Spell of the Highlander

Page 121

Ah, yes, this Druid had power beyond any other.
“What is it, Cian?” Drustan said, glancing over his shoulder in the direction Cian was looking. “Is aught amiss? Do you see something, kinsman?”
Aoibheal stared at the Highlander, her lips tightening. She smoothed them again. Waited for him to betray her presence.
No, no, no, it was not time yet—it could too drastically alter things—it could destroy what chance they had!
She’d attained a tenuous balance of possibles at best. She needed more time.
She held his gaze, used her human eyes to convey a mute plea. Say nothing, Keltar-mine.
The ninth-century Highlander regarded her silently. After a moment he inclined his head in the barest nod, then turned and glanced at Drustan.
“Nay,” he said. “‘Tis nothing, Drustan. Nothing at all.”