OCHD WAITED BY the cave for Rowan for hours, soaking up as much sunlight as he needed after burrowing back to the Great Wood. That she never came made him wonder if the Skaraven had imprisoned her after taking her from the settlement. She hated the highlander, of that he was convinced.

Hendry’s transformation spells had at last changed his wooden form to flesh, and his garments to match the highlander’s. The druid had even matched the man’s ring. Along with the transformations his voice had become smoother, and he had paid close attention to how the horse master had spoken.

“They willnae ken ’tis me,” he said with the highlander’s accent, and then tried again in a lower, softer tone. “Taran Skaraven. I’m Taran. Taran.”

He could not risk burrowing closer to the stronghold, so Ochd made his way on foot. Other clansmen passed him in pairs, but simply nodded to him before continuing their patrols. He halted when he saw a group of highlanders gathered around Cadeyrn, the clan’s war master. He remained out of sight and listened as the men spoke of attacking the Wood Dream settlement. Since he had pledged himself to Rowan he no longer felt loyalty to the druids, so it did not concern him. Nor could his brethren be killed. Once the Skaraven ended Hendry and Murdina the famhairean would have no more reason to continue the fight.

By the time he reached the back of the stables Ochd felt his feelings swell. Rowan would be so happy to see him. Surely now she would go with him to her future, where they could begin a life together.

Horses stared at him as he came silently into the long row of stalls. The beasts seemed almost fearful as he came close, drawing back out of sight. Of Rowan he saw no sign, and after checking every room Ochd wondered if he would have to risk going into the stronghold itself. There he’d be surrounded by most of the clan, and possibly exposed as an imposter.

He would do whatever he had to for his lady.

A soft sound drew his attention up to the hayloft, and he caught a faint trace of Rowan’s scent. Smiling, he went to the ladder and climbed up. There lay his beautiful druidess, asleep in the hay, her hair flung down her back. Beside her lay the slumbering Taran Skaraven, one of his long arms curled over Rowan’s waist.

The scents lingering in the air told him what they had been doing before they slept.

Hendry had instructed him thoroughly on the manner humans used to produce young. To breed the new race of famhairean-human hybrids Ochd and Rowan were to do the same. The druid had warned him it would take much repetition of the act, but that had not repelled him. No, he’d longed for it, to put himself inside her. To bring her pleasure. To plant his seed deep and see it swell inside her.

She had been facking the horse master. That was why she hadn’t come to the cave. Why she had refused to go away with Ochd when he’d begged her to. Why, he realized, she had given him this face. The face of her true lover. Rowan had never been his lady. She’d deceived him to believe that so she might use him. His love for her meant nothing. It had all been a lie—her lie.

Unable to bear the sight a moment longer, Ochd turned his head away. He saw the highlander’s belt and sheathed sword where he had left them. His hand shook as he reached for the sturdy hilt and drew the blade.

If I cannae have her, he thought as he approached the sleeping pair, never again shall you.

As he hefted the long sword over his head Taran opened his eyes. The Skaraven lunged at his legs, propelling Ochd with him over the edge of the hayloft.

The sword jolted from his grip as they landed on the hard dirt floor. Taran scrambled to his feet and kicked the blade away from Ochd’s clutching hand.

He didn’t need a weapon, the famhair decided as he thrust himself to his feet. He’d tear off the horse master’s head with his bare hands.

“You cannae have her,” the highlander told him, circling around him. “She’s my mate now.”

“She’s my mate,” Ochd said, mimicking him. “You shallnae have her.”

With that he lunged, and the horses began to scream.

* * *

Rowan’s ears rang with the sound of horses going crazy and pushed herself upright. Taran was gone, and some kind of ruckus was going on down in the stables. Quickly she got to her feet.

“Hey, I wasn’t done napping.” She went to look down and saw him sprawled beside the other man, who turned over to reveal he was… “Taran?”

“Stay there,” one of them called up to her. “’Tis Ochd.”

“He lies,” his twin said. “I’m Taran. He’s the famhair.”

Panic made Rowan slide down the ladder to land a few feet away. “Ochd, don’t do this,” she told both of them. “I’m the one who lied to you. Taran had nothing to do with it. Oh, God, how do I tell?”

“You ken, Rowan,” one of them said. “Look upon me. Listen.”

“He’s become the same in every way,” the other warned. “Except–”

The other Taran punched him in the face. “You cannae deceive my lady, imposter.”

Rowan backed away as they collided and wrestled each other to the ground. Physically they were identical in every sense. Dirt covered their clothes, and in her panic, she couldn’t remember what her Taran had been wearing. She looked around, and then saw the one thing that would reveal their identities.

She grabbed the trough bucket and tossed the water in it over both men.

One Taran rolled away and pushed himself to his feet. The other did the same with great effort, then went still and stared up at her, his flawless skin cracking and darkening.

The real horse master hurried over to her and held her in his arms. “Thank the Gods you remembered that.”

“I became human for you,” Ochd said as roots burst out of his boots to sink into the ground. “So I could sire your bairns, to become the new Wood Dream. ’Twas to be our world after the reckoning.”

So that was what Hendry had planned for her, to use her to breed his new master race. Rowan felt sick.

“I would never have agreed to that, Ochd. He lied to you too.”

“The totems shall crush your highlanders when they attack. I shall see him dead.” The famhair stretched out his hand as if to touch her, but it sprouted dozens of twigs and leaves. “Rowan.”

The rest of his body began to grow taller and formed itself into the trunk of an oak, spreading more branches as its top rammed through the roof.

Taran looked up as yellow light poured out of the tree and funneled through the hole the oak had made. “He’s gone.”

“He’ll go back and tell Hendry everything,” Rowan predicted, and sighed. “We’d better go and update Brennus. I’m not going to need those shackles and chains now.”