Page 2 of Highland Warrior
“Have you eaten today, Brother?” Morgana, his younger sister, flowed into his laboratory carrying a tray of food. Though breakfast or dinner, he couldn’t be certain.
“I know not,” he answered shortly, eyeing the doorway for the inevitable following of his sister’s Berserker mate. “What day is it?”
“Would it matter if I told you?” Morgana’s blue dress shimmered like crystalline water as she made her way past candles, lanterns, shelves, scrolls, and herbs to set his repast on the table in front of him.
“Nay,” he admitted, the word almost drowned out by the loud, hungry sound his stomach made at the scent of salted pork, rosemary roasted potatoes, and beets.
Morgana reached up and took his stubbled jaw in her hands, and instantly he felt a relief that only a water Druid could give another human with her touch. His aches and pains dissipated, his tense muscles relaxed, and the pricking of the headache that had begun to pound behind his eyes disappeared.
“Dear Malcolm,” she murmured softly. “When is the last time you slept?”
He blinked down into a face the feminine copy of his own. Unruly russet hair, pale skin, prominent jaw. Though hers was delicate, and his defined. Other than the obvious difference in their sexes, the only other thing that set them apart was the color of their eyes. Morgana’s were as blue as the ocean in summer, while his were a mossy green.
Elemental colors.
“Who can sleep with all these bloody Vikings invadingmycastle?” he groused.
Unruffled, Morgana patted his cheek. “They’re not invaders, dear, they’re allies.Guests. Two of whom are mated to your sister and cousin. So they’re family, as well.”
Malcolm grunted. “That damned army of Niall’s is picking our larder clean and planting bastards in all the kitchen maids.”
“They’ve also pledged their swords and lives to help us defeat the Wyrd Sisters,” she reminded brightly. “Now eat your supper, and I’ll give you the gift that will make your search easier.”
That arrested his attention. “What gift?”
The same mischief had lit her eyes for just over two decades now. Malcolm loved it, and he hated it. “Eat first,” she ordered.
Malcolm took a step toward her, towering head and shoulders above her. “I am not a child, I am your king,” he said darkly. “I command ye to give me what ye have.” No one had ever dared disobey him when he was in such a mood.
Morgana burst out laughing and lifted onto her toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “When has that ever worked on me?” she giggled. “Eat up.”
Nostrils flaring, Malcolm stabbed at a chunk of pork and brought it to his mouth, chewing furiously while holding out his hand to his sister.
“Your vegetables as well,” Morgana reminded him.
“Give it to me, or I’ll do ye violence,” he threatened. They both knew he wouldn’t. First, because he loved his sister and would never lay a hand on a woman, and second, because Baelsar Bloodborn, Morgana’s Berserker mate, would tear his limbs from his body and throw them in the tall grasses. Magick be damned.
With a gusty sigh, Morgana reached into her pocket and held up a piece of twine on the end of which the most perfect quartz crystal he’d ever seen reflected the light of the candles.
“Where did ye get that?” he breathed, snatching it away from her grasp.
“From a toad Bael and I met by the river.” Morgana shrugged. “And you’re welcome.”
“What were ye doing by the river?” Malcolm asked idly, running his fingers over the smooth, clear surface of the spear-shaped crystal. It fit in the palm of hand, and would be the most effective scrying tool of all time.
When he glanced up, Morgana’s eyes were sparkling with that mischief again, and also with a lasciviousness that caused his belly to lurch with disgust.
“That’s revolting,” he spat.
“I said nothing,” Morgana sang innocently, all but dancing toward the door.
“Ye didna have to,” he complained.
“Now if you don’t finish your supper by the time I return in an hour, I’ll have Bael tie you up and shove it down your throat.” With that cheerful threat, she closed the door to his workshop behind her.
“I’d like to see him try,” he muttered to no one in particular.
Dinner forgotten, Malcolm retrieved the most recent map of his kingdom and uncurled it across his table. He murmured a Gaelic scrying spell as he sprinkled powdered mugwort, nutmeg, cinnamon, and yarrow onto the map. Licking his fingers, he let the crystal dangle over it and circle in the direction of the earth’s rotation.
