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Authors: Debbie Mazzuca

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“Nay, a messenger arrived a short time ago. He’s been delayed for a day or two.” Jamie demanded her attention and she turned to assist her son, ignoring her husband muttering beside her.
“Rory tells me Lan is missin’. Any idea where he was headed?” Fergus who sat beside him asked.
The knot of guilt riding low in his belly tightened. “Aye, a couple of the lads thought he might have been on his way to London. He’s been restless of late.”
Restless
. His brother had been like a whirlpool in the loch, spinning out of control, sucking everyone down with him. And Aidan had done nothing. He’d stood back and watched as if naught were amiss. Too busy battling his own demons to deal with his brother’s. Too afraid if he peeled back the scab from the wound, anger and blame would ooze to the surface, and he’d say things he could never take back.
“Aye, I thought I heard mention of that when last he was here. I wouldna fret, he’s a braw lad. He can handle himself.”
Drawing comfort from Fergus’s assertion, a man Aidan greatly respected, he allowed himself to relax. As he brought the goblet of mead to his lips, the wee demon shook his arm and the ruby red liquid sloshed onto his tunic. “What?” he growled.
Innocent blue eyes blinked up at him, and the lad pointed to the slab of beef on his platter. Aidan glanced at his cousin, who was deep in conversation with his wife. With a disgruntled sigh, he took out his dirk and cut off a piece of meat for the bairn.
“Thank you,” Alex mumbled.
“Ye’re welcome,” Aidan said, dabbing at the stain with the linen. Something hit him on the head then dropped into his goblet with a splash. More of the sticky liquid splattered his tunic.
Rory looked over at him, brow arched. “I doona remember you bein’ such a messy eater.”
Aidan glared at Alex and Jamie, who snickered behind their wee hands. “’Twas no’ me.”
Aileanna pinned her sons with a withering glare. “I’m sorry, Aidan.” Rising from her chair, she gathered the protesting Jamie under her arm. “Nay, if you throw your food, you’ll eat in the nursery. You, too, Alex.”
“But, Mama, I didna—”
“I know, pet, but your brother will not stay put without you. And Mama’s too tired to be running up and down after him.”
His cousin shot his wife a worried look. “Are you no’ feelin’ well, love?”
Aileanna smiled. With the backs of her fingers, she stroked her husband’s cheek. They shared an intimate look, and Rory pressed her fingers to his lips.
Sweet Christ, Iain was right. ’Twas enough to make a man gag.
“I’m fine. Come along, Alex,” she said as she walked away.
Alex held out his arms to Aidan.
“What?”
“I canna get off.” He wiggled in his chair and Aidan noted the extra padding that kept him tucked in place.
“Fer the love of God,” he grumbled, lifting the lad into his arms. His baby soft hair tickled Aidan’s nose. When the bairn wrapped his arms tightly around Aidan’s neck, a memory of Lan at a similar age came over him. He closed his eyes at the surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.
“Mama, Uncle Aidan cursed,” Alex said, scampering after Aileanna.
“I did no’,” he muttered. Returning to his chair, he stabbed his meat.
Rory chuckled. “You have a way with the bairns, cousin. Mayhap Aileanna and I should take ourselves off fer a wee while and leave you to mind them.”
“Doona even think about it. I’ll no’ be here fer long, I have to find my brother.”
Rory’s amusement faded. “Aye. If he was in the area, I’m certain we would’ve heard about it. Mayhap he decided to stay in London fer a while. Isna yer uncle—”
“Aye, I sent him a missive and await his reply.”
Rory leaned back and nursed his mead. “Why doona we give it a week or so? He’s probably makin’ his way back. In the meantime, I’ll write to some of my acquaintances and see what comes of it.”
Aidan nodded, but he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that Laclan was in trouble.
A week later, they received two missives from his cousin’s acquaintances and sequestered themselves in Rory’s study to review the contents.
Aidan threw down the letter his cousin had grimly passed to him, and cursed. “We canna deny it any longer, Rory, something’s amiss. We’ve searched everywhere within a two days’ journey of Dunvegan and still there’s no sign of him.”
Rory blew out a frustrated breath. “’Tis like he’s disappeared into thin air.”
At his cousin’s words, a horrifying revelation came to Aidan. The memory of Syrena disappearing before his very eyes caused him to jump to his feet. The chair clattered to the floor. “The Fae! I should’ve kent it. Bloody hell, I’ll kill her if I ever get my hands on her.”
“Aidan, calm yerself. Sit down. What do you mean the Fae? You canna tell me you actually believe in faeries. They doona exist, no’ in our time. ’Tis simply the imaginin’s of the old ones and bairns.”
Aidan slumped in his chair and met his cousin’s incredulous stare. “Believe me, I wish that was all it was, but ’tis no’.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, ashamed of revealing his family’s secret. But seeing no way around it, he told the sorry tale to the two men he’d trust with his life, leaving out as much about Syrena as he could.
An uncomfortable silence ensued then Rory asked, “Why did you never tell us this before?”
Aidan’s harsh bark of laughter contained every ounce of bitterness reliving the tale had caused him. “’Tis no’ somethin’ one wants people to ken, Rory. My mother had an affair with a faery, my brother’s half-Fae and talked to them when he was a bairn, and my father died trying to kill him. Nay, ’tis fodder fer the gossipmongers I’d rather they no’ have.”
“I understand that, Aidan, but ye’re like a brother to me and Iain. You didna have to go through this alone.”
Aidan met Fergus’s sympathetic gaze. The older man laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. “The lad is right. You should’ve come to us.”
“Well, now ye ken it all.”
“Iain mentioned meeting a woman last year by the name of Syrena. Is she, by chance, the one you referred to as Lan’s sister?”
Aidan lowered his gaze from his cousin’s penetrating green eyes.
“I see,” Rory murmured as though he saw far more than Aidan wanted him to.
His cousin and Fergus shared an assessing look. “There’s only one thing we can do. We’ll raise the faery flag. We have one wish left and we’ll use it to get Lan back.”
Aidan slammed his fist on the desk. “Nay, Rory, nay, I’ll no’ touch anythin’ belongin’ to them. I want nothin’ to do with the Fae.” He hung his head between his hands. Sweet Christ, the last thing he wanted to do was call upon the Fae for help. But if they had Lan, how else would he get his brother back?
Rory circled the desk. Removing several dusty tomes from the bookshelf, he opened a concealed compartment. He glanced at Fergus, then handed Aidan a piece of faded silk.
Aidan closed his hand around the fabric and nodded. “Aye.” Rory was right. There were no other options available to him. He had to call on a people he reviled. A race that had destroyed his family and now was attempting to steal his brother from him. Would his suffering at the hands of the Fae never end?
With a heavy heart he followed the two men up the narrow stone steps to the tower. A strong gust of wind ripped the latch from Rory’s hand and the door slammed against the stone wall. A spattering of icy rain fell upon them. Lightning crackled in the night sky followed by a blast of thunder so fierce it rattled the stone beneath their feet. The lantern Fergus held swung back and forth, squeaking on its rusted hinges, its amber light cutting a swath through the inky blackness.
“Mayhap we should wait fer the weather to clear.”
“Nay, you canna put it off, Aidan. Here, I’ll help you,” his cousin offered quietly.
The flag snapped in the wind, once, twice, three times. There was an explosive clap. Bright blues, yellows, and greens sparked and sputtered to life then a cloud of smoke engulfed them. The three of them choked, coughing on the thick acrid air. Aidan’s eyes burned, and he rubbed them. When his vision cleared, the woman he thought never to see again stood before him.
“Syrena.”
Chapter 13
Syrena rubbed her eyes. Only moments ago she’d fled the Seelie court. In her attempt to escape the barrage of questions from her stepmother and uncle, had she unwittingly used her magick? She had sought a moment of solitude to come up with answers that would incriminate no one but leave no doubt as to Evangeline’s innocence.
If she had used her magick, she thought as a bitter wind pushed her against a hard surface, what Fae-forsaken place had she sent herself? Syrena batted at the smoky haze. One day, she vowed, her magick would work the way it was supposed to.
“Syrena.” The deep, raspy voice with the thick brogue was unmistakable. A voice from her past, one she’d desperately tried to forget, but never could.
“Aidan,” she whispered, helpless to still the excited beat of her heart.
The haze lifted. Amber light danced across the harsh planes of his beautiful face. A face that had haunted her dreams, but this was no dream. They stared at each other across the windblown parapet. The first to shake free from the shock, Aidan took a menacing step toward her, a feral grin slashing across his face.
There was no mistaking his intent. Every muscle coiled to pounce; he was like a creature stalking his prey. And from the way he looked at her, she had little doubt his intended prey was her. The images from the scrying mirror came quickly to mind, and she reached behind her to unsheathe Nuie.
The man she thought she loved no longer existed. In his place stood a stranger—a stranger who wanted her dead. The images her stepmother had once tormented her with came back to taunt her, but this time Syrena embraced them. She was a warrior. No longer would a man, Mortal or Fae, make her feel vulnerable.
“Don’t come any closer,” she warned. The wind whipped a lock of hair across her face, and she shoved it away.
Aidan barked a harsh laugh. “Do ye think to frighten me with yer wee sword?”
Nuie hummed. Shards of red emitted from between her fingers. Syrena heard a startled oath and for the first time noted the presence of two more men. The one standing directly behind Aidan was as big and dark as he was, with the same fierce expression upon his face. But the older man who stood a little to their right looked more curious than angry. She wondered if he at least could be made to see reason.
Despite the pain Aidan had caused her in the past, she didn’t wish to kill him or his friends. She did her best, even in battle, to preserve life. Nuie could kill both Mortal and Fae with a single blow. But Uscias had taught her how to command him so the magick emitted at lower doses would wound, not kill.
The wind howled and rain lashed her gown to her body. Intent on remaining upright, her stance defensive, she barely made out the words Aidan yelled at her. “Where is he? Where is my brother?”
They moved closer, crowding her, towering above her. Their handsome faces carved into seething masks of rage.
She glanced at the older man. “If you value your friends’ lives, call them back.” But he made no move to stop them. With little more than a foot between them, Syrena acted quickly, commanding Nuie to full force. She gripped the rain-slicked hilt with both hands and swung at the base of the pole. There was a loud clang as metal met metal and sparks blistered the air. Nuie vibrated in her hand with the force of the blow. The pole smashed to the ground between them.
Aidan and his friend jumped back, their jaws dropped. She met the older man’s startled gaze. “That was a warning. See they don’t threaten me again.”
A door creaked open and a sliver of light escaped before a beautiful woman with long, flaxen hair stepped onto the parapet. “Rory, what’s going on out here? Oh . . .” She frowned upon seeing Syrena.
“Aileanna, get back inside. Now!” the man beside Aidan yelled.
The woman scowled. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on. And don’t you dare yell at me, Rory MacLeod.”
The man heaved an exasperated sigh. “Aileanna,
mo chridhe
, ’tis dangerous. Go back inside.
Please
.”
She narrowed her gaze on him. “Nay, I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me where this woman came from and why you have her backed into a corner in the pouring rain?”
“Fer the love of God, woman, do you have to be so bloody stubborn? Get yer arse in the keep, now!”
The woman skirted his attempt to reach for her. Lifting her gown, she leaped over the pole. Syrena quickly muted Nuie’s power when the woman placed herself between Syrena and the men.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m not going to stand by while the three of you threaten a defenseless woman.”
“Defenseless? She’s the one with the sword!”
Ignoring the man she called Rory, she looked over her shoulder at Syrena.
“I’m Aileanna MacLeod, and I apologize for my husband and his cousin’s behavior.”
Syrena couldn’t help but smile at the woman who attempted to defend her. She reminded her of Fallyn. Aileanna MacLeod would make a good warrior. “I’m Princess Syrena. And please, don’t worry about me, I can look after myself. Besides, you’re getting wet.”
“So are you.” She tilted her head. “Syrena, I wonder . . . Iain mentioned someone—”
“Enough! Aileanna, she’s Fae and she’s taken Lachlan. Now do as your husband says so I can deal with her,” Aidan bellowed.
Syrena nudged Aileanna aside. “What are you talking about? I haven’t taken Lachlan. I haven’t seen him since—”
“Doona think ye can feed me yer lies. He’s disappeared and I want him back.”
She flinched in the face of his fury. If she had any doubts about his opinion of her, he’d just made his feelings abundantly clear. Rory placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.
Syrena ignored the ache in her heart. She didn’t care how he felt about her—whatever feelings she once had for him no longer existed. Her stepmother was right. He was no different than Fae men. But her brother was another matter, and the fact he seemed to have disappeared worried her. She thought back to what King Gabriel had said about his missing men. But surely they had nothing to do with Lachlan; no one knew he was Fae. At least she didn’t think anyone did.
Before Syrena had a chance to respond, Aileanna took matters into her own hands. Pushing her wet hair from her face, she said, “I’m freezing. We’ll continue this inside.” She took hold of Syrena’s hand. “We’ll get you into some dry clothing before you catch a chill.”
“Aileanna, I doona think—”
“I’m well aware of that, Rory MacLeod. Now, go.” She motioned them away with her hand. “Fergus, take Aidan with you. We’ll meet in my solar shortly.”
Aidan muttered something about Iain being right before he shot Syrena a malevolent glare. The older man none-too-gently ushered him to the door.
Syrena looked from Nuie to the broad backs of the three men who tromped down the stone steps in front of them. They stood head and shoulders above her, and at least two of them looked like they wanted to strangle her. But she had a feeling the woman at her side wouldn’t allow it and reached back to resheathe her sword. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, although a part of her may have been tempted to maim Aidan, just a little. Let him feel a smidgen of what she’d felt when she’d seen her deer lying dead on the forest floor with his dagger buried to the hilt in her blood-stained fur. To have him suffer a portion of the devastating ache she’d endured every time Morgana forced her to look in the scrying mirror. To experience a single iota of the pain she’d suffered knowing how much he despised her for simply being Fae.
She hadn’t realized she’d stopped walking until she felt Aileanna’s intent gaze upon her. “Is something the matter?” Syrena asked.
“Nay.” She tilted her head. “You’re not what I expected.”
Syrena quirked a brow.
“I mean . . . I thought a faery would be . . . well, taller, ethereal with . . . wings,” she finished with a grimace.
Syrena barely managed to restrain her laughter. “No wings, but you’re right, I am smaller then any of the Fae I know.” She didn’t feel the need to list her many other shortcomings in the eyes of the Fae, although these days none of her brethren seemed inclined to point them out.
“And the story that you steal babies isn’t true either, is it?”
Syrena’s eyes widened. “No, is that what they say about us?”
“Among other things, but don’t worry, I prefer to form my own opinions. I consider myself a fairly good judge of people and you seem like a nice person, Syrena.”
“Thank you, so do you.” She smiled, relieved that Aileanna wasn’t as judgmental as
some
members of her family. “You’re very open-minded.”
Aileanna laughed. “Well, if you knew anything about my past, you’d understand why.” At her questioning look, she said, “I’ll tell you some other time.”
The men turned and glared at Aileanna. “Don’t worry, I won’t let them harm you,” she said, a stubborn set to her chin.
“Thank you,” Syrena murmured, descending the final step to the small enclosed landing.
The three men stood several feet ahead of them, about to descend another set of stairs. Aidan jerked from their hold and strode back to them with his cousin and Fergus on his heels. He filled the small dank space with his imposing bulk. Torchlight bounced off the stone walls to cast the hard lines of his face in a sinister glow. His gray eyes were glacial. As though he fought to restrain himself, his big hands balled into fists at his sides and muscles rippled beneath the wet white shirt that clung to him like a second skin.
“Doona think ye can escape. I’ll get an answer from ye if it takes all night.” He stood so close the heat of his breath fanned her cheek.
She lifted her chin, fighting to contain a shiver of unease. “I don’t plan on going anywhere until I find out what you’ve done to my brother.” As if she could go anywhere, the portals to the Enchanted realm would now be closed. But she told him the truth. Until she knew what had happened to Lachlan, she would not leave. “But just so you know, if I wanted to,
you
couldn’t stop me.”
Fury darkened his eyes, and she reached back to unsheathe Nuie. Aileanna inserted herself between them, placing her hands on his chest. “Rory, Fergus,” she snapped. “Get Aidan out of here.”
Rory slanted a furious look in his wife’s direction before he jerked Aidan away, shoving him toward their companion. Wagging his finger at Aileanna, Rory said, “I’m no’ verra happy with you at the moment. Once we have this matter taken care of, you and I have a few things to discuss.”
“Aye, we do, and you’d best keep your voices down before you wake the boys.”
He included Syrena in his disapproving grunt before he stomped after Aidan and Fergus.
“Men,” Aileanna harrumphed. Taking Syrena by the hand, she led her along a dimly lit corridor, past the staircase the men had descended. A loud crash echoed from below, and the men’s voices rose in anger. “I should’ve locked them in the tower until they had their tempers under control. If Jamie and Alex wake up, I’ll never get them back to sleep.”
“I’m sorry, Aileanna, it’s my fault.”
Syrena bumped into the other woman when she came to an abrupt halt. Aileanna turned to look at her, her brow furrowed. “Why? Did you take Lan?”
“No, of course not, I—”
With a relieved smile, she said, “Thank goodness. I wouldn’t have wanted to hand you over to Aidan. I’ve never seen him so angry.”
Syrena stood a little taller, a belligerent tilt to her head. “I can handle him if I have to.”
Aileanna’s lips twitched, and she patted her shoulder. “I’m sure you can, but it won’t be necessary.” She opened a heavy wooden door and nudged Syrena inside. “Don’t worry, we’ll get this all straightened out. We’ll find Lan.” While Aileanna attempted to light a fire in the stone hearth, she glanced over her shoulder at Syrena. “You said Lachlan was your brother, but I never heard mention of Aidan and Lan having a sister.”
Syrena’s cheeks flushed. “I’m Lan’s sister, not Aidan’s.”
“Oh . . . oh, I see.” She cleared her throat then came to her feet. “I’ve never been able to light a fire, and I’ll be damned if I’ll call Rory to light it for us. Wrap yourself up in that blanket and I’ll bring you some dry clothes,” she said, pointing to a thick brown woolen blanket at the foot of the large four-poster bed.
Before she left the room, Syrena asked, “Aileanna, how did I come to be here?”
The woman stopped, closing the door she’d just opened and leaning against it. “The faery flag,” she murmured. After a slowly released breath, Aileanna said, “It’s how I came to be at Dunvegan.”
She came to sit beside Syrena on the edge of the bed. “I’m from the twenty-first century. I was a physician in my time and was here on Skye, in the castle, when Iain raised the faery flag in the year 1598. Rory was badly wounded in a battle and Iain was terrified he was going to die so the flag was their last hope. And . . . well, thanks to the faeries, here I am.” She smiled.
“You didn’t wish to go back to your own time?”
Aileanna laughed. “Oh, yes, I did in the beginning. But then I fell in love with Rory and got my happily ever after.” She came to her feet and patted Syrena’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will work out for you, too. Was it your family who gave the MacLeods the flag?”

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