Tristan Prince was one of those boys.
With my eyes still closed, I folded my arms resolutely over my chest.
A party? I wasn’t sure.
I didn’t even know if I wanted to know these people more, seeing I was only going to leave them. I’d learned a long time ago not to grow attached because I never knew where I was going to be next, or how long I had in one place.
This, my trip to Scotland, was supposed to be different. But it wasn’t. It was another endless cycle in the life I knew.
Exhaustion tugged on my eyelids and I tried to fight it off. I didn’t want to sleep; it was only about five o’clock. I blinked and stretched. I wished I had my phone, so I could do something that didn’t involve staring at ancient brick walls. Of course, there were books I’d picked up through my lessons. A history book on Celts sat on the top of the pile. I sat and crossed my legs. Better to read a history book than to fall asleep again at five. I’d never make it to the social gathering.
I flicked the pages waiting for something to jump out and grab my attention. It all looked pretty wild and savage. An echo from the horn blown in my morning dream seeped back into my memory and I glanced at the window sure I’d been called. What the hell? There was someone out there? A girl. Was she crazy? With my mouth open, I clambered onto my knees and walked towards it. The handle was stiff again, and I yanked hard, pushing as it squeaked. “Hey,” I called when the window was open. Rain splattered on my face. Almost horizontal sheets, the rain was unlike anything I’d seen. “You’re going to catch your death out there.” I squinted through the mist. The girl stood off in the distance, her white dress catching in the wild wind. Red strands of hair streaming behind her.
“Bloody hell.” I turned and looked back into my room. Should I go out there and check she was okay? Could I even make my way outside without getting miserably lost down dark hallways? I turned again to check how far away she was. Maybe I could shout louder?
There was no one there.
“Strange,” I muttered, pulling on the window and wiping the rain droplets away with my palm. I could have sworn there was someone standing out there in the torrential downpour.
Now I was wet. And cold. And miserable. I fell onto my back, pushing the Celtic book onto the floor. I thought of going to find Phil, see if she wanted to hang out for a while. But I was cold and cross, so I rolled myself in the blanket and shut my eyes. Maybe sleep would help my mood. Maybe I was still jet lagged? Or maybe it was Fire Stone and the fact I wasn’t supposed to be here…?
5
Caledonia
I knelt on the floor crushing herbs. They seeped and stewed, filling the air with hints of sweetness which mingled with the earthy tones, and unfortunate stench of stomach bile.
The festival had been a success. Casting my eyes around the settlement I allowed myself a small grin. The festival had been too much of a success for some.
“Deacon, you suffer?” My voice was far louder than necessary, and I chuckled as he clutched his head, falling onto a wooden stool by my side.
“Priestess, you tease.” He winced instead of smiling and pushed his greasy blonde hair back from his eyes.
“Father’s mead is potent, I don’t know when you will all realise.” I nudged my knuckles against his knee, bashing him gently with humour.
“Next time I’ll realise, it’s a promise.” He stopped talking and spent a couple of moments groaning, with his skin tingeing green. “Help me please, Mae, I’ve got to re-thatch two hut roofs today. I don’t want to be climbing feeling as sickly as I am.”
I smiled and stirred the herbs in the pot as I simmered them over a low flame. “Here, lean over the steam and breathe it in.”
Deacon’s sleep smudged face crumpled, and he rubbed at his brow. “Inhale the steam? Are you sure?”
“Yes, try it. I promise it will help.”
He shook his head and then cringed when he realised it hurt far more than keeping still. “What will you folk think of next?”
I stifled another light laugh and pulled him forward so that his face drifted in the light steam curling the air. “We shall think of lots of things to make you feel better when you’ve overindulged.”
I watched closely, waiting to see if my concoction worked the way I expected it to. Herb lore was the only part of my training I enjoyed—if I could get it right, it would make it much more worthwhile. As if by magic, the spearmint and camomile worked, clearing his head with clarifying mint and soothing yellow flowers. Eventually, his colour returned to almost normal. His body relaxed, the creases on his youthful forehead smoothing as his headache lessened.
“I haven’t seen Tristram this break of fast.” I kept my voice light and nonchalant. It didn’t stop him cracking open an eye and smirking.
“Do you intend to ease his headache too?”
I narrowed my eyes. “No, I believe he can suffer.”
Deacon chortled to himself, no longer clutching his head with the movement. “You care for him really.”
“That giant oaf? Sadly, it’s my job to care, but I shan’t ease his suffering if he allows himself to get into such a state as last night.”
Tristram had celebrated the capture of the deer and the feast we were able to provide a little too well. I eyed his father’s large round house. There had been no movement. Either he was truly feeling dire or…
I straightened and smoothed my skirts leaving Deacon to benefit from my herbal concoction. Taking a roundabout way along the outer edge of the settlement,
