Page 57 of A Laird and a Gentleman

“Tame each gust of wind and ask it to do your bidding,” her mother shouted through the doorway over the howling wind.

In response, Mariam lifted her hands toward the ceiling above her and willed the wind to do her bidding. To her amazement, one by one, the stones lifted and fell away until the cauldron was bathed in moonlight.

“Now release the wind,” her mother directed.

In her mind, Mariam quieted the gusts of wind until only a gentle breeze remained. She lowered her hands and turned to meet Cameron’s steady gaze. His expression was one of utter amazement.

“You are stunning,” he said, his voice filled with amazement. “It is as though the wind is part of you.”

Mariam didn’t understand until she looked down at herself. Her plain green dress had changed into a brilliant green, like that of the heather after a rain, with gold spirals etched across the surface of the long, flowing gown. Her hair hung loose about her shoulders, but it was not still, instead it fluttered about her shoulders as though enchanted by the very wind she had summoned. It wasn’t her gown or hair that brought a sense of wonder to curl in her chest though, it was the fact that her fingers glowed with a light that came from inside her.

She swayed unsteadily, somewhat drained from the effort it took to summon the wind, but she was nowhere near as weakened as she had been the other times she had done the same. Cameron was at her side in a heartbeat, leading her beyond the remnants of the cairn. “What is happening to me?”

“You are becoming your true self.” With a motion of her hand, her mother summoned a wave from far below. The water curled over their heads and hovered there. The moon cast a pale stream of light to cut through the water, highlighting it in an otherworldly green glow as it touched her mother’s white hair before returning to join the other waves in the sea. As the water beaded on her head, Mariam’s mother’s ragged black garment changed to a shimmering blue with silver shells etched into the fabric. Her white hair streamed out behind her and the same fantastical glow illuminated the older woman’s fingers.

Instead of filling Mariam with awe, the sight of her mother so altered by her magic filled her with unease. Mariam’s gaze shot to the eight urns at her mother’s feet then to the sky overhead that roiled with not just the darkness of night, but the arrival of the ash cloud that had blanketed Ravenscraig before they had left. Pain came to her chest and tightened her throat, making breathing difficult. “Did all of our ancestors have to go through this same trial as I do now?”

“Nay. They were all born here on the isle.” Concern filled her mother’s eyes. “There is something more I must tell you.”

“There is more?” Mariam’s whole body shook as dark, ominous clouds of ash roiled above them. Ash started to fall, lightly at first, then with greater intensity.

“It is why you had to come here. It is why the ancestors are here . . . to save you. Because you were not born on this isle, the good magic—the white magic—that flows here has yet to bind itself to you. For the isle to give you the gift of white magic instead of black, you will have to sacrifice what it is you hold most dear before midnight on the dawning of your nineteenth year.”

It was almost midnight. Fear rose up inside Mariam, as thick and as rich as the power she felt simmering in her veins. It was a battle between the woman she had become over the past week versus dark magic that was already in her soul. She hadn’t been wrong about fearing she would be like her father. But to sacrifice something—someone—she held dear . . . She couldn’t do it. Not even if it meant she would be like the man she despised.

Her heart thudded heavily in her chest. She looked into Cameron’s eyes and saw the reflection of a witch staring back at her. The stirrings of darkness erupted inside her, instantly at odds with the person she had longed to become.

“Fight it,” Cameron said, coming toward her, through the magic that swirled at her feet. “This is just one more battle for you to win.”

“I will never do anything to harm you.” For he was the person who mattered most to her.

Her thoughts moved back to her dream.

Death. Her own.

Mariam swallowed roughly. She knew what she had to do.

Chapter Nineteen

Mariam gathered the wind at her feet, swirling, gusting, until she could barely stand. Overhead, lightning slashed the sky in jagged bolts. Thunder rattled, loud and booming, over the howling of the wind. The ground beneath her feet pitched and rolled as she gathered her power from the elements around her. The wind writhed and thrashed.

She locked her gaze on Cameron’s as her soul divided; one half leaning toward the light, the other toward the dark. She might have been torn in the past by her two desires, each as strong as the other, but no longer. There was another force inside her stronger than either of those two things.

Love.

Instead of shielding her emotions from him, Mariam allowed all the love in her heart to show on her face, in her eyes as she reached deep inside, grasping every fragment of power she possessed and sent it outward, blasting both Cameron and her mother away from her.

With her next breath, she raised her arms, gathering the churning sky in her mind—all the ash, all the darkness, and all the sickness before her life came to an end.

“Wind to my will!” she cried out. Above her the black clouds gathered, swirled, in a magnificent vortex, pulling every impurity inside it. She was no longer afraid that she would be enough to vanquish the darkness as it took hold, that it would suck her into a void from which there was no return, or even that it would turn her into something evil. If she had to make a sacrifice, it would be herself in order to claim a better future for all of Scotland.

In the distance, she could see Cameron gain his feet. He struggled forward against the wind, making slow progress through sheer force of will. The emotions in his eyes were clear.

I love you.

Her vision blurred and her limbs ached as the magical forces sapped her strength. She struggled to hold her thoughts, digging deeper, tapping into wells of strength she did not know she possessed. Bolstered by an infusion of power, she shifted her hands from the sky toward the cairn’s former location and the magical cauldron. Instead of bringing back life, perhaps the otherworldly metal could harbor what might bring about death.

Shaking from head to foot, Mariam forced the ash and debris into the gaping darkness. The earth shook and sparks erupted from the ancient metal as it consumed all she threw its way until she was nearly depleted of her strength. Mariam dropped to her knees. Once the air was clear and she could finally see not just the moon, but also the stars overhead, she focused her efforts on trapping the ash and the sickness in the cairn for all eternity.