Highland Mist (20 page)

“Hello,” she said, not expecting them to do anything other than their usual and throw their verbal barbs.

“Hello,” said the one with light brown hair braided down the middle of her back. “My name’s Grizel and this is Jamesina,” she said, indicating the dark-headed woman.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Glenna said.

“We…ah…heard that you really aren’t a MacNeil,” Grizel said, and shot Jamesina a look.

Jamesina stepped forward. “Is it true?”

So that was why they were suddenly nice to her. “Aye. I just found out MacNeil took me from my parents.”

“Do you know who your parents are?” Grizel’s hands were clasped together in anticipation.

“Sinclair. Duncan and Catriona Sinclair.”

Both woman gasped and looked from each other to Glenna. “Every clan in the Highlands heard what happened at the Sinclair castle ten and eight years ago,” Jamesina said.

Grizel nodded. “Have you found out anything of your sisters?”

Glenna’s heart plummeted to her feet. “Sisters?”

“There were three Sinclair daughters. When the castle was raided, it was just days after the youngest was born. It was said the other two were killed.”

“I knew nothing of sisters.” Glenna’s mind struggled to find some memory of sisters or a family but came away empty.

Jamesina touched her arm. “Then you must be the infant everyone thought also died.”

Glenna’s head began to pound. “Please, excuse me,” she said, and turned to enter the castle.

* * * * *

The Shadow pulled the cloak tighter around him. Now was his time to get revenge on Glenna. She would die this time, he thought.

He looked around to make sure no one saw him as he followed her into the castle.

* * * * *

Glenna had wanted answers and she was definitely getting them but faster than she expected. Her feet took her to the stairs and climbed until there were no more. She followed the bare hallway until she came to one of the six towers.

It was a square tower and not in use by the darkness and emptiness. She spotted more stairs and hurriedly climbed them, wanting to see where it led. At the top she found a door, its hinges rusting, and opened it to find herself looking over the loch. The breeze blew the hair out of her eyes, and she raised her face toward it as she walked to the edge and put her hands on the wall.

Why hadn’t Moira told her of her sisters? She had a family. Sisters. But it had all been taken from her.

Tears blurred her vision, and hatred for MacNeil swelled in her heart. Not only had he taken her from her parents but he had killed them and her sisters.

All her years she had wondered why MacNeil hadn’t shown her compassion or any feeling at all when he claimed to be her father. Things began to make sense now, especially why she had been kept inside the castle walls.

He hadn’t wanted her to learn the truth, and he had been right to fear she would learn everything outside his walls. What hurt worse was that Iona had also known. And hadn’t told her.

If she was a Druid, did that mean her sisters were also? Obviously MacNeil had known what she was, which is why he had taken Iona. She had to know why MacNeil killed her family, and she knew who held that answer. Moira.

She needed to talk to Moira, and it couldn’t wait until tonight. Her decision made, she turned to leave when rough hands grabbed her by the shoulders. Her hands clawed at anything she could find when she saw the edge of the tower coming toward her. A scream tore from her throat. The attacker intended to push her over, but she hadn’t escaped MacNeil to be killed so easily.

She squirmed and elbowed him in the kidneys until she escaped her unseen attacker. She turned around to face him, only to find a cloaked figure. The cloak was about to come off his head, but before she got a look at his face a fist connected to her jaw.

The world tilted and spun as she landed with a jarring thud. Those manacle-type hands clamped around her throat. She resisted the blackness that threatened to overtake her to get a look at who was trying to kill her, but she could no longer breathe.

* * * * *

Conall’s head jerked up as the scream echoed around the hills. “Glenna,” he said, and ran into the castle, his sword still in his hands.

By the time he reached her chamber he shook with trepidation. He flung open the door to find it empty. Gregor and Angus ran into the chamber and looked to him.

“The towers,” Angus said as he pivoted and raced to the stairs.

Conall’s heart pounded loudly in his ears. That scream repeated again and again in his mind, her terror clear. They reached the top and each took a different tower.

“Here,” Gregor called from the square tower.

Conall rushed to the tower door and stopped. Gregor stood looking down at Glenna, her body lying still and silent. “Nay,” he murmured, and ran to Gregor’s side the same time Angus hurried to them.

Her hair had come loose from her braid and covered her face, but already bruises marred her cheeks and neck. Conall’s mind refused to believe she was dead, but he couldn’t make his body move to check.

Thankfully Gregor knelt beside her and moved her hair. “She lives.”

Conall’s legs nearly collapsed at those words. Relief surged through him and made him dizzy. But his elation was short-lived when he realized someone had tried to kill her. First Ailsa now Glenna.

“Who did this to her?” Gregor asked.

Conall bit the inside of his mouth and looked over the edge of the tower to his clan below. People milled around, their faces raised to the tower, waiting to know what happened. “We’ll know more once we get her safely to her chamber.”

“Something isn’t right, Conall.” Angus scratched his chin, his face lined with worry. “I thought the clan was coming around after they found out MacNeil wasn’t her father.”

“What?” Gregor asked. “MacNeil isn’t her father?”

Conall shook his head. “Duncan Sinclair was her father.”

Gregor whistled through his teeth. “That explains a lot. And changes many things.”

“You’ll have to explain that later. Right now I don’t want anyone else to know what happened. I especially don’t want the clan to know Glenna is hurt.”

They nodded in agreement. As gently as he could, Conall picked her up and carried her to her chamber. After he laid her on the bed, he looked up to find Moira standing beside him.

“I can heal her.”

He looked at Glenna, her body bruised and scraped and couldn’t stand the thought of her being in pain. He would suffer through a Druid helping her if it meant she would heal. He nodded and began to wash the blood from the scrapes along her arms and face.

Glenna had put up quite a fight, and he was going to make sure the bastard paid for hurting her. Moira caught his attention. He watched as she prepared her herbs. “How did you know?”

She stilled. “I heard the scream and knew it was Glenna.” After a few moments she went back to her preparations. “I’m surprised you’re allowing me to help.”

“I’m only doing it for Glenna.”

Moira looked at him over her shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing.”

But Conall didn’t want to think on that. His mind centered on Glenna and her twitch of pain as Moira spread a cream on her cuts. He stopped her when she brought Glenna a cup of liquid to drink. There would be nothing that passed her lips that would alter who she was.

“What is it?”

“It’s to help with the bruises. I’ve no need of enchantments. Druid blood flows in her veins and no amount of turning will sway her. More powerful beings than me have set Glenna on her course.”

He waited for his ability to tell him she was lying, and it took great effort to learn that she wasn’t. It frightened him a little to know his power didn’t come as easily as it used to, but he didn’t have time to think about that right now. He needed to concentrate on Glenna. “We’ll see about that.”

Moira shrugged and reached for Glenna’s head. Together they got most of the liquid down her. After Moira wiped Glenna’s face, she touched his hand. “Please let me stay beside her.”

He looked into her green eyes and saw the pain reflected there. He nodded quickly before he changed his mind.

Chapter Fifteen

Conall held Glenna’s hand silently, begging her to wake. It had been almost two days since they had found her and neither he nor Moira had left her side. And during that time he had imagined every way possible to extract his revenge on the person who would dare hurt Glenna.

The fact it was someone in his clan didn’t soften his resolve. He had told them he protected her. That should have been enough to keep everyone away from her. He looked up and studied Moira as she stared out the window. For just a moment she reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t quite grasp who.

Then he knew. It was the subtle shift in her head that did it.

“When do you plan to tell Glenna you’re her sister?”

Moira’s blonde head jerked around to gawk at him. “How did you know?”

“Similarities between the two of you. There is supposed to be three sisters. What of the other?”

She looked away. “So you remember the prophecy.”

“Aye.”

“All of it?” She lifted her eyes, staring hard into his.

“Aye.”

She laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Nay, you don’t. You must remember all of it, Conall. Your future depends upon it.”

“Tell me.”

She sighed and took the chair on the opposite side of Glenna. “I cannot.”

“You still haven’t answered me about your other sister. Since Glenna was taken as an infant I know she’s the youngest.”

“And I’m the eldest.”

He waited for her continue. “You know where the other is?”

“Aye. She’s safe for the time being.”

“Where?” Something goaded him to ask, though he wasn’t sure what.

“Safe. Where Glenna should’ve been as well. Nothing turned out as it should have that night.”

“It’s not your fault.” Her pinched lips told him she blamed herself.

“I’m the eldest. It’s my job to keep my sisters safe. I failed that night. I won’t fail again,” she said, and turned her gaze to him.

They sat in silence until Glenna murmured. Both jumped to their feet. “Glenna,” he called out to her. “Wake up.”

“Aye,” Moira said. “You’ve slept long enough.”

To their relief her eyes fluttered open. She looked from Moira to Conall and gave him a smile. She groaned and put a hand to her head. “What happened? I feel awful.”

“I was hoping you’d tell me,” he said, and sat. “You don’t remember anything?”

She thought for a moment. She tried to nod, but stopped after a grimace, and said, “Aye, I remember. Someone tried to push me from the tower.”

Conall’s gut twisted. “Who was it?”

“I never saw a face. All I remember is the hands around my throat. A man’s hands, big and very strong. And he was cloaked.”

He sighed and gave her a smile when he saw her eyes closing. “Rest. We’ll talk later.”

“Wait,” she said, her brows furrowing. “He had a mark on his hand.”

Conall froze. “A mark?”

“I didn’t see it clearly, but it was like the tattoos I’ve seen on some of the Druids. Except this one wasn’t black as the others were. It was a vivid blue.”

“Sleep,” Moira urged, and ran her hands over Glenna’s eyes. She raised her gaze to Conall. “Find who did this.”

“Only Druids hold those marks.”

She straightened and clasped her hands in front of her. “Not only Druids.”

“The warriors,” he said.

“Find him. He’s upsetting the balance.”

“Oh I will,” he promised.

* * * * *

Two days later he still hadn’t come any closer to discovering who had tried to kill Glenna. Frang and the Druids had aided him in his search, but it proved futile. Even the warriors had shown him their hands though it was evident they only did it by Frang’s request. Every Druid and warrior in the glen had markings on their hands but there wasn’t anyone who had the color mark Glenna saw.

Conall stopped next to Frang. “This changes everything. My ancestors vowed to keep the Druids safe, but I’ll not honor that vow with a rogue Druid out to murder my family.”

“It wasn’t a Druid who attempted to kill Ailsa.”

“How do you know?” Conall asked, not masking the anger. “Does your infinite wisdom point to the attacker? My family isn’t safe.”

“Because he’s the high priest.”

Conall looked beyond Frang to find a warrior. This man was different. Not quite human. “I don’t remember asking you,” Conall said, and stepped to the side of Frang. “Who are you?”

The warrior lifted one side of his mouth in a mocking grin. “Dartayous. And if you question Frang, you question all Druids.”

Conall sized up the warrior. By the many daggers placed strategically on his body, the giant sword hanging on his hip and a bow of the like he had never seen before, he was every inch the warrior. And one the others looked to.