NOW THAT HE was alone, Brennus unfurled the lengthy message from Maddock McAra. After the morning meal Althea had gone to oversee the renovations she and Lily were making to the kitchens.

“Don’t get too involved in your scrolls,” she’d warned. “After I negotiate today’s détente between the Brit and your cook I’m coming back so we can go over the reserves in the money chamber.”

He’d given her a surly look. “You’re obsessed with counting our gold.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m determined to keep you from squandering it.” She leaned over to brush her lips over his, and said in a bare whisper, “Plus, the money chamber has a nice big bar on the door, and that lovely, roomy new divan I had moved there.”

He’d tried to pull her onto his lap, but she laughed and skipped off.

Brennus reluctantly turned his attention to the message from his ally. Since relocating his family and clan to his father-in-law’s stronghold the little laird wrote weekly with what news he could offer. As yet the McAra had not yet found a trace of the mad druids and their famhairean, but Lady Elspeth had regained her health and was now growing ripe with the laird’s child. Maddock ended the missive with his intention to name the bairn either Perrin or Kanyth, to honor their efforts to save his wife, children and clan.

You shall oblige me by overlooking that I once held your brother prisoner and threatened to kill him as prelude to a clan war between us, the laird wrote. Trust that my lady shall never permit me forget it.

Brennus chuckled, and then heard footsteps. He looked up from the scroll to see Emeline and Ruadri approaching. Both looked grim, and thanks to the nurse’s power he could feel her worry radiating from across the hall. He rolled up the message and set it aside as they joined him.

“We’d no’ trouble you with this matter, chieftain,” the shaman said. “But my wife fears the lass’s state willnae improve without aid that neither she nor I may give.”

He gestured for them to sit. “You speak of Rowan.”

“Every night she avoids sleep now,” Emeline said, nodding. “I noticed it when I saw her sitting in the hall more than once after midnight. I’ve been watching her, and she never goes to her bed.”

“The patrols say she’s also taken to walking near dawn,” Ruadri added. “She treks for miles in the snow without any real direction. She’s found her way back to Dun Mor each time, but without sleep at length I fear her mind shall grow confused.”

“You’ve offered her a sleeping potion,” Brennus guessed, and the shaman nodded.

“I actually dosed her with one last night, in an herbal brew,” Emeline said, her cheeks pinking. “It had no effect at all. She also seems unaware of how little sleep she’s had, but I believe that she’s been awake for almost a week.”

Sevenday without rest would have been a feat few Skaraven might have attempted, even as immortals.

“Ken you the cause?”

Emeline related what the dark lass had told her, along with the firm denial with which Perrin had countered her claims.

“I have very limited experience with this sort of condition, Chieftain. She may be reliving genuine, repressed memories from real abuse she suffered as a child. I feel no deception from her when she speaks of it.”

“Or something has bespelled her to twist her memories into horrors,” the shaman said. “I cannae find a trace of magic on her, but my knowledge of such spells, ’tis lacking.”

Brennus sat back as what the healers wanted occurred to him. “You wish to summon the old druid to see to her.”

“Bhaltair Flen has the experience with druid maladies that we don’t,” the nurse said quickly. “He knows Dun Mor’s location now, and he was very helpful with treating the McAra clan after the attack.”

Brennus grunted and eyed Ruadri. “A careful clout on the head could solve this as well.”

“My wife doesnae permit me hit females,” the shaman said with a perfectly straight face as he took Emeline’s hand in his. “I’ll wager Althea also wouldnae take pleasure in such an order, Bren.”

“Aye, and Rowan would likely hit back.” Brennus brooded for a moment. “Could this rift between the two prove part of the cause? Their memories of their mother seem as much at odds as they’ve been.”

Emeline exchanged a look with her mate. “We don’t believe they are sisters. For her own purposes this woman who adopted them may have forced Rowan to claim Perrin as her sibling. I think that, more than the falling-out, is contributing to her confusion and insomnia.”

Brennus felt a curious surge of sympathy for the dark lass. From the first time she’d challenged his authority he’d disliked her, but she had a will of iron even Kanyth likely couldn’t bend. That commanded his respect if nothing else. Over time he’d come to see that she also concealed how she’d suffered. He recognized that from the manner in which he’d endured the many torments of being bred as an indentured warrior. Those who were not destroyed by their burdens carried them without complaint.

“Send a message to Flen,” he told Ruadri. “Ask him come to Dun Mor to examine our carpenter, and determine if he may aid her.”

Ruadri left to attend to the task, but Emeline remained behind, her expression still troubled.

“I’ve done as you asked, my lady,” Brennus reminded her.

“I’m grateful, Chieftain.” She started to rise, and then sat back down. “There’s something more I wanted to tell you, but I’m not sure if I should. Too often my gift gives me insight into feelings that are, well, none of my business.”

“Does this matter affect my clan?’ he countered, and when she nodded he said, “You may be McAra by blood, Emeline, but you’re Skaraven by choice. Loyalty to the clan comes before all other concerns.”

She sighed. “You’re right, of course. I wasn’t aware of it until I saw you talking with Taran yesterday morning. He was watching Rowan from across the hall, wasn’t he?”

“Mayhap.” Brennus frowned, for he couldn’t quite recall what he had said to the horse master. “Why should it concern you?”

“It occurred to me later that I’d never seen the two of them in the same room,” Emeline told him. “The fact is that when I walked between them I felt something. I’d call it emotion, but it seemed deeper and stronger. I can only call it a type of powerful psychic connection. It ran from Taran to Rowan continuously, like a river no one could see.”

Once Brennus might have scoffed at such musings, but since mating with Althea he’d formed an unbreakable attachment to his wife.

“You believe she’s been marked by Tran’s centaur, then?”

“No,” the nurse declared flatly, startling him. “Pritani battle spirit energy is quite different, and since I share that with Ru I’m familiar with how it feels. I think what connects Taran and Rowan is a form of magic. Druid magic.”