SHAFTS OF LIGHT pierced a wide bank of storm clouds to bathe the dark towers of Dun Aran in silver splendor. As Captain of the Guard, Evander Talorc made his rounds of the duty stations three times daily, but also took time in the afternoon to walk with his wife, Rachel, who favored strolling down by the mysterious waters of Loch Sìorraidh.

He simply loved being with her, although his preference would have been privately, in their bed chamber.

“You’ve been quiet,” Evander said. “Have I done something to displease you?”

“Me, no. The men.” She shrugged.

“I am Captain of the Guard,” he reminded her. “No’ Wet Nurse. Who complained?”

Rachel gave him a mildly exasperated look. “No one ever would.”

He grunted. “Who thought about complaining?”

“Sorry, I can’t reveal my sources.” She bent to pick a bit of heather from the grass. “I will tell you that running defense drills five times a day seems to me…a bit excessive.”

“Defending the stronghold, excessive?” He feigned confusion. “I thought it my work.”

She eyed him. “And planning to run them five times tomorrow morning before dawn is just plain mean, Evander.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. I’ve done worse. Talk to Raen, he’ll tell you.”

“Here’s the thing: you have to stop worrying about them,” Rachel said, tucking her arm through his. “The laird has gone off more than once to be alone with Kinley. They’re probably snuggling together in some secret love nest. Also, you’re making the men want to kill you again, and since I like you alive…”

“The men willnae kill me, and the Pritani dinnae have love nests,” he countered, and then saw the look she gave him. “Our cottage in the mountains wasnae that. ’Twas our home while I was a traitorous renegade and you were a poor time-lost lass.” He smiled at her. “But I did fall in love with you there, and we did nest, of sorts.”

His wife laughed, something that still sent a shiver of delight through his chest. For weeks after she had been buried alive to cross over to him she had barely smiled.

“Thanks for the concession,” Rachel said. “Anyway, what I mean is that I don’t think you should brood about it until you have reason to worry.” Her gaze shifted. “Is that Cailean?”

Evander immediately tensed as he saw the young druid approaching them from the far side of the loch. “No. Rachel, go back to the castle now.”

His petite wife didn’t move, and when he looked at her he saw her dark brown eyes appeared unfocused, which meant she was using her ability to read minds.

The druid, whose robe looked dusty and stained from a long journey, stopped some yards away and tugged back his hood. He had the face of a young novice, and eyes filled with the knowledge of a man much older. His copper-red hair curled around his unlined features, and he wore a small, carved sea shell around his slender neck.

“Fair day, Captain Talorc, Lady Rachel.” The shell swung as he bowed politely.

When Evander glanced at his wife, he saw her pale. She also did not respond when he said her name. Immediately he drew the spear he carried in his shoulder sheath.

“Name yourself and your purpose here,” the captain said, “and release my wife from this spell.”

“’Tis no’ magic,” the lad told him, smiling. To Rachel he said, “I am warded against your ability, my lady. You cannae read me, so you mustnae try.” Dimples appeared in his cheeks that matched Rachel’s. “The ward is somewhat mischievous.”

She staggered a little before she shook her head, and the color came back into her face. “He’s right, I can’t read him at all. I got caught in a loop of my own thoughts.” She gave Evander a wan smile. “Sorry. I’ve never encountered a mind like his. It was a little like being trapped in a mirror.”

“Whoever you are, you are no’ welcome here,” Evander told the druid. “Leave now, in peace, or you shall spend the night in our dungeons.”

“I cannae go, I fear.” The druid looked back over his shoulder. “And neither can they.”

Evander blinked a few times, but the hundreds of young druids walking down from the ridges did not disappear. “Dear Gods.”

The young druid smiled. “They are, indeed.”

Most of the newly-arrived appeared to be the same age as the first. Some wore newer robes and well-made boots, while others sported frayed garments and worn sandals. All of the druid children wore carved pendants made of bone, wood, stone or shell.

“He is like us,” one of the young druidesses said, nodding at Evander as she came to hold the hand of the first to arrive. She had hair so fair it appeared silver, and large, beautiful eyes. “So is his lady.” She smiled at Rachel. “Dinnae be afraid. We have all seen the grove of stars. We were sent here to you, Captain.”

Evander studied the faces behind them, and slowly replaced his spear. “Why would you come to me? Who sent you? The gods?”

The little druidess giggled.

“’Twas Fiona Marphee,” the boy druid said. “She showed us how to find you, and said you would help us.”

Rachel took hold of his hand, and only then did Evander realize it was trembling. “But Fiona is dead,” she said gently.

The boy’s face filled with a strange sort of kindness, as if she were the child now. “Aye, my lady.” He regarded Evander. “Will you help us, Captain?”

“She bid you to bury her in the sacred grove,” the druidess said. “She wished to sleep beneath the oaks. She told you thus when you were alone in the mountains, and she lay dying. No one but you heard her words. Do you remember them still, Captain?”

Evander nearly fell to his knees. “Aye.”

“I told you he would,” the druidess said.

“So you did.” The boy smiled down at her. “We have journeyed far, and would be grateful for a meal before we leave again.”

“Where are you going from here?” Rachel asked.

A messenger dove flew over the boy’s head as it headed for the castle’s cote. The young druid’s expression sobered. “Into darkness, my lady.”