave my side.”

“I won’t.”

Perrin didn’t think she could have, even if she wanted to.

* * *

Unwilling to again disturb the laird’s wife or alarm further the household, Kanyth sent two guards to discreetly summon Maddock and Bhaltair to the great hall. The druid had to be fetched from one of the barns, where he had been tending to the injured in Emeline’s absence. As they waited, Kanyth quietly told her about the message from Dun Mor, and Brennus’s scheme to ambush the famhairean.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Perrin said and absently rubbed her bare arm until he drew her over by the fire. “You ruined my dress, you know. Or Emeline’s, or Lady Elspeth’s.” She gave him a wan look. “I can’t remember whose clothes I’m wearing.”

“The druid said my tartan came from a lowlands clan,” he told her, rolling his eyes to make her smile. “But I’m told they’re good fighters, and favored by their king.”

“I bet they’re proud to know a Skaraven wears it.” A sharp pop from a burning log drew her gaze. “Kanyth, that girl who attacked you, she came in right after you that night with all the kissing lessons. Was she outside in the hall when you left?”

“Aye.” He saw her brows draw together. “What of it?”

“When she came in, she had this look on her face, as if she knew that we’d been kissing.” Perrin shuddered. “I think she might have been standing outside the door listening, the whole time—and it was your chamber.”

The laird came with an escort of guards, but had sobered enough to immediately notice the state of their garments. “By the facking Gods, who now attacks you?”

“We’re no’ injured, my lord,” Kanyth said quickly. “An imposter posing as a maid stabbed me and left me for dead, but my lady came upon me and brought me to water.”

“A wench did this to a Skaraven?” Maddock gestured at his blood-soaked trews. “Do they fashion female famhairean now to blight us?”

“’Twas more likely a druidess,” Bhaltair said as his walking stick thumped along with his hitching step. “Murdina, mayhap, wearing an illusion of youth.”

“I think she’s a little too unstable to pose as a servant,” Perrin said. “And Hendry would never let her come here by herself.”

Kanyth regarded the old druid. “Ken you then a druidess of dark hair, and eyes like a fawn? She’s young, strong, and much skilled with a dagger.”

Bhaltair paled. “You describe my former acolyte, Oriana Embry.”

“I had a vision of the girl in your room, Master Flen,” Perrin told him, and related what she had foreseen. “She stabbed Kanyth when he surprised her on the way out. I think she may have been spying on us, too.”

The laird turned to his men. “Summon more men from the garrison, and find this evil wench. Search every level, every room, every trunk if need be. See it done quietly, but leave naught unchecked.” He glanced at the old druid. “You’d do well to take the clanmaster with you to see what wickedness she planned for you.”

Perrin went with Kanyth to escort Bhaltair to his chamber. Seeing the blood still puddled and streaking the floor gave them all pause, but Kanyth most of all. He knew awakening to immortality made him difficult to kill, but Perrin’s question came back to haunt him. Would he have survived such a wound if she had not found him?

“I ken an immortal highlander who once took a spear to the throat, lad,” Bhaltair told him. “He survived it, but only after being taken through a portal for healing. You’re indeed fortunate to yet breathe. Now, you and the lass should wait outside while I ferret out what spell Oriana cast.”

Kanyth drew his dagger. “I dinnae much like this hall. It wants cleaning.”

“You’re not leaving me all alone out here,” Perrin added.

The old druid sighed before he insisted on going in first, and muttered a spell that caused the candles to sputter to life.

“All seems as ’twas when I left,” he said as he inspected the chamber, and then tilted his head as if listening to something. “You said in your vision that Oriana placed something in my bed?”

“Yes, I watched her do it. It looked like a gray turban, a kind of a hat made out of cloth in my time. It’s wound around the head like a big bandage.” Perrin pointed at the mound under the blanket. “Right there.”

Bhaltair nodded, and picked up a wooden bucket half-filled with water. “How I wish Lady Althea were visiting.” He took hold of the blanket, and drew it back.

Kanyth saw what Perrin had thought a hat, which proved instead to be a giant wasp nest. As soon as it was exposed the occupants began crawling out and buzzing angrily. An enchantment shimmered over them, and they began to grow larger.

“I’ve a single weakness to bear in every incarnation, one I take pains to keep secret,” Bhaltair said, and brought the bucket down quickly to cover the nest. Water splashed the front of his robe and spread out over the bed as he held the bucket in place. “Insects such as these. If I’m stung by even a handful, my throat closes and I cannae breathe. In truth ’twas what ended my fourth life in boyhood.”

“Why would you tell Oriana about that?” Perrin asked.

“’Tis another puzzle, lass,” the old man said. “For I didnae.”

As the bucket began to jolt under his gnarled hands he closed his eyes and began to mutter under his breath. Kanyth watched the power surge from the druid’s fingers into the bucket, which sprouted small twigs and leaves as it reshaped itself. The wooden staves creaked as it bent and rounded itself into a perfect sphere.

Bhaltair released it, and watched as it rolled around the blanket on its own. “I’d set them free, poor creatures, but I dinnae ken how large they’ve been enchanted to grow. We cannae permit giant wasps to roam the countryside unhindered.” He picked up the wooden ball and carried it over to the hearth, where he placed it in the flames.

“So, I was right about the mutant bugs,” Perrin muttered, and then caught Kanyth’s curious look. “Nothing. Just don’t tell the kitchen staff about this.”

Kanyth nodded. “I think I prefer the blade in the neck to giant wasp stings.”

“I thought your acolyte was in training to be a druidess,” Perrin said to the old man.

“She’s been well-trained, I fear, by no’ by me. Barra Omey, the bone conjurer who holds Oriana in her sway, possessed the power to cast such spells.” He paused to look at Perrin. “Your far-sight saved me, lass, and you’ve my thanks.” Though he gave her arm a gentle touch, his brow wrinkled into deep furrows. “’Tis there else that you’ve seen?”