Bloodstone (16 page)

‘
SETH
.’

Leonora’s voice was the terrifying one of her youth and power, and I couldn’t repress the involuntary cringe of fear. I shook myself angrily.

‘I only said it, witch. The rest of you, go on and think it. You hypocrites.’

‘Stella has absolute authority where—’

‘Stella, if that’s what you want to call her, is a fool and a reckless one.’ I seized Finn’s shoulder and thrust her forward. ‘Tell her. Tell her. Everything. You
owe her.’

Finn was unsteady on her feet, and not just from my rough handling. Leonora stood for long moments, fists clenched, lips compressed, breathing hard through her nostrils. Oh, she’d
recovered fast. It crossed my mind to thank my own gods that she was dying, because the light in her eye was a deadly one.

Silently Sionnach came to my side. ‘He’s right,’ he said.

Leonora looked from him, to me, to Finn. At last she held out a hand to her granddaughter.

‘Come with me, child.’

‘I’m not a—’

‘I said come.’ She threw me a last, fleeting, homicidal glare. ‘We’ll talk about this alone. None of it’s any business of your—’ she fought for a
suitable expression ‘—your grandfather’s
by-blow
.’

By sheer force of will she led Finn, silent and pale, into the dark line of the trees. The rest of us avoided each other’s eyes for a hideously long time.

‘Ach.’ I stood up sharply. ‘The hell with all of it. I’ll get us something to eat.’ I called the roan silently, grabbed a handful of its mane.

‘Want company, Murlainn?’ Sionnach gave me a half-smile.

‘Do I ever? I’ll have your crossbow.’ Pilfering it, I scrambled onto the roan, which was already breaking into a trot.

Company? I couldn’t think of anything I wanted less.

Not in real life, anyway.

‘Sod off, Faramach.’ Finn ground her teeth.

Ignoring her, the raven settled on her arm. Fair enough: it wasn’t the bird’s fault. It was her family she wanted to hate, but that was being undermined by some
fierce emotion she didn’t like to name. It felt a little like being at home. A lot like belonging. And it still made the grief spark and flare into a ball of white fury in her spine, because
it was built on such an enduring lie.

She stared at the spot where Leonie had been, where she’d calmly stood and torn to shreds everything Finn had ever known, everything she’d ever thought she was. A
little regretful, but unapologetic, the old woman had left her with an abrupt consoling hug, and since then Finn had simply stood and waited for the world to make sense. Her heart felt cold as
stone.

The silence of the wood closed in, Faramach’s stare making it even more oppressive. She liked him, always had, but he seemed different here: not quite so much of a pet.
She wanted human company; no, only one human. She wanted Conal, wanted him desperately.

The raven’s head jerked up, making her snatch her hand away. He gave a growling caw. And Conal strode towards her out of the shadow of the trees.

Her face cracked into a reluctant smile. She called – whether she was aware of it or not – and he came. Wasn’t that always the way? She understood better now
why that was, but she had never in her life been happier to see him. He was wearing that long black cashmere coat she’d always liked. He was beautiful in it. Not, she thought with filial
pride, that he wasn’t beautiful anyway.

‘Conal!’

He didn’t smile, not even a little, and that was so unusual a tremor rattled down her spine. She halted within a few feet of him.

‘You’re angry with me?’ She took another pace towards him.

Conal smiled at last, but it was the ghost of a smile, and all she could sense in it was a massive emptiness. He glanced over her shoulder, towards the sea, then looked back
at her and laid the palm of his hand against her cheek. It felt very, very cool and dry. No, not cool. Cold.

For the first time in her life she wanted to run from him. But that seemed ridiculous, so she held her ground and his intent stare. His eyes were as black and fathomless as
the eyes of Seth’s horse.

Absently Conal withdrew his hand from her face, and touched his own throat. Then he glanced down at Faramach, but the bird only stared back at him.

She frowned. ‘Conal...’

His head jerked up, and he placed his fingers against her lips as he stared towards the camp. Then he smiled at her properly, and winked. And then he walked away.

‘Conal!’ She had a strange notion then: that she ought to delay him, that she must at all costs stop him walking on. But there was only movement, light and shade,
the dull gleam of fair hair, the flick of a black coat merging into shadow. He was gone.

She blinked, her heart twisting; then she shrugged off the hurt and the niggling fear, and snapped at the bird instead. ‘What’s your problem?’

Faramach looked thoughtfully skywards, then tilted his head back towards her. And then, strangely, he craned his sinister head forward and pressed it to her cheek. It was an
odd combination of sensations, the warm skin and feathers, and the cool black beak.

‘Finn!’ The call was abrupt.

She turned towards Eili’s voice, then yelped. Faramach had given her forearm a hard nip. Instinctively, immediately, she shut off her thoughts, remembering Conal’s
cold fingers against her lips.

‘Where have you been? Come back to the fire. Sionnach says there’s something out here.’

‘Again?’

‘In the trees. Don’t you believe me?’ Eili chewed her lip thoughtfully. ‘Look, you miss Cù Chaorach. When he gets here you’ll feel better.
Now come.’

She was suddenly very sick of it. She wanted to yell:
His name is Conal MacGregor. And his brother is Seth MacGregor. They don’t have other names. THEY DON’T
HAVE NAMES I’VE NEVER HEARD IN MY LIFE.

‘Oy. Calm down, you. The north of England can hear you think.’ Eili threw her a dark look as she pushed back a branch. There was the clearing, and the crackling
fire. ‘Look, I’m sorry about Seth. He’s wound you up. Don’t provoke him.’

‘Seth’s a brat.’

Eili sucked her teeth. ‘Seth’s seen a lot you haven’t. He certainly isn’t spoilt.’ She paused for a heartbeat. ‘Not the way you mean. And
Conal loves him.’

Glaring at her, Finn sat down close to Jed. ‘Conal loves everybody.’

‘But Seth loves Conal. And Seth’s love is something you don’t see every day. You know what? You need to sleep.’ Eili laid her hand casually against the
back of Finn’s head.

Finn was hit by a heavy wave of drowsiness that washed over her brain, flooding and deadening.

Fine. Kill thoughts, and there was more space for dreams. And in this place she dreamed of her mother, but a different version of her, as if she was the woman Stella had
abandoned here.
Come on, Finn. Come to me.
Arms wide and welcoming.

Finn touched her emerald pendant, the coolness of it a bright pebble of awareness in the fog of sleep creeping from Eili’s fingers. Couldn’t think. Didn’t
want to.

Don’t think. Don’t think.

Dreams are better.

I relaxed into it. Why not? I needed to block out the real world, I needed to get my head round how things had changed, and why. I knew why Leonora had returned, and I
couldn’t see how Conal was going to stop her, and in truth I didn’t want him to. I was sick of the Bloodstone, sick of exile, sicker even than I’d been in the early days.

~ Hush now. Don’t think these things. Don’t think.

She curled down beside me, leaves rustling in the faintest breeze, barely distinguishable from the whisper of her dress as it billowed across my body. Nearby I heard the movement of the roan,
the small whimpering sigh of Branndair. I was tired but I didn’t want to go back to the others yet, even if they were waiting for my still-warm catch. I could smell the deer’s blood. I
could hear the drip of it onto dry leaves. I must be half-awake still.

~ No, don’t go back yet. Not yet...

Fine by me. I found her dream-mouth, pushed her red-gold hair back from her face. She tasted of hazelnuts. Liking that, I stopped kissing her, licked the corner of her mouth, and she made a
small happy sound. I felt her hand run across my thigh, slide between my legs, and I gasped and grinned. Her grin was against mine. I kissed her again.

~ How foolish it all is. I like you, young man. I like you very much.

There was nothing I could answer to that. Instead I pulled her against me and onto me.

~ I even like your brother, traitor as he is...

It was Branndair’s soft resentful growl that made me open my eyes. My heart thudded. The prickle of leaves beneath me was real against my skin, the drip of deer-blood behind me was clear
and real. The cool breeze was no dream either.

Copper hair brushed my face, lips touched my cheek, turned my lips back to hers.

I jerked back, stumbling.

‘Kate.
Gods
.’ I snatched behind me, seeking my sword. Couldn’t shut my eyes on her quiet smile.

Her altogether
real
smile.

Reaching across me, she held my arm. Surprised by the strength in her fingers, I could only gape at her.

‘Am I armed, Murlainn? Am I? I no more wish you harm than I did in dreams.’

‘You do.’ My voice was a croak. I wondered where her fighters were. I could think only that to die like this was the worst of humiliations. I thought of Conal, and shrivelled, inside
and out.

‘Oh, hush. You think I would bring you here to murder you? That’s not my way.’

Why not?
I thought.
It always has been.

She laughed, released my arm. I staggered to my feet, pulling my clothes desperately back on. My heart nearly failed as I struggled into my t-shirt, knowing I couldn’t see her for a
second, but as I yanked it down over my torso she remained motionless, smiling up at me. She reached out her delicate hand. Not knowing what to do, I took it, raised her to her feet.

‘What do you—’

‘Listen to me, Murlainn. That’s all I want. For you to listen.’

I glanced down at Branndair, who was watching her with fearful hostility. But he had eyes only for Kate, not for the trees around us or anyone they might be hiding. The blue roan took no notice
of us at all, only went on cropping the grass where the deer’s blood had fallen. I listened for long seconds to the silence of the forest, then eyed her.

‘So talk,’ I said.

She stroked my face with the back of her hand. I wanted to flinch, I wanted to lean into her touch. ‘I’ve seen inside your head, Murlainn.’

‘You had no business—’

‘No. But desperate times make us all desperate. I know what you’ve seen in the otherworld. Centuries of it. So many years of conflict and death and war. They’re not like us,
Murlainn.’

I barked out a laugh.

‘Oh, we can fight, Murlainn. But their hatred is different. You know it.’

I thought of the things I’d seen, the places I’d been as I fought off the longing for home: the things that only made me long for it more.

‘I’ve seen all that too, Murlainn. You think I don’t know that world?’

‘If you know it,’ I said bitterly, ‘why would you want to own it?’

Closing her eyes, she sighed. Her arms snaked round my neck and she pressed her lips to it. Sadness and regret seeped from her, pulling at my own tangled emotions.

‘You feel the Veil, Murlainn,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t deny it.’

I was silent. I’d thought that was my own secret. Suddenly, horribly, I knew nothing was.

‘Do you?’ I asked at last. ‘Feel the Veil?’

Her head moved against my neck,
~ No.

I tried to push her back. I couldn’t think straight. Her touch was like water, filtering through my skin and my skull, soothing my brain, calm and cool. ‘Kate, I can’t do
anything with the Veil. I can feel it, touch it, is all. I can’t help you.’