The Edinburgh Seer Complete Trilogy Read online

  “Oh, Aini!” Neve grabbed Aini by the arms. “I can hardly believe it. It’s amazing.”

  Aini stood motionless, until she turned and looked at Thane with coffee-black eyes. She needed support now, going through this madness. But all she had was him, the enemy, the wolf hiding in the trees. Thane grabbed his sweater at the chest and gripped it tightly, the loose weave distorting the curves of his fingerprints.

  Vera snorted and swaggered up to Aini. “Think you can handle it, Seer?”

  Aini’s mouth worked, but nothing came of it.

  Owen pulled Vera and Dodie aside. They spoke, heads together. Vera and Dodie joined a group at one of the many rickety wooden tables across the barn. The climbing wall stood behind them, covered in ropes like vines.

  Owen waved Thane, Aini, Neve, and Myles toward the back of the barn. The wall there didn’t sit quite flush with the rest of the wood. It was an exit. Or an entrance to another area. Thane didn’t know where it led, but it was no place he wished to go. Not being a Campbell.

  “What did you see when you touched the brooch?” Owen asked Aini. “Don’t be afraid. We have several sixth-sensers here. Threaders. Ghost Talkers. No dreamers, yet… Sixth-senser skills are valuable to the cause. Yours, of course, especially so.”

  Raising her chin, Aini looked at Owen. “I touched the brooch and saw a stone. It looked like…like a seat. Someone had carved swirling shapes and circles in it. It’s the Coronation Stone? The one that will announce the Heir when that person touches it?”

  “Aye. It is.” Owen rubbed his hands together. “It’s mind-blowing. You’ve seen the stone in your visions.” Throwing his head back, he laughed. “My siblings treated you terribly at the club.”

  Myles raised a finger. “Yeah, I expect a seriously beautiful I’m sorry for punching your face card from that thug you call a brother.”

  Owen pressed a hand to his chest. “Apologies, Myles.”

  Myles’s head jerked back and he looked from Owen to Neve and back again. “How do you know my name?”

  Owen raised his eyebrows. “As I mentioned earlier, when I guessed who this young lady might be, I released a few operatives into your part of Edinburgh. They told me you were Myles Smith, son of a successful plantation owner in the southern American colonies.”

  Myles’s scowl could’ve melted the altered tablet candy hiding in Thane’s secret bag. “Let’s get back to this vision,” he said quietly.

  “I think I saw Angus, your ancestor, in the vision,” Aini said, changing the subject. “He looked like you, Vera, and Dodie.”

  Nodding excitedly, Owen pulled on a thick rope, and with a snick of a mechanism, the uneven back walls slid to the side, revealing a rock passageway leading into the side of the hill. “He was the first of the Dionadair.”

  “What does that word mean anyway?” Aini asked.

  Owen led the lot of them through the door and into a dimly lit, but large tunnel. Aini’s gaze traveled over the dug-out passageway. She shouldn’t have been too claustrophobic in this place, Thane thought. An elephant could walk through that passage. But what did he know of the phobia? He couldn’t judge. He squeezed his eyes shut. Where was his head? Here he was worrying over small things when they were about to stroll into a secret passageway with the head of the Dionadair. He’d gone mad, that’s what this was. Thane had gone completely off his head.

  “Dionadair means protector,” Owen said. “We’re protectors of Scotland and the stone.” Owen blinked like an owl behind his glasses.

  Cursing himself silently, Thane trailed right along behind Owen, Aini, and the rest. Every five feet or so down the passage, lights glowed—orange and inconsistent—from the rock walls. Scuffed beams lined the roof and made crude archways. Thane touched the chain at his throat. Quite the nest these Dionadair had here.

  Aini looked over her shoulder at Thane, and he sped up to walk just behind her. If Owen tried anything, he’d be ready.

  “There was a vision on the knife, too,” Aini said. “It showed a wall marked with a spiral. The shape was reminiscent of the one on the Coronation Stone.”

  “The Waymark Wall,” Owen said reverently. “When you find the wall and touch it, it’ll give you the final vision and lead you to the stone. Where did you see it?”

  Aini sure was giving away a great deal of information. Thane’s mind whirred around the threats, risks, and the possibilities of this new world they’d been dumped into. The girl would be wise to keep some information back. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder and she glanced at him, a wrinkle appearing between the delicate slant of her black eyebrows. Turning slightly away from Owen, he put a finger to his lips. Her gaze going over his face, she began to scowl. He knew she didn’t like being bossed about, but maybe she’d take his nonverbal advice anyway.

  A droopy-faced woman in a dark shirt and corduroys came out of the back of the tunnel. “If you give us five minutes, we’ll have the rooms ready.”

  Owen gave the woman a nod and she scampered off.

  Chewing the inside of her lip, Aini kept quiet on Owen’s last question about the location of the Waymark Wall. The way she was working that lip, she had to be making mental lists of what to do now. At least she’d taken his advice to keep quiet.

  That Owen was wise. He kept his tongue as well, not pushing Aini to answer. He’d earn her trust backing away like that. Rodric could’ve taken a lesson from the man.

  Aini sighed and nodded, as she’d come to some conclusion with herself. “I don’t know where the Waymark Wall was in the vision. Near the ocean, I think.”

  Thane ground his teeth. She was going all in then.

  Her eyes went bright like the time she’d thought of a new way to organize the lab stock. “What is our plan? So, what if I find the Coronation Stone, and somehow, the Heir? What then? It’s not like the Campbells are going to simply hand my father over and make for the border with their tails between their legs.”

  She was right about that.

  A daft smile slicked over one side of Owen’s mouth. Thane was truly starting to hate that man. “They’ll have to,” Owen said. “They’ll have no choice. Once we reveal the stone and the Heir, and Nathair Campbell’s plan to poison his countrymen and blame it on the king, Scotland will rise behind us. We will force the Campbells out.”

  Thane pressed a fist against his mouth. They were getting a bit ahead of themselves. But his heart clanged inside his chest painfully. If the Dionadair were ready to go this far, and with Aini, Neve, and Myles in the midst of it, things were about to become very, very ugly. Thane paced a small circle as they waited on the corduroy woman, his feet hot in his boots and his palms sweating. If they knew Myles’s name, they might know more. They might know something about Thane. The tunnel’s ceiling was more than high enough for him to walk comfortably, even stretch, but Thane began to feel as Aini did in closed-in spaces. Like he was being buried alive.

  He returned to her and touched her arm. “You all right in here? It’s not that tight, is it?”

  Her eyes shuttered closed and she swallowed roughly. Looking at the walls like they might bite, she whispered, “I’m okay.”

  She turned to Owen, who was watching Thane and her in a way that made Thane want to kick something. Someone.

  “Where does rescuing my father come into all of this?” she asked smartly.

  Thane crossed his arms and stood a bit closer to Owen, smiling at the head of height he had on the man.

  “If we get their feathers up about a possible sighting of the true Coronation Stone,” Owen turned a black and gold ring on his pinky finger, “it’ll be easy enough to infiltrate their ranks and steal him back. They won’t see this coming. It’s their pride that’ll make it doable.”

  Thane snorted and took up pacing again. It’d take more than Campbell ego to trip Campbells up. Maybe if the Dionadair had the weaponized sweets and could get the stone to roar in public—not that the thing most likely truly roared. Probably only a metaphor for something, but if the
Dionadair could present it properly, they might have a chance at defeating Nathair. They’d still have a lot to deal with.

  He stopped. His fingers unclenched, and a breath like a sigh or a cynical laugh floated from his mouth. He’d just been planning a revolution. A revolt against his own clan. Of course, if Nathair truly did plan on trying to push the king from Scotland…

  “What’s your story, Moray?” Myles whispered. “You think these people are out of their gourds too? They do have a pretty boss hideout though.” He elbowed Neve. “If you join the crazies, I’m in.”

  Neve whimpered and put hands on her head. “This is too much.”

  Myles rubbed her back.

  Aini pressed her palms into her eyelids. “I don’t know about all this.”

  “You’ll have to trust me, Seer,” Owen said quietly. “There’s no other way out of this with your father alive and Scotland free.”

  “But…but why me?” Aini listed to the left.

  Thane rushed to grab her by the arms.

  “You need to sit down?” There wasn’t a bench or anything in this stupid tunnel. Thane turned to Owen. “When are your blessed rooms going to be ready?”

  Owen’s mouth twisted into an ugly frown, but Vera was suddenly there, shiny as a beetle and blethering on with her brother about something. She held a walkie-talkie in one manicured hand and kept glancing at Thane.

  Aini’s lashes fluttered a little as a sad smile poured over her full lips. “Thank you,” she whispered to Thane. “I just forgot to breathe for a minute.”

  “Let’s not do that, all right?”

  She laughed a little, and he forgot he was under a hill swarming with people who would happily murder him if they knew his real name.

  “Agreed.” She gave his forearms a little squeeze.

  She had her weight under her again, so he released his hold, his stomach swimming. She was so brave and strong, but even the brave and strong needed backup.

  Vera’s gaze tore down Thane’s body, and he tensed. “What is your story? You don’t have the innocent look of the rest of these.” She pointed to Aini, Myles, and Neve.

  Myles mumbled an oh please, but Vera ignored him and ran a finger across Thane’s chest. His lip curled. He lifted her hand off his ribs and dropped it, glaring.

  A sideways grin pulled at Vera’s lips. “We found out plenty of information about that one.” She pointed to Neve. “With her many little brothers, alcoholic mother, and admirable work ethic.”

  Neve’s eyes narrowed.

  Vera licked her lips. “And we know all about Myles Smith. His plantation-owning mother in the Carolinas is a real horror story in the making.”

  Myles’s eyes burned. He looked like a different person. “Shut up.”

  Vera laughed. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, colonial. It’s not your fault mummy doesn’t love you the way she should.”

  “Vera.” Owen tilted his head, his voice warning his sister.

  She crossed her arms. “It’s only the truth.”

  “You soulless dog,” Neve hissed.

  Everyone froze.

  Vera was the first to move again. “Ooo. The mousie has a mean bite, eh? Good. You’ll need it.”

  Owen looked at the ceiling. “Forgive my sister. We’ve had our share of tragedy and it’s sharpened our edges.”

  Myles whipped away from the group and strode farther down the tunnel. He couldn’t know where he was going. Thane supposed the colonial didn’t care. Just wanted to get out of here. Poor lad.

  Myles tore back toward them. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  Vera’s face went from taunting with an eyebrow cocked, to sad, her eyes tipped down at the sides. “I’ll not say another thing about it.” She was a slippery one. Then she blinked at Thane. “But you. You’ve been naughty in your past. Shows in the eyes.”

  Thane’s pulse slowed and his training kicked in. “I’m Thane Moray. I’m nobody.”

  Sneering, Vera said, “I doubt that. You can’t go around looking like that and stay a nobody for very long.”

  She gave everyone except Aini a haughty look. With Aini, she seemed cautious, jealous maybe. Her eyes held questions.

  “St. Andrews uni student,” Vera said. “A friend named Bran, is it? And you’re an orphan with an auntie near Glasgow? You don’t dress like a Glaswegian.”

  Owen shook his head. “Vera, really. Stop.”

  Following Vera’s touch, Aini’s gaze was hard to define. Sucking a breath, Thane grabbed the woman’s wrist and threw her hand away.

  Aini stepped between them. “Enough about my friend.”

  “I agree,” Owen said, eyeing Thane. “Aini wants to know why her. Let’s focus, sister. Don’t you have a little theory on that?”

  “I do. I believe you’re Macbeth’s descendant.”

  Thane shook his head slowly.

  “I’m a Threader,” Vera said to Aini.

  Thane’s hands fisted. What would she see connected to him?

  “Don’t look so shocked.” Vera raised an eyebrow at him, then at Aini. “Why do you think I’ve been the one to search for the brooch, to believe it was real? I see...connections from people to people, or people to objects. I saw the link, a slim silver line between you and the brooch, and assumed it was only a sentimental attachment like most have with a family heirloom. But no. You are Macbeth’s Seer.”

  “This is all insane,” Aini stammered. “Even if we find the stone, we don’t know where the true Heir is that can supposedly ‘bump’ the king from his ‘chair’ as the song says. How are we going to, as you put it, get the Campbells on the run? Where does rescuing my father come in?”

  “Exactly,” Thane said before he could stop his mouth doing so. “You can’t expect Aini to trust a band of cutthroat rebels, can you?”

  Owen stared at the onyx ring on his own right hand. “Cutthroat.”

  “Aye. Tell me you wouldn’t use weaponized candy yourself to take down the Campbells. You act like they’re the only ones interested in new ways to control a group of people. What about that wall of guns you’ve got there in the barn? Unless I’m mistaken, those steely decorations do a bit more than make loud noises.”

  He knew he should shut his mouth, but the way that Owen wouldn’t meet his eyes, the way they made themselves out to be saints all set to save Scotland—it was a load of bull.

  Owen raised his head. “You wouldn’t do what must be done to defend yourself? You’d let the kingsmen shoot you down, imprison your family and friends?” He nodded at Aini. “You’d stand by while they sentence the Seer to death?”

  “I’d do no such thing, Dionadair,” Thane spat. “I’m only saying you should avoid vague notions and be clear about your intentions and not pretend your plan does not involve violence. Because it does. It always has.”

  Aini put her graceful hands, one each, on Owen’s and Thane’s chests. Her hands were stronger somehow for their delicate beauty in this difficult place, but she could’ve saved herself the trouble. The fight had dissolved from Thane’s fists and heart.

  He was a Campbell.

  He would have to stand by while someone sentenced Aini if it came to that.

  The back of Thane’s tongue tasted sour. His glare, aimed at Owen, faltered.

  Owen cocked his head and a question crossed the man’s eyes.

  A line of sweat rolled down Thane’s back.

  “I won’t help until you promise you won’t try to…murder people,” Aini said.

  “The Campbells won’t release your father,” Owen said. “You’ll have to take him back, and you’ll only be able to do that if you help us take down the lot of them and reclaim Scotland.”

  “He’s right, Aini,” Neve said, her voice timid but steady.

  Myles nodded.

  “No,” Aini snapped. “All we need to do is find the Waymark Wall, then the stone. Then we can leak the find to the Campbells to spook them and divert their attention from my father.”

  Owen turne
d and ran two fingers over his beard. “Yes.”

  Vera put a hand on his shoulder, but he gave her a look and she backed off.

  “Yes,” he said, louder this time. “It might work. After that, you can do as you wish, keep your father safe, and we’ll find the Heir on our own and leave you to participate as you see fit.”

  Thane crossed his arms, his sweater pulling tightly against his skin. He might not have known exactly where he stood in this, but he knew very well where Owen was. At the center of a rebellion—not getting Aini’s back.

  “As she sees fit, aye?” Thane said, his tone woven to help Aini see the man’s false front.

  “Of course.” Owen was a good liar.

  Aini took a breath. “It’s settled then.”

  Thane sucked a breath. Why did she believe Owen? She was smarter than that.

  Vera’s walkie talkie scratched and a voice carried through the tunnel. “Rooms prepared.”

  Thane wondered what the Dionadair had hidden while Aini and the others had waited with Owen in the tunnel. Maps of underground access tunnels the kingsmen hadn’t yet found? Loot stolen from Campbell headquarters? Falsified papers and manufactured royal seals?

  Owen and Vera led them to a large, dirt-walled room. Clusters of hammocks hung from the roughhewn ceiling beams. Several men and women polished guns and read books in the harsh white of overhead lights. A bank of filing cabinets stood on the back wall. Tiny, bronze keyholes stood out against the drawers’ blue paint. On either end of the space, laundry lines suspended drop cloths that had been pulled back to reveal neat stacks of pants, shirts, and pullovers. Reed baskets overflowed with buckled boots, red-laced trainers, and steel-toed construction footwear.

  The people in the room inclined their heads politely to Aini, their eyes bright with excitement. Wiping a rifle with a cloth, one man with a shockingly white mohawk smiled widely and said something to the people nearby. They nodded and went back to cleaning their portion of the Dionadair black-market arsenal.