‘It might not even be me. It says the one Adair will save Alba. That could be my child. Or my grandchild. Or any number of descendants.’
‘Do you really want that burden to be on someone else?’
I sighed. ‘No.’
‘And since when were you planning on children?’ His shoulders shot up as a thought struck him. ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’
I smirked. I could have a little fun with this. ‘We never did have that conversation about the birds and the bees, you know. I’m not sure I know how it all works.’
Taylor’s cheeks reddened. ‘I asked Bella to talk to you.’
I nodded. ‘She did. She told me never to charge less than fifty and to make sure they paid up front.’
He seemed to go even redder. ‘She saidwhat?’
‘Byron did mention something about…’ I wrinkled my nose as if trying to remember. ‘Con … dom? I told him I was good enough at conning for the both of us and that I didn’t need Dom to help me.’
‘Tegs?’
‘Mm?’
‘You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?’
I grinned. ‘Yep.’
‘That boy doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into,’ he muttered.
‘He’s one of the good guys, Taylor. No matter what happens, remember that.’
Taylor was silent for a long while. ‘How often do the good guys win?’
‘Sometimes it might take them a while but they always win in the end.’
‘How do you know?’
‘George Lucas.’ Taylor hissed through his teeth. I shrugged. ‘What’s the bet that the prophecy is actually about rescuing a haggis called Scotland from the clutches of a grumpy troll called Sorley?’ Taylor opened his mouth to answer and I realised what I’d said. ‘Whoa ? no actual bet. It was a figure of speech.’
It was his turn to grin. ‘Yeah. You’re backtracking because you know the good guys win in the end.’
I laughed again and reached over to give him a quick hug. ‘Amen to that.’
***
It was still fairly early when we reached the MacQuarrie border. Taylor parked carefully and we both got out and walked up on foot. ‘If you didn’t know that Morna was visiting these Lands,’ I said wonderingly, ‘you could certainly work it out.’
Taylor put an arm round my shoulders and drew me close as we gazed in front of us. ‘She’s definitely something,’ he agreed.
Swathes of multi-coloured heather covered a hilly bank, reaching all the way around it. There wasn’t a pattern as such, and the flowers didn’t spell out ‘MacQuarrie’ or anything as twee as that, but the different hues somehow fit – deep reds blending into seductive purples, followed by musky blues then brilliant greens. It was a damned shame Morna hadn’t worked out how to make hot-pink heather. All the same, my gratitude to her was immeasurable. She kept going above and beyond our growing friendship. It wasn’t just because of the prophecy; she believed in us. All of us. Either that or Tipsania had said some truly heinous things to the MacQuarries that Morna was trying to atone for.
Alongside the flowers there was a winding road leading up, no doubt, to the main MacQuarrie buildings which were currently invisible to the eye. On the other side was a forest. It was an even more stunning copse than the Cruaich grove. Trees of all shapes and sizes grew there, each one perfectly placed to receive the optimum amount of sunlight or shade, depending on the species. Was this a result of nature or of magic? It occurred to me that I could beg, borrow or steal as much of Morna’s Gift as I wanted but I’d never have the knowledge to support it so I could achieve something on this scale. The Bull’s Gift was the same. I’d stolen Aura Reading from him without realising it but it hadn’t done me the slightest good without a key to understand the auras. Admittedly, I wasn’t convinced that the Bull had a key either. He’d been convinced that my aura – identical to my father’s – meant that I was evil. Slightly wicked, perhaps. Definitely not evil.
‘Maybe,’ I mused, ‘Sidhe are only given one or two Gifts because that’s all they can handle. Having a lot doesn’t work. You become a jack of all trades instead of a master of one.’
‘Tegs,’ Taylor said, his voice taut with tension. ‘What’s that?’
I turned my head, my veins turning ice cold as I saw a plume of dark smoke snaking its way upwards to the clear, blue sky. The MacQuarries wouldn’t bother with a bonfire; with Morna visiting, the Gifts they had at their disposal negated the need to burn old crops or garden waste. And it was hardly the weather for an open hearth. Of course, one of the MacQuarries could simply be playing around with their magic. Or it could be something far, far worse.
‘Where’s the MacQuarrie flagpole?’ I asked, whipping my head around.
