arm almost useless. Sonya used magic daily to try and help his recovery, but he had long since stopped getting better.
Malcolm’s discontent had grown each day. Despite his useless right arm, he was still able to wield a sword with his left as he had proven when he and Camdyn sparred. But Malcolm called himself worthless.
Cara could understand. She was a Druid who could help the herbs in her garden grow and aid Sonya in her healing but could do nothing else. Sonya worked with Cara on the spells all Druids should know.
Yet nothing Cara did worked. Even growing up alone in the nunnery she had never felt so lonely as she did at that moment.
The sound of boots on the stones drew her attention, and she looked up to find Malcolm. He stopped beside her and sighed.
“They will return,” he said.
Cara stared at the man who was next in line to be laird of the Monroe clan. “Do you say that to ease my mind or your own?”
Malcolm snorted and rubbed his right shoulder where the constant pain never left him. The Warriors who had beaten him had ripped his arm from his socket, tearing muscle and tendons in the process. “For both of us, I think. I’ve seen Larena battle and know she is capable of defending herself.”
“She is your cousin.”
“And my friend. I know Fallon will watch her, but I canna help but worry.”
“Fallon would die before he let anything happen to his wife.”
Malcolm scratched his jaw where a shadow of a beard grew. “I’ve never liked being left behind.”
“They have powers neither of us have. We would only be in their way.”
“Ah, but you are a Druid, Cara. You have magic.”
She reached up to touch the Demon’s Kiss around her neck. The small vial held her mother’s blood, blood given in the
“Sometimes I wonder, Malcolm.”
“Do you feel your magic?”
“I…” She looked down at her hands, hands she had felt her magic pulse through into the seeds she had planted. “Aye.”
“Then you are a Druid. Doona doubt yourself. Lucan doesn’t.”
She smiled and turned to Malcolm. “And what of you?”
“What about me?”
“Will you allow Sonya to continue her magic on your arm?”
Malcolm frowned and turned his face away. “She is wasting her healing on me. I knew my arm would never work again the moment I felt it wrenched from its socket. They broke every bone in my hand, Cara. It’s not just using my arm, but my hand as well. Most of the time I don’t even feel my fingers.”
“I didn’t know.”
He signed and shook his head. “You couldn’t have. I asked Sonya not to tell anyone. Larena was so worried about me I feared she wouldn’t go with Fallon, and they need her to rescue Quinn.”
Cara returned her gaze to the distant mountains. “God help Deirdre if Lucan doesn’t return to me.”
“Aye,” Malcolm murmured. “God help her.”
Eighteen
Broc flew high above the trees, soaring with the clouds. Thanks to Poraxus, the god inside him, he had the eyes of a falcon to go along with his wings. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the wind and sun.
Below him wyrran ran though the countryside like a quick-moving army. Broc tried to keep them as far away from villages and homes as he could. Superstition ran high in the Highlands, so if anyone saw the small yellow creatures, they would attribute them to one of the many demons they claimed roamed the land.
Broc opened his eyes to look ahead of him where Fallon and Lucan MacLeod were. His power to be able to track anyone anywhere had allowed him to find the MacLeods easily enough. He hadn’t expected to find they had split into two groups, though.
With a wave of his hand Broc sent half the wyrran in one direction while the other half stayed with him. His silent command would push the MacLeods back into one group, as he needed them.
Broc whistled down at the remaining wyrran, telling them to halt and wait for him. He folded his smooth wings behind him and dove to the ground. Just before he hit the trees, he spread his wings and glided atop them.
With his keen eyesight he spotted Ramsey well before his old friend saw him. Ramsey’s black head jerked up and their gazes clashed.
Broc flew up and back around to land in a small clearing in the forest where the MacLeods and their group traveled. Broc folded his wings behind him once his feet touched the earth and paused.
He need only wait for the wyrran to push Lucan and his group together with Fallon and the others. The wyrran wouldn’t attack until Broc gave the signal.
Lucan was the first to break through the trees. His green eyes narrowed on Broc as Ramsey, Hayden, and Logan moved to either side of Lucan.
“Broc,” Ramsey said.
Broc shifted his gaze to the man he had come to call his friend. They had made a decision while both were locked in Deirdre’s prison that one would escape and the other would spy. Ramsey had gotten out. Broc was supposed to spy. But that had been over a hundred years ago. Many things had changed.
Before Broc could answer, Fallon, Larena, and Galen emerged into the clearing. Fallon glanced at his brother before stalking to Broc.
“What is going on?” Fallon demanded.
Broc raised a brow. Had he ever gotten so angry? Made decisions as rashly as the MacLeods? He couldn’t remember, and it really didn’t matter.
“You are surrounded by wyrran,” Broc said.
Lucan transformed into a Warrior in a blink. “You came to tell us that? We’ve been battling those nasty creatures for days now.”
Broc looked from Fallon and Lucan to Ramsey. He was going to have to choose a side sooner rather than later. When, though, was the question.
“Deirdre has captured a Druid who holds the spell to bind our gods deep in her mind,” he told the small group.
Larena gasped. Logan cursed and Hayden just stared.
“Is the Druid dead?” Fallon asked.
“Nay,” Broc answered. “For some reason Deirdre didn’t kill her. Instead, she threw the Druid into the Pit. Where Quinn is being held. Deirdre wanted the Warriors in the Pit to kill Marcail.”
“Ah, hell,” Lucan mumbled as he ran a hand down his face. “So the Druid is dead.”
“Deirdre thinks so.”
Ramsey took a step toward him, his gray eyes intense as they stared at Broc. “But you do not?”
“Nay.”
“Why are you telling us this?” Fallon asked.
Broc debated on what to tell the brothers. “Quinn took over the Pit the first day Deirdre threw him down there. The more he proves his strength, the more she wants him. She’s no longer content to wait for Quinn to break.”
“That’s why you’re here,” Ramsey guessed. “She wants you to capture us.”
Hayden growled, his skin turning the red of his god. “I’ll die before I allow her to hold me prisoner
