KANYTH WOKE FEELING soft fur under his back, and a warm, naked weight curled half-over his body. They’d fallen asleep still joined after their last loving, both exhausted and replete. He knew his lady needed the rest, and while he’d been trained to remain awake for days he’d woken feeling renewed in body and spirit. For that he gave Perrin the due, however, for the pleasure she’d given him and the promise of more.

She’d stay with him, and they’d remain lovers. He’d never allow the famhairean or anything else to take her from him. Only one more gift would make it perfect.

He glanced down at the clan ring he wore. As young lads the Skaraven had carved them from sacred oak as a symbol of their brotherhood. Turned by twelve centuries into stone, the black rings had weathered much. After so many weeks working in the forge his own had developed some small cracks, but still gleamed with the magic of eternal life. Brennus, Cadeyrn and Ruadri had used their rings and brought back their ladies from death, and bestowed on them immortality. He hoped to use his to give Perrin the same, if she would accept it as his mate.

She loves me. Why should she no’?

He gently disentangled himself from her, covering her with her robe before rising and dressing. Once he’d pulled on his boots he went back to the furs to wake her.

“Hey.” She gave him a drowsy smile. “You’re still here.”

“Aye.” He bent to kiss her brow. “I would let you sleep on, but Alec shall soon arrive.” He didn’t want to remind her of the rest, and instead touched her slightly swollen lips. “You’ll wear the gown?”

She rolled over. “What, you don’t want Alec to see me scampering around in that robe?’ She squealed as he gave her buttocks a gentle slap. “I’ll wear the gown.”

Perrin yawned as she got up and dressed. To keep his hands away from her Kanyth checked the last of the window barriers to be installed. He went to unbolt the doors, and a moment later heard a terrible scream from the great hall.

“That sounds like Elspeth,” Perrin said, and they both ran out into the passage.

Kanyth found the laird’s wife standing in the center of the hall, her youngest daughter clasped to her breast and weeping. All around her lay the bodies of guards and sentries, and when she saw them she screamed again.

“Elspeth, it’s us, it’s all right.” Perrin tried to take the wailing child from her, but the lady shook her head.

“They’re dying.” She hurried into the dining hall, where her children stood huddled together, staring at the maids and clansmen that lay unmoving where they had fallen from their chairs. “’Tis Ana’s work, I ken it. She’s dosed them with some evil potion. Clanmaster, please, you must send for the druid.”

Kanyth didn’t tell her that the storm and the pending attack both made that impossible. “I shall try to get word to him, my lady.”

“Did you eat or drink anything yet, Elspeth?” Perrin asked gently.

The laird’s wife stared at her with a blank look. “No, I…I brought down pear juice from the solar for the bairns. I didnae wish to upset my belly again so I drank it with them.” She gazed around the room in horror. “Oh, Gods, she means to kill us all.”

Kanyth checked each of the children, assuring that their eyes remained clear. He saw Perrin do the same with the child in Elspeth’s arms. “Dinnae be afraid,” he told the laird’s brood. “Have you seen your sire this morning?”

The oldest boy pointed under one of the tables.

Kanyth dragged Maddock out, making Elspeth scream again, and turned him onto his belly. Sticking his fingers down the laird’s throat, he forced him to spew. Although it didn’t rouse him awake, what came out of Maddock told him exactly how the clan had been dosed.

“He yet lives, my lady. Perrin.” When she came to him he nodded down at the puddle of morning brew. “I must empty the kettles in the kitchens before more are dosed.” He drew out his dagger and pressed it into her hand. “Stay with the family here.”

She nodded. “Hurry back.”

On the way to the kitchens Kanyth passed more fallen clansmen, among them Alec and Maddock’s tanist. He encountered only one alert boy, whom he found trying to wake a guard, and quickly told him of the poisoning.

“I found the same in the garrison when I came in to break my fast with my older brother,” the stable hand told him. “Duff serves our lord as a sentry. I’m Ross.” His expression grew bleak as he gazed down at the unconscious man. “We’ve ten more hands in the stables. ’Tis all the lads left standing, I reckon.”

“We’ll make do with twelve, then, Ross,” he told him. “Come with me.”

In the kitchens the boy helped Kanyth empty the brew pots, most of which were nearly empty. Nothing looked amiss, but he saw an empty bottle on the cook’s work table, and lifted it to his nose. The acrid scent made him cork it and set it out of reach.

“Fill every clean, large pot you may find with snow from outside,” he told the stable hand. “Add three fists of salt, and set them to melt and warm by the hearth.”

Ross gave him a tight look. “You mean to purge them?”

“Aye. Until we may fetch a healer ’tis all we may do for those sickened. Once you’ve prepared the pots, then fetch your brothers from the stables, and carry the salt water to the great hall. We’ll do the work there.” He saw how the lad’s shoulders drooped, and gripped his arm. “’Tis said the Gods favor the daring, Ross. I ken of no bolder clan than the McAra.”

The boy nodded, determination chasing the fear from his eyes as he went to work.

On his way back to the dining hall Kanyth heard crashing sounds, and the cries of the laird’s children. He scooped up a sword from an unconscious guard and broke into a flat run.

Inside the laird’s wife stood with her bairns cowering behind her as Perrin and a smaller female dressed in white fought wildly. Kanyth saw the flash of a dagger in the attacker’s hand, while all Perrin held was a large serving platter, which she used like a shield. He got behind the female, clamped an arm around her throat and clouted her hand to knock loose the blade.

The female uttered not a sound, but twisted and kicked, using such strength that she nearly broke free. Kanyth grabbed a poker from the hearth as he dragged her over to the laird’s big chair, and shoved her into it. There he pinned her across the middle with the poker, and bent the iron on both ends to the back of the seat. Though she still struggled, it held her in place.

Her hair hung in a snarl over her face. That and her paleness and silence made him wonder if she had been bespelled. Then she stopped fighting the restraint and sat without moving at all.

“Thank you,” Perrin said, sounding out of breath. “I heard footsteps in the back hall. When I went to see who it was, she attacked me with the dagger.”

“Kill them,” the female said in a flat monotone.

“Who sent you to kill?” When she didn’t answer, Kanyth reached for her hair, and pulled it away from her face. He had to snatch his hand back as she tried to bite him, and then recognized who she was. “’Tis the lass from the loch.”

“Wynda?” Perrin said, recoiling. “But how can it be? She’s been dead for days.”

“’Tis the work of Flen’s acolyte,” Kanyth said, feeling disgusted now. “She’s no’ alive. She’s been made a revenant.”

Some of the dishes on the dining table rattled, and a chair fell over as the floor beneath them began to shake. Kanyth brought the women and children out into the great hall, and then went to the window slit to look out into the storm, which had begun to diminish. The shaking continued as deep furrows in the snow came from all directions to surround the keepe.

The famhairean had arrived.