“God’s blood,” he muttered, just then remembering that they’d left Marjorie by the rocks marking the border of the Furquart land with only the horses and her dagger. “We have to go fetch Marjorie,” he said, turning. He expected Ada to follow him, but for a small lass, she was surprisingly good at digging in her heels. She did not budge. Oh, he could have moved her with force, but he did not wish to do that to her unless she became too stubborn.
“Did Marjorie come willingly?”
The way Ada phrased the question made William think she’d known about Marjorie and Bram. “She came willingly. Did ye ken about my brother and yer stepsister?”
“I had my suspicions, but Marjorie only confirmed them the day of the tournament. I’m glad to discover her love for Bram is true and deep enough to risk Brothwell’s wrath. Hopefully yer brother feels the same way.”
“We will nae ken until we rescue Bram, so come—” He tugged her a little, but she shook her head at him.
“Ye still need to explain how ye kenned my gift dunnae have the power the fae intended, though I suspect they simply bumbled it.” She did not look overly surprised with his revelation.
“What alerted ye that something was off?” he asked.
“Well, my instincts dunnae seem quite as clear as I’d expected they would be—or should be.”
“Well,” he said, but then halted, the cut on her forehead catching his attention when the moonlight shone there. He reached for his plaid and ripped off a strip of it, and then he raised his arms to bind her head.
She leaned away from him. “What are ye doing to me?” she asked with a suspicious lilt.
Grant chuckled at that, to which William scowled. “I’m simply binding yer forehead, lass. Ye’ve a cut.”
Frowning, she raised her hand to her forehead, touched the wound with her fingertips, and then hissed. “I’ve a cut.”
“Is that nae what I just said?” he asked, incredulous.
“Aye,” she replied, “but I’ve learned nae to trust ye.”
He supposed he deserved that, so he did not respond. Grant, however, did.
“Ye can trust him,” Grant told her.
Ada simply harrumphed, snatched the piece of plaid from William’s hand, and tied it around her own forehead. She looked quite simply, piercingly lovely, even with a strip of his plaid tied around her bleeding head. He wished he did not find her so very bonny.
“Ye were saying about my gift…” she nudged.
“Actually, I was nae because ye keep interrupting me,” William said, rolling his shoulders and then his neck.
“I’m all silence now,” she assured him. He snorted, given she’d just talked. She scowled but did not speak.
“Esther told me there was a second requirement for yer gift to truly activate. Nae anyone ever kenned it but her because she was standing so close to the fae when they quietly said the words the day of yer blessing. She confessed it to yer father, but he made her vow her silence.”
“What was it?” Ada asked, her voice little more than a fearful whisper.
He reached toward her and gently grasped her shoulders, hoping it was a comfort, and squeezed. He had to get a hold on this incessant need to reassure her. It kept driving him to do things before his mind caught up to remind him not to. Part of him wished he’d said nothing now, considering what he knew, but he could not let her feel she had no worth beyond the gift. He took her by the elbow and led her away from Grant, who had been blessedly and wisely silent. “Two sacrifices must be made,” he said, keeping his tone low even though Grant already knew it.
“What do ye mean?” she asked.
“I would assume the fairies meant acts of sacrifice for another. One by ye…” He stopped, the realization that she’d made a sacrifice already stealing his ability to speak for a moment. “Ye ran straight into danger to protect Thomas.”
“And ye,” she blurted, then promptly bit down on her lip.
“Me?” He winced at the amazement in his voice. “Why would running to Connor have protected me?”
“Because,” she said, her eyelashes veiling her eyes, “I had a vision of ye falling from a great height and I thought to protect ye from it, but—”
“It was ye that fell,” he said. “I…I dove.”
“To save me,” she finished softly. Then she gasped. “Do ye think my gift will now work as it’s meant to? Were ye the other person that Esther said would need to make a sacrifice?”
