Page 56 of Bound By Deception

Don’t get ahead of yourself.Mac Brochan’s widow wouldn’t likely be cast from the broch. She could still be the Raven Queen’s eyes and ears here.

Her pulse stuttered once more, and Bree’s mouth thinned. For some reason, the thought of mac Brochan never returning to Duncrag unsettled her. It shouldn’t—she should rejoice. Meanwhile, the silver acorn closed in on itself, sealing her message within.

Ignoring the uneasiness that still pitched within her, Bree rose to her feet, the acorn clasped in her hand, and left the chief-enforcer’s alcove.

As she’d done at dawn, she made her way up onto the walls, but, this time, she walked to a scheduled spot on the eastern ramparts, where pigeons cooed, that looked out at where the River Lethe widened as it headed toward the sea. The morning’s mist had burned off, and sunlight glittered off the water. Hergaze traveled to the willows growing upon the riverbanks, far below, their foliage bright green with new growth.

The distance was too great, and her mortal eyesight too weak, for Bree to spy anything perched there—yet Mor had assured her that Eagal would sit among the trees during daylight, awaiting news.

Glancing around, Bree made sure that no one was watching her. There were no sentries in this section. She was safe.

She drew in a deep breath then before letting out a low caw. It hurt her throat to make the sound—one that had come so easily to her in her Shee form—but she managed it. The caw carried through the still afternoon air, over the thatched and sod roofs of the cottages that tumbled down the crag below her.

She then waited.

A short while later, a large raven appeared, winging its way from the willows, in a wide arch toward the broch that perched atop the promontory. The raven was bigger than most, its feathers a deep blue-black that gleamed in the sunlight.

Eagal swooped down then, landing lightly atop a post just a few feet from Bree.

Mor’s messenger fixed her with a hard, glassy gaze, and despite that she’d seen the bird several times over the years, Bree suppressed a shudder. ‘Eagal’ meant ‘Fear’, and he was aptly named. The bird had a way of looking at you that stripped away your defenses.

All the same, Eagal was her first contact with home in well over two turns of the moon.

Bree’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a heavy weight settling upon her chest as longing for Sheehallion, with its soft air and bright skies, barreled into her.

You can’t go home yet … not until you discover something of real use.

The reminder was a sobering one. Pulling herself together, she opened her eyes. Then, glancing around to ensure she wasn’t being watched, she stepped forward, offering Eagal the silver acorn upon the palm of her hand.

The raven fixed her with a beady stare for an instant longer before he plucked the acorn up. And then he was airborne once more, swooping east. No doubt, he was flying toward Deeping, the barrow nearest to Duncrag.

Bree watched him go, her pulse racing.

24: SEVEN CROWS

BREE WAS DESCENDING the worn stone steps from the walls when a heavy-set bay horse thundered into the yard, ridden by a lanky man with short blond hair.

Torran.

Bree frowned, melting into the shadows at the base of the stairs lest he see her. Best she was as secretive as possible about her movements.

His horse was lathered, and when he drew it up, a stable hand emerged to take it from the enforcer. “Where have you been these past days?” the older man asked as Torran swung down from the saddle.

“On a brief visit to the House of Maids,” Torran replied.

A chill washed over Bree at this admission.Shit. Shit. Shit!

“Why is that then?” the nosy stable hand asked. “Buying yourself a bride too, are you?”

Torran’s lip curled, although he didn’t answer. “Where is the chief-enforcer?”

“He’s not here … the High King’s sent him north to deal with trouble.”

“Aye?”

The man nodded. “The Circines are stirring things up again.”

Torran’s jaw tightened at this news. Then, giving his horse a gentle slap on the rump, he turned and strode away across the yard toward the broch. Bree followed, grateful for her light sandals, which moved noiselessly across the hard-packed earth.

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