ONCE PERRIN HAD slipped on her dry boots she bundled her dripping clothes and stuffed them into Althea’s travel keg. Her hands shook as she wrung out her wet hair and covered it with a woolen scarf, but not from fear. Flashing across Scotland in a few seconds had been as exhilarating as a show’s opening night, thanks to Emeline and her new immortal ability to water-travel. Once they’d entered the river Perrin had hardly registered the water’s freezing temperature as glowing bubbles surrounded them and their horses. Then she had rushed through a stream of blurred currents at what seemed the speed of light. A blink later the nurse had led her out of the loch near the McAra’s castle.

Soaking wet and shivering with delight, Perrin had laughed out loud. “That was amazing. Can we do it again?”

The nurse grinned. “Oh, aye, when we go back.”

They had changed into dry clothes in two of the shelters built by the McAra for the Skaraven Clan’s use when they visited. As soon as Perrin stepped outside, the bright sunlight and the frigid air combined to take her breath away, but even that felt amazing. She grinned at Emeline, who emerged from her shelter wrapped in Ruadri’s amber and black tartan.

“If I’d known an icy dunking would make you so happy, I’d have tossed you in the river a week ago,” the Scottish woman teased.

Perrin’s smile slipped. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a real killjoy lately.”

“You’ve been badly clouted, and not just on the head.” She fastened their kegs to the sides of their saddles before giving Perrin a boost up. “Your spirit needs to mend, too.”

“Thanks, Emmie.”

That the nurse understood made her feel better. She just wished Kanyth could sense her emotions, because she’d never find the nerve to talk to him. He made her feel the same way she did when she stood waiting in the wings for her cue. Just before a performance she could hardly breathe. If not for the one cure for her perpetual stage fright, she’d never have danced a single step in front of any audience.

“Did you want to rest a bit more?” Emeline asked, startling her.

“No, I was just thinking that I haven’t heard any music since we came here.” Perrin lifted her shoulders. “I used to listen to it all day—in classes, at rehearsal, and of course for the shows. I didn’t even drive anywhere without the radio on.”

“I miss it, too. Even that wancheery elevator music they played on my ward at Fleming’s often helped me through a long shift.” She pursed her lips. “I don’t think the Skaraven have had much exposure to music. None of them sing or play instruments. Ru chants, but I’d hardly call it song.” She chuckled. “I wonder what they’d make of your dancing.”

Perrin thought of Kanyth watching her perform, and felt an inexplicable heat spread through her belly. “That’s not likely to happen.”

A long, wispy shadow passed over them, but when Perrin looked up expecting clouds she saw white smoke. She turned her head to spot a small group of dirty, disheveled people hurrying out of the woods toward the glen beyond the loch. Every man held a torch and a club, while most of the women carried bundles or small children. Some had visible bloodstains on their crude garments, and they all looked terrified.

“Are they part of the clan?” Perrin asked as Emeline saw them.

She shook her head. “They’d be wearing the McAra plaid.” Swinging up on her saddle as if she’d been born on horseback, the nurse pointed in another direction. “The castle is a straight ride that way, lass. Tell the guards I’ve stayed to see what’s amiss with these folk.”

The happy thought of escaping didn’t outweigh Perrin’s concern for her friend. No way was she leaving Emeline by herself with frantic, torch-carrying strangers.

“I’m coming, too,” Perrin said and saw one of the women abruptly turn around and try to run back into the forest. When a man dragged her back, she fell to her knees and wept into her hands. “Emmie, I think they’re in real trouble.”

“Stay on your horse,” the nurse said, and then rode with her toward the couple.

The man holding the woman back turned toward them, his soot-stained face tight with anger and fear. As soon as he saw Emeline’s face he called to the others, who reluctantly straggled back to join them.

“What do you here, man?” Emeline said in a much heavier Scottish accent.

“Naught evil, I swear it, milady,” the man gasped. “I’m Beathan Tadhg, and she my wife Rona, and they our neighbors.” He turned the woman so that she sobbed into his chest. “We’ve run from Colbokie clachan. ’Twas attacked yesterday. Be ye Clan McAra?”

“Aye.” Emeline’s gaze dropped to the sobbing woman. “What makes your lady weep so? Has she been injured?”

“We’d beg shelter from yer laird, milady,” another man said before Beathan could answer. “They set the clachan to burn after they murdered our kin.” He stared at the forest. “Could be tracking we even now.”

Emeline dismounted and went to the woman, quickly checking her over before she took hold of her hands. “’Twill be well, Mistress.”

Perrin felt the warm wave of the nurse’s empathic ability spread out through the group, and all of the frightened people calmed. Rona Tadgh, however, seemed immune, and clutched at her husband’s ragged tunic as she begged him to go back. He put his arms around her, but kept looking at the other men.

“We cannae leave the bairns behind, Beathan,” she shrieked, struggling again to free herself. “They dinnae ken the way out the woods, and the cold’ll surely kill them.”

Perrin eyed the trees. “How many are still in there?”

“Two little ones with my oldest lad,” Beathan said. “We saw riders near the boundaries and Rona sent them to hide in the wood. When we came after we couldnae find them.”

“We shouldnae left them so long alone,” his wife wailed.

“Be ye mad, wench?” another man said, his plump face crusty with freezing sweat. “We be half-dead of cold, and them that would kill we be coming.”

Emeline’s mouth flattened. “You saw someone following you from your clachan?”

“Didnae wait to see, milady.” His expression turned sullen, and he made an impatient gesture. “We called to the bairns, over and again. No’ a peep in return.”

“The kids must have been too terrified to come out,” Perrin muttered, and then realized how that could help. With her friend’s gift she could sense the children’s emotions. They could use their fear like GPS. “Emmie, you and I can find them.”

“Aye. We’ll search the woods, Mistress,” Emeline told the woman, but shook her head when the men offered her their torches. “Master Tadgh, hurry your people to the stronghold and bid the sentries send riders to help us. Come, Perrin.”

The darkness of the woods should have been an ominous reminder of the ordeal they’d gone through to escape the mad druids, but all Perrin could think of was the three lost children. She knew only too well what it felt like to be too scared to move.

They located the narrow trail the villagers had used, and reined in their horses to a slow walk as they backtracked the slurry of boot prints in the snow. With the dense growth of trees, the sunlight barely penetrated the canopy, allowing the drifts to swaddle everything in a thick blanket of glittering white. Perrin could feel the temperature dropping, and even the horses’ breaths huffed out in clouds.

“No furrows,” Emeline said, studying the ground. “The famhairean didn’t chase after them. Odd. Ruadri said they never allow any mortals to escape them.”

“Maybe these people just got very lucky.” Perrin felt the back of her head throb just above her nape, and winced as she rubbed the spot. “Ouch.”

Emeline took hold of her horse’s bridle. “Look at me, lass.” When she did she blew out a breath. “Your eyes are still clear.”

“I wasn’t having a vision. Just a headache twinge.” She felt odd, however, as if something she’d seen didn’t seem as it should be. Slowly she checked the trees around them, and saw a pile of snow that appeared much rougher and dirtier than those around it. “Emmie, do you feel anything?”

“Only the cold.” She frowned as Perrin dismounted. “Lass, they’re not here.”

“It’s just…this.” She walked over to the stained, pitted drift and reached down to push her hand into it. Beneath the rough, icy chunks she felt a crude weave of branches and the texture of stiff, woven cloth. “Here. They’re here.”

Emeline jumped down and hurried over to help her dig into the drift. A few inches below the mix of snow and earth they pulled away a layer of pine boughs. Beneath it lay a rough blanket wrapped over two small, unmoving forms.

“Please, God, no,” Perrin muttered as she swatted away the snow and pulled the wool aside. A small boy lay huddled with a tiny girl, and for a terrible moment she thought both were dead. Then the toddler whimpered, and the boy blinked and looked up at her.

“Be ye a fairy?” he croaked.

“Aye, and a canny one at that, my lad,” Emeline said, tearing off her tartan. “Perr, can you tuck the wee lass inside your cloak? I’ll bundle up this one and set him in front–”

“Ye’ll no’ take them,” a young, shaking voice called out, and a skinny figure appeared behind the children. In both hands he held large rocks ready to hurl. “Get ye away, or I’ll break yer heads.”

“Beathan Tadgh sent us to look for you, lad,” Emeline said, her voice as soothing as the comforting emotion she radiated. “You hid the little ones so well your Da couldnae find you when he came. They’re waiting at the McAra’s stronghold for you now.”

Perrin saw the boy’s chin wobble, but he still clutched the stones tightly. He wanted to believe her, but they were still strangers. It was exactly what Rowan would have done, she thought, and then she knew what to say.

“We’re ladies, so we need protection, too. Will you guard us all until we reach the castle?”

The boy’s dark eyes studied her face, and he slowly nodded.

Once Emeline boosted Perrin back on her horse she carefully lifted the little girl into her hands. Quickly Perrin pressed her against her chest, covering her completely with her cloak while shifting back to make room for the smaller boy. The nurse swaddled him in her tartan before handing him up, and Perrin wrapped one arm around him as he clung to her.

“Come, lad,” Emeline said, leading her mount closer to the older boy. “You and I must ride out ahead to watch for trouble.”

Once she had the boy in the saddle Emeline grabbed a branch and swung up behind him, taking hold of the reins. With a glance back at Perrin she started back the way they came.

Keeping her seat while holding two children might have been difficult, but Perrin’s well-trained mount responded to the additional burden by slowly ambling along the trail. By the time they neared the edge of the forest the approaching sound of more riders rumbled through the air. The little girl rested quietly, but the younger boy began to shake and clutch at her.

“It’s all right,” she told them. “They’re men from the castle. Your father sent them to help us.”

Emeline called and waved to the dozen clansmen as she and the older boy emerged from the woods. “We’re here. We’ve found the bairns.”

Perrin joined her, and when they were surrounded by the McAra she smiled down at both children. “We’re safe now, thanks to your parents and your brother.”

The younger boy peeped over the edge of Emeline’s tartan before disappearing like a turtle withdrawing into its shell. As Perrin glanced at all the grim faces around her she silently wished she could do the same.

“Well done, Healer,” a burly, hard-looking McAra said as he rode up and inspected them. “The laird said you’d likely ferret them out before we arrived. What of the cause of their flight?”

“No sign in the woods, Tanist,” Emeline told him. “I dinnae believe they were followed.”

He moved his mount alongside Perrin’s, making her stiffen, but he only gave her a nod before he gazed down at the huddled boy. “You and your brother have done well to look after the females, lad. I shall speak of it to our lord.”

With a little more coaxing the burly man convinced the younger boy to ride with him. At a brisk pace the clansmen escorted them across the wide glen and around another swath of pine and oak to the McAra stronghold. Perrin had seen the ruins of medieval castles before, but to approach the soaring stone walls and take in the enormity of the keepe made her feel a little like a twenty-first century ant.

“How many rooms does it have?” she said to Emeline, who chuckled.

“I’ve never counted, but I’ve gotten myself lost five times walking from my chamber to the great hall.” The nurse grinned as her gaze shifted to Rona and Beathan, who came running out of the stronghold. “Here’s your family, lad.”

Unwrapping her cloak to reveal the little girl cradled in her arm, Perrin carefully handed her down to Beathan. He kissed the child’s brow before putting her in her sobbing mother’s arms, and then knelt in front of Perrin.

“I never thought to see my bairns alive again,” Beathan said, and prostrated himself until his head almost touched the frozen ground. “Anything we’ve left to give ye, milady, ’tis yers.”

Perrin felt suddenly, terribly sad for him. “Enough’s been taken from you, Master Tadgh.”

“Well said.”

A man who looked exactly like a male miniature of Emeline joined them.

Although Perrin had heard plenty about the infamous little laird, the reality proved even more fascinating. Maddock McAra wore his clan’s tartan artfully folded over one shoulder and adorned with a white bone pin carved in the form of a stag. Beneath the plaid he sported a dark green velvet jacket so heavily embroidered with gold thread it hardly moved. His leather trousers and boots had been dyed to match the emerald velvet, and a hip-sheath made of gold filigree held a jewel-encrusted longsword.

He returned her measuring gaze before offering her his hand. “Come down from your lofty height, bright goddess, that you may properly greet me.”

Although meeting people usually proved to be torturous for Perrin, for some reason the laird didn’t intimidate her. Although his short stature and fancy outfit did make him resemble a highlander doll, he had an interesting air of dignity that added some oomph to his costume. His strong resemblance to Emeline, Perrin decided, was likely what made her feel less bashful. She took his hand and dismounted. Then, remembering her medieval manners, she bobbed into a low, graceful curtsey.

“I’m Perrin Thomas, my lord. It’s a great honor to meet you.”

“’Tis always. I’m the laird.” Maddock lifted her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “You’re a rare beauty indeed.” The kindness in his blue eyes took on a speculative gleam. “Mayhap you share some kinship with our much beloved Emeline?”

“She already has a sister, my lord, but neither have a single drop of McAra blood,” the nurse said as she joined them, and rolled her eyes at Perrin. “Nor does Perrin seek a husband.”

The clansmen around them cleared their throats, and a few covered chuckles with feigned coughs. The McAra glared at his men before uttering a theatrical sigh.

“Just once, Cousin, you might bring some female to properly tempt McFarlan’s son. I’d adopt her at once, and she needn’t be fetching. The lad’s as short-sighted as a mole.” He stroked his angular jaw as he studied Perrin. “The sister, she’s unwed?”

“That would be Rowan, my lord.” Emeline winked at Perrin.

“Och, the dark lass. Brennus spoke of her, ah, charms.” Maddock shuddered. “Come inside, Mistress Perrin. We must content ourselves with your attentions to my lady, and she’s in sore need of diversion.”

The laird escorted her inside. Two rows of armed guards came to attention with swords drawn in front of their faces. Perrin noticed that most shared the same glossy black hair, light blue eyes, and pale skin as Maddock and Emeline. Her friend had once joked that the clan’s genes were as stubborn and overbearing as the laird. Still, it must have felt amazing to become part of such a huge family.

No one ever guesses that Rowan and I are sisters, Perrin thought, feeling a little depressed. Their adoptive mother, Marion, had always insisted that they had no living relatives. Was that why she made Rowan promise to look after me? Because she knew after she was gone no one else would care? But Rowan couldn’t be bothered with her anymore. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking about Kanyth. Because deep down I’m afraid of being alone.

Inside the great hall the fires from a dozen hearths lining the walls generated welcome heat. Beautiful hand-worked tapestries hung between them, depicting magnificent horses so well executed they looked as if they might jump off the walls and trot around the stronghold.

“Thank the gods you’re safe, Emeline.” A slender, fair-haired woman dressed in a voluminous rose-colored gown hurried out of one of the arches. She took hold of the nurse’s hands and kissed her cheek before regarding Perrin. “You’ve brought company. Forgive my wretched manners, ah…”

“Mistress Thomas,” Emeline told her. “She’s one of the ladies from my time.”

“Please, call me Perrin.” She curtseyed, but when she looked up into the other woman’s eyes she saw the same gentle kindness she often saw in Emeline’s face. Perrin returned the lady’s smile and felt the last of her anxiety vanish. “It’s lovely to meet you, Lady McAra.”