HEARING TARAN SAY he wanted to love her forever jerked Rowan awake. She tried to go back, unwilling to relinquish the feel of having him inside her at last. That joining had obliterated the nagging emptiness she’d endured all her life. But the weight of the wool blanket and her garments dragged at her, making it impossible to fall asleep again.

A familiar frustration knotted in her chest.

Can’t I even have him in my damn dreams?

She opened her eyes and froze as she looked at his sleeping face, not an inch away from her own. During the night she’d curled up against him and tucked her head on his shoulder. She never wanted to move again, but if Hendry saw them like this he’d kill the horse master for sure—or do worse and not kill him.

The moment she moved Taran woke, and he looked at her as if she were his entire universe again. That lasted for as long as it took for him to move his arms and realize he was still chained to the bed.

“You have a nice skull, but I didn’t like you bald,” Rowan said as she pushed herself away from him. She caught the way he stared at her as she stood and released his shackles from the chains. “You had the same dream, didn’t you? Answer me.”

As if he couldn’t stand the sight of her Taran averted his face. “Aye.”

Rowan went to look through the cracks and saw that Aon had gone. After checking the back and spotting no more guards outside she hurried back to him.

“Listen to me. It’s not what you’re thinking. I’m trying to–”

The sound of the bolt being raised on the door made her shut her mouth and turn. The teenage version of Murdina came in and surveyed them both.

“A Skaraven as your servant. You never fail to shock me, Sister.”

“Gee, thanks for the lukewarm welcome.” Just hearing the mad woman’s voice made Rowan’s back burn from the memory of the whipping. “We have work to do for Hendry, so you and I will have to catch up later. Stop by again in six or seven hundred years.”

Murdina shook a finger from side to side. “’Twas Hendry sent me to fetch you. Chain up that animal, and we’ll go for a stroll.” When Rowan didn’t move her smile faded. “Or I may summon Dha to smash your pet into the dirt and drag you out by your hair.”

“You’re just as charming and considerate as ever.” Rowan led Taran to the stake, and transferred the chains from the bed to lock him to it. “Don’t try to escape.”

His gaze shifted to Murdina for a moment, and then he gave Rowan a hard look.

That Taran didn’t want her to leave with the nutcase was plain. Still, to keep up appearances she’d have to act as if the druidess was her new best pal.

“Rest while you can,” she told him. “I shouldn’t be long.” She hoped. No, she prayed.

Following Murdina out of the barn, Rowan felt the still, stale cold pressing all around her like the flesh of a corpse. She saw Hendry and most of the giants working on something at the edge of the settlement. The druidess skipped in the opposite direction, however, so she had to trudge after her through the woods.

When they reached the clearing where Hendry kept the totems, Murdina snaked her arm through Rowan’s and giggled at her flinch.

“You ken I shallnae harm you,” the druidess scolded. “I’m to teach you the spell you must use to finish the tribe’s solstice ritual.”

“Isn’t it a little early for this?” She didn’t resist as Murdina tugged her to the center of the clearing. “We haven’t finished assembling all the totems yet, and that was the first thing on your boyfriend’s to-do list.”

“You’ll no’ cast the spell until we rebuild the altar here.” The druidess gestured at a small group of shallow depressions in the ground. “Even so ’twill no’ work unless you spill blood first. Or last.” She thought for a moment. “Last. Blood seals the spell.”

Rowan’s stomach clenched. “I have to cut myself?”

Murdina giggled. “No, you goose. You’ll sacrifice another to the Gods. Human death releases much power, which you’ll use to finish the spell.”

They expected her to kill someone for their weird ritual, which decided things for Rowan. She’d disabled enough of the totems to give the Skaraven a fighting chance in the coming battle. It was time for her and Taran to get out of Dodge.

“Dinnae be squeamish, Sister,” Murdina scolded. “When we finish the reckoning all mortal and druid kind shall be gone from this world. Only you shall remain to witness the rebirth of our caraidean.”

“Yay, me,” Rowan managed to say and swallowed some bile. “Okay, so show me how this works.”

The druidess described the altar they would assemble from druid-carved stones and sacred oak, and showed her the ceremonial steps to reopen the solstice ritual. All it required was setting some symbolic items in a certain order, so that presented no problem. Then she recited the actual spell, which she had Rowan repeat several times until she had memorized it perfectly.

“You’ll be obliged to cast it before you make the sacrifice, so that the blood spills as the old magic ends,” Murdina said, drawing her finger sideways across the front of her throat. She then used it to point to the sky. “Once the shroud vanishes, life shall return, restoring our lands and…all things,” she tacked on quickly. “Thus ’twill be as ’twas in our mortal lives.”

So, it would restore something else that the mad druids wanted to keep under wraps. Seeing as it needed a living sacrifice, it probably wouldn’t be rainbows and unicorns, and that made her think of what would be worse.

“I’m not going to have an army of killer Romans or a tribe of freaked-out druids fall out of the sky onto my head, am I?” she demanded. “Because if I’m bringing back your homies and the guys that killed them, you’ll just end up with a retake on the original blood-bath.”

The druidess sniffed. “’Tis no’ a bone-conjuring. That evil I leave to that shrew-faced slut who ever chases after Hendry of late.”

“You’ve got a bone conjurer running around here?” Rowan asked as she followed Murdina from the clearing.

“An acolyte who claims as much, but Flen fed her too much before she ended him. She’s too plump and lazy to run.” An unpleasant smile stretched her lips. “Come. You must finish the totem carvings in the barn to make space for more wood. Hendry needs many.”

Now Rowan knew who had been sleeping in the barn: Oriana Embry. The murderous acolyte just might provide the distraction she needed to get Murdina out of her hair.

“Hang on a minute. Oriana told you and Hendry that she killed Bhaltair Flen?”

The other woman stopped and glared at her. “Aye. She shot him in the gut with a poisoned arrow during the siege of the McAra stronghold.”

“No, Murdina, she didn’t. My sister foresaw it and warned the old man first. Bhaltair was wearing padding under his robe. He isn’t dead.”

Murdina’s head shimmered, and a glimpse of her wrinkled, furious features showed plainly beneath the younger face. They turned a splotchy red before the illusion covered them again, and she grabbed Rowan’s arms in a vicious grip.

“Say thus to me again.”

“Bhaltair Flen is still alive.” Rowan glanced down at the mad woman’s white-knuckled fists. “Now would you mind letting me go before you break something?”

* * *

The dream Taran had shared with Rowan gave him much to think on, not that he could. As soon as she left with the strange druidess he waited and listened for her voice. Then he stood and tried to see through the nearest cracks in the walls. Finally, he paced back and forth, as far as his chains would allow him to go. Another hour passed before he felt his skin prickle with the awareness he felt only with Rowan.

He sat down, assuming a neutral posture as he listened to Rowan ask Murdina for food and washing water before she came in. Relief flooded him as soon as he saw that she appeared unscathed.

“That was fun.” She came over and released his shackles. “I just got a crash course in druid magic. Looks like I’ll be the star of the show when it comes time to renovate the place.” She glanced back at the door. “Now come over here and get that arm we were working on yesterday.”

As Taran obeyed her he noted the pallor of her face, and the faint tremor of her lower lip. She looked ready to empty her belly on the ground. Her hands also shook, enough to make her thrust them in her pockets to hide the fact. Murdina hadn’t harmed her, but she’d frightened her badly. He lifted the half-finished arm onto the table and took up the position where he’d worked yesterday.

“It’s going to be pretty awesome, slave,” Rowan said, but winced as she gripped the wood, and channeled her power into it. “There’s even going to be a human sacrifice. Can’t finish the ritual and restore my tribe’s lands until I spill lots of blood.”

She sounded hearty, almost cheerful. Likely only he could detect the slight strained sound to her voice, and it gave him a little hope. Rowan could not kill. Of that he was sure. She used her hostility and aggression to shield herself, not to harm others. What she said now reminded him of the confrontation she’d had with Brennus over Perrin, when she had been truly enraged. She’d turned her power on a table rather than hurt the chieftain.

All of this had to be a lie or—he glanced at where the guards might be listening—was she somehow trying to warn him?

“Hey. Pay attention.” She pushed a chisel into his hand. “Aw, you don’t approve, or did you have something you wanted to say? Go ahead, tell me what you think.”

“’Tis why Hendry spared me,” Taran said. “He needs my death. I’m to be the sacrifice for your ritual.”

Rowan stared at him as if he’d struck her in the face. Her lips turned white, and her hands gripped the wood so hard it began to crack.

“I think you didnae ken this,” he added. “’Twould serve some purpose of his to conceal it from you. Mayhap he intends to test your loyalty with a blade and my neck.”

“You’re smarter than you look, Horse Master.” Her expression emptied until her face resembled a mask. “Yeah, it makes all kinds of sense, because really, why trust me? I have to prove myself. Good thing cutting your throat won’t be that much of a chore for me. Unless he gives me a rusty knife. Then I might have to saw a bit.”

She spoke of killing him as if it meant nothing. Perhaps it didn’t, and he’d seen in her what he’d wished rather than what was truth. Taran had given her every reason to despise him. But the bond between them transcended feelings and flesh. They shared a connection so direct it felt as if they might only be whole with each other.

“You should consider what ’twill do to you to end me.”

Rowan shrugged. “I get to save the day and see you dead in the process. Win, win.”

Taran had never told her what he’d discovered about himself when he’d opened the portal by Dun More.

“’Tis something I should tell you–”

“Shut up. I’m tired of listening to you yap.” She lifted the wooden arm and used her gift to blast it across the barn. It collided with the side wall, making the entire structure shake. “You really think you can beg for your life after the way you’ve treated me? You took away my free will. You worked me like an animal. You never trusted me, and you made damn sure no one else in the clan would. You turned everyone against me. Because of you keeping me locked up in the stables my sister died. She was all I had left in the world, you bastard.”

Taran frowned. Once more she’d made it impossible for him to speak, or he’d remind her that he’d treated her well, and Perrin was very much alive. Either Hendry had cast some sort of spell over her to confuse her thoughts, or she was pretending.

With one arm Rowan swept the wood fragments from the table. “Maybe I should thank you for treating me like dirt. Because of you I listened to what Ochd had to say. Now there’s a guy who really cares. While you’re rotting in the ground he and I are going to have front row seats in the new world order.”

He reached out to touch her, only to have his hand slapped away.

“Don’t you dare try to suck up to me now,” she said, and glanced at the barn door before she turned away from him. “Even if I did let you talk, nothing you could say will change anything. I’m done with you, Taran. You just keep your mouth shut and make yourself useful until it’s time to die.”