Duncan sat on the rocks long after Eglantine’s tale ended and watched the moon rise high. Far behind him, her camp slumbered. Far ahead of him, the broch was a shadow against the blackness of the night, his own company slumbering there.
A thousand stars were scattered across the sky, looking close enough to be plucked. The dark waves lapped at his feet, lulling him with their rhythm.
’Twas a night made for magic, a night upon which any dream might come true. He watched a star shoot across the heavens, wondering what wish he should make, and knew it involved Eglantine and her fur-lined cloak.
And her teeth against his flesh.
Duncan had long believed that Mhairi haunted him, but Cormac’s lost daughter could not come close to Eglantine’s power to torment. He had never met a woman who blaz
