His wound healed before the goblet could fill completely with blood, but Isla refused to slice him again. She was already going to be punished. What was a little more?
Isla set aside the goblet and dagger near the entrance of his prison and faced Phelan. Deirdre had told her to talk to him, so she would. If only Isla could remove his chains or go back and change the past.
“Deirdre is an evil Druid called a
Phelan clenched his jaw. “Is no one fighting against her?”
She opened her mouth to tell him of the MacLeods, but that would give him hope, a hope he couldn’t have. “Some are trying, but it is futile.”
“There are others…like me, aren’t there?”
She nodded. “You’ve seen a few who have come down here.”
“I’ve seen one. His skin is royal blue.”
“That’s William. He will do anything for Deirdre.”
Phelan rolled his shoulders and shifted his feet as he took her words in. “The other Warriors, are they like me?”
Isla leaned against the rock wall and shrugged. “In a way. All Warriors change as you have. Each of you is a different color because of each god within you. The Warriors not on Deirdre’s side only allow their god to show when they are fighting her. How is it you don’t know this after all these years?”
“I didn’t ask, and no one spoke of it.”
If Isla had felt awful before speaking with him, she felt worse now. She had intentionally kept her distance from him because seeing him always made her remember the day he had gone from looking at her as a friend, to being chained and glaring at her with murder in his eyes.
“There are things you need to know,” she said. “Each Warrior holds a different power depending on their god.”
As soon as the words left her mouth the dark, gloomy chamber disappeared and she was surrounded by sunlight. She stood on the side of a hill, the tall grass swaying in the wind, and the smell of heather and thistle filled her senses. Her gaze drifted upward to see a cloudless bright blue sky as the sun warmed her.
She knew that somehow Phelan had done this. She didn’t know how, and she was enjoying it too much to question him.
“Can other Warriors do this?” he asked.
She turned her head and blinked. Gone were the chains that held him. Gone were the gold skin, fangs, and claws of his Warrior form. She saw a glimpse of the lad he had been in the hazel eyes that watched her.
The man that stood before her with dark hair that hung past his shoulders was so handsome she couldn’t look at him. His body was lean and well-developed. She could see the definition of his muscles in his upper body, and though he wasn’t as muscular as some of the Warriors, she could sense the strength within him.
“How are you doing this?” she asked.
“This,” he said and held out his arms, “is my power.”
Isla closed her eyes. “Please stop.”
“Why? Do you prefer the darkness?”
She preferred the sunlight, and being in it for even small amounts of time made her long for it more and more. “I’m begging you,” she pleaded.
“Open your eyes, Isla.”
When she dared to peek, the darkness once more surrounded her. She blew out a shaky breath, not realizing until her fingers began to ache that she gripped the rocks behind her.
“So, each Warrior has a different power,” Phelan said. “How many are there?”
“There are many. Some have sided with Deirdre. The ones that are holding out against her are being held in dungeons.”
Phelan smiled, revealing his fangs. “But not all are held here, are they? There are some who have managed to escape and elude Deirdre and her wyrran.”
It was true, and though she didn’t wish to lie to him, she wasn’t sure she could tell him the truth.
“Your silence is answer enough,” he said. “Why do you pledge yourself to Deirdre?”
“Because I have no choice.”
“There is always a choice.”
Isla laughed and shook her head. “If only things were that easy. I suspect you will begin to receive more visitors soon. Watch yourself, Phelan. Deirdre has plans to use you in her scheme to dominate the world.”
She retrieved the goblet and dagger and walked to the stairs.
“Guard yourself as well,” Phelan called after her.
Sixteen
Quinn knew he was in trouble when he woke up and couldn’t stop looking at Marcail. He had managed to rise without waking her, but now, all he could do was stand and look at her while images of their night together replayed in his head.
How he wished he had met her differently, but he realized, as the man he was before, he wouldn’t have given in to the desire to have her. He had changed since being captured, changed in ways he thought he never would.
He still missed his son, but he had come to understand that bad things happen to innocents. Even if his son had somehow survived, Quinn wouldn’t have stayed near him for fear of hurting him.
The need for vengeance for his son’s and wife’s deaths had not left Quinn, however. He would kill Deirdre, or die trying.
A muted curse made Quinn turn away from Marcail’s sleeping form to find Duncan leaning an arm against the wall while the other held his stomach.
Quinn went to his friend. “Duncan? What is it?”
“Not feeling well,” the Warrior ground out.
Quinn knew he lied. “Were you attacked last night?”
“Nay,” Duncan said with a brittle laugh.
“Then what is it?”
Duncan turned his pale blue Warrior eyes on Quinn. “Nothing I canna handle.”
Quinn inclined his head and turned on his heel to find Arran on the other side of the entrance. He walked to the white Warrior who stood with his arms crossed over his chest watching Duncan.
“He’s not well,” Arran said when Quinn reached him.
“Nay, he isna, but he willna tell me what’s wrong.”
Arran rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I doona like this situation.”
“I’ve never liked it. I have promised Duncan I will set things right, and I will. I need something from you, though.”
Arran snorted and shook his head angrily. “I willna bother arguing with you again but know that I think you handing yourself to Deirdre is horseshite. I’ve already promised to take care of Marcail.”
“Aye, and I appreciate it. However, this is more important.”
That got Arran’s attention. He narrowed his eyes and took a step closer to Quinn. “What is it?”
“I have no doubt Lucan and Fallon will eventually come. No matter what I say, no matter what I do to them, you must leave whenever they escape, because they will escape. I will see to that. Take as many Warriors as you can, but you follow my brothers.”
“I’d rather have you at my side.”
Quinn wanted to be there, but Broc had been right, his time had run out. “Tell my brothers…”
“I will,” Arran promised. “I will tell them everything.”
