Spell of the Highlander

Page 114

She glanced up at him sharply. There’d been a strange certainty in his voice when he’d said the last: It will come. As if he knew something she didn’t.
“But you said yesterday that you thought he would pass the tithe through the glass and go away,” she protested anxiously. “You said you thought he’d focus on finding the Dark Book before he would come back and try to take the mirror from the Keltar. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? To buy a little more time. Right?”
He stared down at her a long, pensive moment. “I’m but advising you to be on constant guard, lass. Constant,” he repeated. “Watch yourself. Doona let your defenses down for even a second. You’ve no way of knowing what might happen from one moment to the next. Remember that. Be prepared for anything. Anything.”
“You’re starting to worry me. What do you think—”
“Hush, lass,” he cut her off. “I must go. Time is short and we doona wish him to see me. He believes you act alone. He must continue to believe that. But doona fear, I will be watching over you.”
Halfway down the corridor, he turned back. “Constant guard, lass,” he hissed.
Jessi swallowed. She tensed her wrist, feeling the weight of the blade. “Constant guard, Dageus,” she echoed. “I promise.”
Twenty minutes to midnight.
Jessi shivered as she hurried down the corridor. Five days ago, when she’d promised Cian that she wouldn’t watch him die, she’d possessed great determination but little hope.
Later that night, however, her circumstances had changed drastically.
After the mirror had reclaimed Cian, she’d left the Silver Chamber and hastened to the library to open communications with Lucan. She’d been sitting at the computer, her inbox open, about to click on one of his E-mails, when Dageus had stepped from behind the drapes, catching her in the act. He’d told her he’d been in the library a few nights ago, and knew she’d been receiving E-mails from Trevayne.
As she’d gaped up at him, half expecting to be dragged off to some medieval dungeon for punishment, he’d further shocked her by saying, How bad do you want him to live, lass?
Figuring she had nothing left to lose at that point, she’d told him, in no uncertain terms. I’d do anything. Even make him hate me.
He won’t hate you, lass, Dageus had assured her. If aught, he’ll hate me.
She was counting on that. Not that he would hate Dageus, but that he would eventually forgive her for helping his enemy pass the tithe through to keep him alive.
I thought you said you didn’t know of any way to free him. Why would you do this?
Why would you? he’d countered.
Because I believe there has to be a way to get him out of there, that we just need a little more time to find it.
I believe there’s a way to get him out of there, too, lass, he’d replied after a brief pause.
Really? Her heart had soared at those words.
It was one thing for her to believe it; she was desperate enough to cling to any hope and she knew it. But if a Keltar Druid believed it, it was more than just possible, it was probable. No, it was an eventual certainty. There was no way Dageus and Drustan would run the risk of Trevayne ever getting the Dark Book, which meant they had to be convinced they could ultimately free Cian, and reasonably quickly after the tithe was paid.
It had been nearly impossible to conceal her change in spirits from Cian. Especially today—on what he’d thought was their last day together—but she’d managed. Dageus had been insistent she discuss their plans with no one, even going so far as to say he wouldn’t help her at all if she failed to convince Cian that she believed tonight was his last night alive. He believes ’tis the only way, lass, Dageus had warned, I fear he will become difficult if he suspects we plan to stop him.
Though acting the part had nearly killed her—thank God, she’d not had to actually live it!—she’d been convincing, unwilling to jeopardize her only chance to save him.
E-mail Trevayne, Dageus had instructed her that night. Tell him you’ll help him get in the castle to pass the tithe through. But the Keltar keep the mirror.
She’d done it. At first Trevayne had refused, offering myriad alternatives, all of which she’d rejected at Dageus’s behest.
But late last night, twenty-four hours from the zero-hour to the minute, Trevayne had finally agreed.
And now—Jessi paused at the back door, inhaling sharply—he was here. Making her skin crawl. She could feel him through the wood of the door, cold, dark, rotten, and much, much too close for comfort.