Donnan nodded.
“She saw others for me too. Nannie and the Morays— Don’t worry, they’re alright.” She twisted her cloak in her fingers. “Rorie and Finola are together. A couple.”
Donnan became still. “Ah.”
“Which is good, of course. It’s good for them. I should have realised . . .”
Donnan hesitated, then put his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s alright,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
She was the first to wake that morning. Mairi and Donnan were still deeply asleep, though Donnan made faint, unintelligible sounds, his head jerking slightly, his hand twitching. Hoping his dark dreams were not returning, she almost went over to wake him but then decided to let him sleep on. It was still early and he needed rest, as did Mairi. Her own dreams were past recall but she was left with the odd feeling of having dreamt them before. She got up, drawing a deep breath of fresh, dewy air which smelt of earth and green growing things.
Goosebumps rose on her arms as she stepped out from the shelter. In the morning light, she recognised the rocks and the rise and fall of the land and knew she’d been here with her father. She remembered questioning her choices at that time. She thought of the stag she’d watched heading in the direction of Braddon. She recalled what she’d sensed here all that time ago and she felt it again now. Magic.
Perhaps her increased skill with Fire magic meant she could better sense the energy which tingled against the skin of her hands and neck. Maybe her time living with Air magic had enabled her to hear it, a barely audible hum stretching through the air. It occurred to her that perhaps no one could feel it as she did, unless another had both Air and Fire as well. The feeling and sound of magic drew her on and, as she reached the crest of a hill, she saw it - the Crown of Dead Kings.
A dozen towering, charcoal-grey stones rose up from the earth in a great circle. Four of them were shorter, the heights of tall men. These indicated north and south, east and west, though legend stated that they gave other kinds of direction. These stones were said to have been ancient kings once, leaders of the mightiest clanlands who had gathered to wage war against magical beings but the leader of magical beings had turned them to stone.
‘The King’s Footing’ was the name of the low rock in the centre. When a monarch stood there to be crowned, it was said that the spirits of the great kings of the past returned to witness their accession to power and, if they approved of them, to intercede between earth and the heavens to bless their rule. Or, if they disapproved of them, to curse it.
When she was a child, Morwena had told her that, one day, Princess Rhona would stand there and be named Queen of Dalrath. The idea had thrilled her then but it was only when she was older that she thought about how Rhona would have to suffer the terrible loss of her father before she could achieve her great destiny. Yet now, at the age of twenty-three, Rhona had neither father nor kingdom. Perhaps she would be required to sacrifice more before she could claim the birthright fate had handed her. However, perhaps believing in destiny at all only led to disappointment.
The magic she sensed was a barely audible song drawing her to the Crown of Dead Kings. Her skin prickled as she walked between two looming rocks. She had the feeling that they were watching her. Three whispers came to her mind, as the names of Fiadhain had before now.
Air, she thought – and a wind swirled around her, cold cutting at her skin through the fabric of her clothes. She half expected to see an Annisith before her but there was no one else there. The wind died down until it only stirred feebly around a clump of long grass at the foot of one of the king stones.
Earth – and her feet tingled with vibrations that shook through the ground, coming from the base of another of the king stones.
She hesitated before reaching for the last name, then braced herself as she let it fill her mind. Fire – and she was pulled around to face a third king stone. She raised her arm, her hand held out towards the ground. A crackling bolt of light flashed between her palm and the earth. Whether it had come from her or the ground, she couldn’t tell, she simply stood there, motionless, her heart thundering in her chest.
She was almost certain of what she’d discovered. From her belt, she pulled the witch hunter’s knife and walked to the place where the light had met the ground. She ran her palm over the scratchy grass, pausing when her skin grew hot. She snatched her hand away, then began to dig into the dirt with the knife.
“I wouldn’t start there if I were you.” Tam sat cross-legged behind her.
“Did you see—?”
“I saw,” he said with a glint in his eyes.
“The other elemental stones . . .”
Tam nodded. “Start with the Earth stone. Then you can use its power to retrieve the other two.”
She approached the rock which had a patch of lush, purple heather growing before it. It was hard work cutting away through the earth tangled with tough roots and prising away stones. After a few minutes, she tossed the knife onto the ground and dug with her
