Page 29 of The Highland Curse
“I dinnae understand what ye mean,” she said, avoiding his eyes. The blood had drained from her visage, and the radiance that enveloped her earlier had all but disappeared.
“Dinnae play me for a fool, lass.” She pulled at her arm, but he tightened his grip. “I think ye ken exactly what I mean. Has your father allied with the enemy?”
“Nay!” she said, looking startled, but then her face flushed with anger. “I already told ye that my father is a loyal subject tae the queen, and is a staunch ally tae Clan MacGregon. None of that has changed.”
He scanned her countenance, although he couldn’t detect any deception there. Perhaps she didn’t know that her father had ignored the last two summons that Rory had sent. His grip relaxed on her arm.
“If your father instructed ye tae seek help at Tancraig Castle, why would his men be hunting ye down?”
Adrina bit her lip as if she debated whether to reveal the truth. Just when he thought she would remain silent, she released a small puff of air. “My father didnae send me.”
“’Tis plain enough.” He crossed his massive arms over his chest. “But ye knew that these men were nearby. How?”
CHAPTER 13
Adrina paused, struggling to decide how much she should reveal. If she were honest with herself, she couldn’t keep the truth from Duncan any longer. His perceptions were too acute, and judging by his expression, he had already figured out that she knew more than she let on. After sharing such intimacy, and seeing a softer side of him, she was loathed to disrupt the fragile truce that they shared. But she owed him an explanation, the voice inside her insisted. Whether he knew it or not, his continued presence at her side proved hazardous to him. If he was aware of the kind of peril that he was up against, he could at least be forewarned and alert. However if she remained silent, and the guards captured them, Duncan would no doubt be wounded or terminated. And if that dreaded outcome was to occur, would she be able to live with herself?
They reached the horses and he helped her mount her steed.
“I have the gift of second sight,” she said finally, her voice low. “I can also hear voices in my head that arenae mine.”
“I dinnae believe this,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair. He climbed onto his horse and pushed forward, his eyes straight ahead.
“’Tis true,” she said, straightening her back as she followed his lead. “I’ve had these inner senses when I reached womanhood. At first the abilities were a burden tae me, but over time I came tae accept them. The castle inhabitants knew of my gifts, and they flocked tae me in hopes tae gain help for locating lost items and lovers. I’ve always had marginal success in assisting them since my guidance occurred sporadically. But until recently the attitudes of my clan members have turned hostile.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. The memory was starting to become painful, but she forced herself to continue. “I sought help from my mother, but her look of disgust was enough tae deter me. ‘Twas as if I had turned into a leper before her eyes. After this incident, I was determined tae shut out the sights and voices, but as I tried tae do this, my dreams became scarier, and the vocalizations more insistent.” She paused. “’Twas only a few days ago when the voices told me tae go tae Tancraig Castle and seek help.”
“This story ye tell is as fantastic as one of Kila’s tales,” he frowned. “’Tis my experience that those who claim tae have special gifts are terrific liars.”
“I assure ye that I’m nae lying.” Adrina clasped her hand together, suddenly needing him to believe her. “My grandmother Wynda also was a seer, although I’m uncertain whether she heard voices as well. ‘Twas her mother that compiled a powerful book of conjurations. I was shown the grimoire once, but I had forgotten about its existence. And then I discovered that Fingal MacNauld had somehow come into possession of it…”
Adrina remembered the horrifying day when she discovered that Fingal had stolen the book of spells. She had long distrusted her father’s advisor, but Tevon MacGill had confidence in the former clergyman’s ability to administer the clan territory. Perhaps she had voiced her opinions about Fingal too loudly because he promptly turned cold toward her. Meanwhile, the clansmen became suspicious and unfriendly as well. At that time she couldn’t understand why their attitudes had changed toward her.
It was also around this time when her father had left with his men to confront a troublesomesept. Once again, Fingal was put in charge. No one expected the laird to return for several days, and so the castle settled back to its usual routine. The sun was just about to set, and her mother had chosen to retire to her bedchamber. And while Adrina felt restless, she thought it was prudent to return to her bedchamber before it was too dark.
She was about to walk past a chamber when she saw a faint blue flash of light from underneath the door. It was so quick that she thought she had imagined it. But the light flashed again. As far as she remembered, this chamber had belonged to her grandmother Wynda, and was vacant. When her grandmother died, Adrina’s mother decided to keep the room intact, and forbade anyone from using it. So why then did Adrina observe a light flickering from within?
Curiosity gripped her and drew her to the door. She paused at the wooden panel, listening for any unusual commotion. But the oak door was thick, and she couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. Still, she was certain that someone was inside. And before she thought to wonder about any danger that might lurk there, she pushed opened the door, and slipped in.
Immediately she detected an acrid smell which lingered in the air. Fingal was sitting at a table, and looking down into a small wooden bowl. Candles burned on either side of him, their light spilling onto the table. A raven was perched at his shoulder. Its glassy eyes also peered into the bowl; the intensity of its regard was equal to its master. What was happening here?
Adrina inched her way to the large ornate armchair that sat off to the side, and wedged herself between it and the wall. She was assured that the piece of furniture was sufficient to conceal her presence. Crouching down, she made herself as small as possible, and peeked around to the side of the chair.
From her position, she had a clear view of Fingal. The advisor was bent over a book, and seemed unaware that she was in the chamber. He mumbled something, and she strained her ears to hear. The words he intoned, she discovered, were in Gaelic, but much of the language sounded foreign to her. He ran his fingers across the pages of a book, which somehow seemed familiar. But then comprehension dawned upon her, and her hand flew to her mouth to muffle the gasp.
Fingal was using magic!
Her mind sped to the past, recalling the odd behaviors of those that she knew and loved. Almost overnight, they had turned against her. She thought that perhaps she had offended them, but what if was Fingal who manipulated their actions? The contents of supper churned in her belly as more disturbing possibilities entered her mind. Before her father left to visit the recalcitrantsept, he was struck with a terrible illness. His sickness incapacitated him, and he was unfit to govern the clan. For a time it was left to the advisor to shoulder the responsibilities. This arrangement proved beneficial to the clan, but now she wondered if there was a chance that her father’s affliction had developed through unnatural means.
Fingal has cast a spell over Dunnvie, a whispery voice floated inside her head, confirming her suspicions. Out of sheer habit, she groped for the brooch. She squeezed the ornament in her hand, trying to derive comfort from it.
It was impossible, she thought. Yet the evidence before her couldn’t be denied. As far as she was aware, Fingal had possessed no prior skills as a sorcerer. In fact, when he learned of her special gifts, he had scoffed at it. So how did he learn magic?
‘Tis the grimoire,the voice answered without hesitation.
Adrina squinted, taking in the book that was spread out on the table. She shut her eyes abruptly just as she felt the bile rising to her throat. There was no other explanation. She was certain that it was the grimoire that belonged to her great-grandmother. That book contained pages and pages of rituals, and complex formulas and spells. Somehow Fingal had got a hold of the manual, and was using the contents to exploit the people of Dunnvie. And the evidence of his evil plan was in plain sight. As the shock of what she discovered coursed through her body, she heard his sing-song voice:
Incantation of the divine eye,
