Suddenly, Odara let out a strangled cry, her hand over her heart. Reaghan rushed to the elder. “What is it? Odara, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Let me,” Sonya said, and laid a gentle hand on Reaghan’s shoulder.
Reaghan hurried to move out of the way and allow Sonya room. Odara’s face began to turn red as she struggled to take in a breath.
“It’s her heart,” Sonya said.
Reaghan saw uncertainty in Sonya’s amber gaze and that gave her pause. It was almost as if the Druid were afraid. Reaghan didn’t understand. From what she had been told, Sonya’s healing magic was very powerful. Surely she could help Odara.
“What is it, Sonya?” Cara asked as she and Marcail came near.
After a moment Sonya shook her head. “We must hurry. Odara’s heart is giving out.”
“Nay,” Reaghan whispered as she met Odara’s frightened green gaze.
The three Druids held their hands, palms down and fingers outstretched, over Odara. After a heartbeat, Reaghan joined her hands with theirs. She prayed her magic would join in and help Odara. Reaghan felt the magic rush from her to mix with that of the others. It moved around the small chamber and into the elder. It didn’t take long for Odara’s raspy breaths to even out, and her eyes closed as if she rested.
Reaghan thought everything was going to be fine until Marcail winced and said, “Reaghan. We need more of your magic. We’re losing Odara.”
She didn’t argue, just focused on more of the magic inside her. Reaghan called to her magic, begging it to rise stronger within her.
Her breath locked in her chest when her magic answered. Its commanding strength surged through her and then out of her hands and into Odara.
Reaghan’s body began to hum as the magic filled every pore. Time slowed, held no meaning, as she heard a soft chanting in her head. The words were ancient. They were words she knew and recognized.
There was so much magic filling Reaghan that it felt as if her skin would burst from it. She wanted to bask in it, to revel in the pure joy it brought her.
And somewhere in the soothing chant of voices in her mind she heard her name. She concentrated, seeking the source. It took what felt like hours before the sound of her name grew stronger as her mind latched on to it.
It was a deep voice, a male voice. Tears filled her eyes as she realized it was her father’s voice. His words were like a blur as they penetrated her mind. She didn’t understand what he was saying. The more she tried to slow his words to understand them, the faster he spoke.
Until he — and the chanting — was gone.
Reaghan opened her eyes and looked at the elder. Odara took a deep breath and everyone relaxed, her face once more peaceful. Reaghan waited until Sonya dropped her hands before she did the same.
“Thank you,” Reaghan said.
Sonya smiled, but the sadness in her eyes stunned Reaghan. “Nay, thank you. Without your magic, I fear she would be gone.”
“Rest, Reaghan,” Cara said. “I will watch over Odara.”
Marcail tucked a blanket around Odara and looked at Sonya. “Is everything all right?”
“Aye. I’m just worried for my sister,” Sonya said.
But Sonya had been looking at Reaghan when she spoke. Reaghan sensed the lie for what it was. She kept it to herself as she resumed her seat against the wall. Her mind was filled with the knowledge that she did have magic, great magic.
It had felt good to have it flow through her. As joyous as it was, she wanted to sort through the jumble of words her father had somehow sent her.
Reaghan buried her face in her hands as the sounds of the battle filled the dungeon. Her ears rang with the shouts from the men and the roars of the Warriors. She thought of Galen and prayed he would survive and stay out of Deirdre’s reach.
To help turn her mind from thoughts of Galen being captured, Reaghan closed her eyes. Moment by moment the sounds around her faded as she delved deeper into her mind, searching for the message from her father. She sensed it was important, sensed she needed to decipher it quickly.
His message seemed to be in some kind of code, one in which Reaghan didn’t know how to break. But she wasn’t going to give up. All the answers she needed were in her mind. If anyone could break through the spell, it had to be her.
She nearly screamed with jubilation when a few of her father’s words became clear to her. Other words were still jumbled, almost as if they weren’t meant to be understood.
Her stomach fell to her feet when her mind translated words which spoke of the spell. But what about it? Was he giving her a clue to breaking it?
Reaghan didn’t know how long she had sat, lost in her thoughts, when she heard a soft creak. It brought her out of her musing. She opened her eyes and saw Odara still asleep, and Cara and Marcail resting beside her. Sonya had her legs to her chest once more with her forehead resting on her knees. But it wasn’t until Reaghan looked at Fiona’s sleeping form that she realized Braden wasn’t in the chamber.
Reaghan rose and walked to the entry. The door was open only a crack, not wide enough for any of them to get through.
But wide enough for a wyrran. Or a small boy.
Reaghan didn’t hesitate. She threw open the door and yelled for Braden as she raced down the long corridor.
Only a few torches were lit, casting dark shadows everywhere, but Reaghan never stopped. She raced up the stairs to the great hall and skidded to a halt in front of Larena.
Larena stood with her feet braced apart, her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”
“Braden,” Reaghan said as she tried to breathe. “He’s gone. I think he went to help the Warriors.”
“By the saints,” Larena cursed, her face going white. “I’ll go look for him.”
Reaghan grabbed Larena’s arm. “Nay. You must guard the others. I’ll look for Braden.”
Larena’s lips thinned in displeasure. “Hurry back.”
“I will.”
Reaghan hoped it was a promise she could keep. Already she had broken her pledge to Galen to stay in the dungeon, but she couldn’t let Braden get caught in the fighting. He was but a lad who knew nothing of battle or weapons.
She ran into the bailey and looked to the battlements, but she didn’t see Braden amid the Warriors battling wyrran. Her ears throbbed with the deafening roars and piercing shrieks.
The MacLeods stood as one, fighting side by side and slaughtering wyrran who climbed the castle wall. Among the Warriors she glimpsed, there was no green-skinned one.
Reaghan was about to return to the castle when she saw the postern door unbolted.
“Nay, Braden,” she whispered in torment.
But even as she prayed the boy wouldn’t leave the castle, she knew he had. The sounds of the battle were thunderous, more terrifying now that she was in the thick of it.
Reaghan took a deep breath and stepped through the postern door. She came to an immediate stop as she saw the sheer mass of MacClures and wyrran. Among them were Druids who were trying desperately to reach the castle.
Broc swooped down from the sky and lifted two of the Druids to fly to the castle. The wyrran had cornered a small group of Druids, most likely for Deirdre, but the MacClures were killing any Druid they saw.
And then she saw the red cloak.
Reaghan’s heart pounded so loudly she feared it would jump from her chest. Dunmore, the man from the loch, the man who wanted to take her. Reaghan couldn’t allow him to see her.
She framed her back against the castle wall and slowly sidestepped so she could look for Braden and not bring notice to herself. He would be difficult to see amid the battle, but she had to find him.
Reaghan drew in a ragged, broken breath when she caught sight of Galen. He was fighting without his shirt, his dark green skin splotched with blood. But it was the violence in which he fought, the utter strength and power
