Book 2 > Spellbound Hearts
1265
The Dark Woods, Dunvegan Castle
Isle of Skye, Scotland
Rule one of stealing from witches in the Highlands: Do nae forget to watch yer back.
If I could have gone back to the moment Freya asked me to help her pilfer Morgana’s magical goblet, I would’ve still agreed to do it. In the balance of things, my desire to destroy the Campbells was far greater than my fear of the repercussions of my actions. Though, presently, the thievery looked as if it might get me killed at worst or cursed at best.
My heart hammered as I stood there, waiting for the witch to turn her rage and power toward me. I wanted to run to save myself, but Katreine, Muireall, Freya, and I were all frozen under the witch Morgana’s spell. All I could do was stand here helpless as the witch faced Freya, turning the wish Freya had made while drinking from the goblet into a terrible curse.
My feet felt encased in ice, but still my thoughts raced as fast as my destrier when I pushed him to his limits. One thought was ahead of all the others, one voice breaking through the panic: my mama’s. I didn’t remember a lot about her, but I often heard her voice in my head when I was getting into mischief, and it was loud and clear right now.
My rules are here to protect ye, Elena.
The soft yet sharp tone was a combination of her love for me intertwined with her ever-present primal fear for my safety. If she were alive, she’d be beside herself right now, wringing her hands and chewing her lip.
My heart was lodged in my throat, and my blood thrummed in my neck. I cut my glance sideways to see if things were as grave as I thought they were or if I was just letting myself get tied in knots over nothing.
Morgana had appeared behind us, cradling her mother in her arms, while we were drinking from the chalice at the edge of the Fairy Pool. The witch’s mama began to float in the air as Morgana turned her wrath on Freya. Why we had not thought to have one of us keep watch for someone approaching as we drank from the goblet, I could nae say, but the mistake had gotten us caught. I was nearly certain Morgana’s mama was dead based on the way her head lolled back unnaturally, as did her eyes that stared at nothing. The white foam bubbling from her lips did not speak to a healthy, live witch. I could also still see flashes of the bloody footprints from the cave floor where Freya and I had snuck in and stolen the magical goblet earlier while Elena and Murieall had looked out for Morgana and her mama.
I had no idea how much time had passed since the four of us had made our way from the witch’s cave to the Fairy Pool where we’d dipped the goblet into the waters and each drank from it to make our wishes, but sunlight now streamed in through the thick canopy of trees gnarled overhead, telling me that night had passed. Gone were the dark shadows but not the dangers.
“Ye are intruders,” Morgana hissed, her voice cold and exact. “Ye took what was nae yers to take, and in so doing, ye took my mama’s life.”
Things were most certainly as dire as I thought.
“We only wanted—” Murieall began.
“I ken what ye wanted,” Morgana thundered, making all the color in Muireall’s face disappear and a line of blood appear on her lip as if she’d chewed it raw.
If I’d been able to move, my lips would have parted in shock. Morgana’s breath slivered white from her mouth as she stood in front of Freya.
“Ye want magic?” she demanded of Freya. I knew she would soon be asking the same question of me. My heart beat harder than I thought possible, and with each thud, it felt like the inside of my chest was being pummeled.
“I’ll give ye magic!” the witch shouted, the ominous tone of her voice like her nail sliding over the ridge of my spine. Inwardly, I curled my back, though outwardly I still could not move. Suddenly, the goblet flew from Murieall’s hand, as she’d still been holding it when Morgana had appeared in the woods. Freya’s hand seemed to open without her controlling it, and then her fingers closed around the goblet as it rose to her lips and tilted upward.
“Drink from the goblet, Freya, and taste the magic,” Morgana growled.
I could see Freya rapidly swallowing as her eyes grew wide, and then she started coughing until her hand lowered the goblet once more. I stared at Morgana’s back, fear twisting within me for Freya, for myself, and for Murieall who stood as still as I did and looked every bit as frightened as I felt, with their wide eyes and pale faces.
Morgana raised a bony finger to Freya’s cheek and ran the tip of her nail down Freya’s face. A line of blood appeared, contrasting brightly against Freya’s porcelain skin. “Freya MacLeod, ye wished to see yer future so ye could manipulate it to be able to marry for love and ken the man ye wed loved ye in return.”
Fear swirled within me like winds growing in strength and readying to destroy everything in their path. How had the witch known Freya’s secret wish? Freya had not spoken it aloud. I knew it, as did Murieall and Katreine, because best friends share secrets and worries and foolish schemes, but Morgana had not been with us at the edge of the Dark Woods when Freya had told us why she wanted to steal the magical goblet. It was then that we had all revealed our own wishes.
Questions peppered my mind like rocks being thrown into deep water. Why had I agreed to venture into the Dark Woods? I knew well these woods, this witch, was no myth, but rather a legend made so by her deeds. I had known better than to venture in here, and yet I’d agreed and I’d come, driven forward by my burning need for vengeance.
Did Morgana somehow know my wish as well? The mere notion made my skin prickle.
“I give to ye the gift of sight,” Morgana whispered to Freya. The hiss of her words, like a serpent sound, was no gift. Freya’s lips parted, and I watched as white smoke slithered into her mouth. Suddenly, her right hand flew to her throat as if she were choking. “Ye will see things afore they occur. And ye will have the power to manipulate futures. But nae yer own. Yer greatest wish will be yer greatest misfortune.”
On those ominous words, Morgana twisted around, goblet in hand, and her glowing eyes impaled me. Wind suddenly blew from the east, and had I been able to move, I would have shivered with the cold bite of air blowing over me. Morgana floated across the space, stopping in front of me and flicking her hand upward. The sunlight from above disappeared as the goblet flew into my hand and my fingers closed around it, exactly as Freya’s had done. Silence descended and darkness with it, reminding me of the eerie moment before a terrible storm hit. Then a whisper rose, but it was not from any of us. It was as if the forest itself was sending a warning, but it was far too late.
My hand jerked upward the with goblet still clutched in it, and it tilted, my lips parted, and cool liquid slid down my throat. “Elena Gordon, ye wished to read people’s minds so ye could aid yer stepbrother in destroying the Campbell clan.” I couldn’t answer. I was choking on the liquid rushing down my throat, and terror clutched my tongue. A tingling sensation swept over my body, pricking me everywhere.
The flow of the liquid stopped, my hand jerked downward, and Morgana’s gaze bore into me, making me feel as if she had stripped me to the bone, that she knew my heart was half-rotted with hate for the Campbells.
“Ye wished to read minds, and so ye shall. The truths ye find will turn to thorns in yer heart. For ken this, every gift is a burden, and power draws its own cruel reckoning.”
My body still didn’t move, but my thoughts rushed like a river. I’d never been so close to a ban-druidh in my life. I’d been coming to Freya’s family’s Samhain festival every winter since I was eight summers, and I had never once seen Morgana or her mother. Of course, I’d heard tales, but the whispers had been wrong. Morgana was not old, not hunched, not covered in boils. She was tall, her skin so pale it was almost blue, her hair silver and fine, her gown stitched from a hundred different velvets and furs. Her eyes, though… Her eyes were inhuman, lambent purple and glowing, and they sharpened like a serrated dagger she was about to wield to slice into my skull and pluck out my secrets.
She tilted her head, birdlike, and everything around me seemed to freeze in place, even the wind. “Why do ye hate Laird Campbell?” she asked.
The truth spilled from my lips even as I tried to keep it in, fearful of how the witch would use it against me. “His da poisoned my da, my brother, and my uncle six summers ago. My family went to the chapel to wed my brother, Fergus, to Laird Campbell’s daughter in good faith, to bring an end to the warring for lands between our clans, and they broke that faith.”
My fists clenched by my side, and my body trembled. I could move again.
“I do nae ken the truth of who poisoned whom,” Morgana said, “but yer family got vengeance. Yer stepbrother had men kill Laird Campbell and his wife. The debt is paid.”
I shook my head, my anger swelling. “Nay. The debt will nae be paid until the Campbells are destroyed.” Even if I had thought the debt were paid, the Campbells had not left us alone. Ross Campbell had taken up the lairdship after his da’s death, and he had commenced attacking our clan once more. Except the man was even worse than his da had been. Ross Campbell did not simply raid the lands that stood between our two clan’s homes; he was trying to take our land, little by little.
“The Campbells must be stopped,” I said. “They must pay for past ill deeds and the current ones.”
Morgana’s smile was slow and terrible, and her eyes pinned me in place, peeling back layers of my soul. “So much desire for vengeance has made ye a fool, but ye will soon discover wishes rot faster than corpses, and the truth is seldom sweet.”
I opened my mouth to argue but dizziness hit me, and before I knew it, blackness swept over me and I felt myself falling.
