Her aunt grabbed her arm and spun her around. Her gasp and hardened eyes were enough to snap Branna’s remaining threads of hope of ever seeing Devlin again. «You are filthy! Go wash at once. I’ll not see this marriage contract destroyed by your unseemly hoyden ways. You will act a lady until you leave this house as a married woman. Do you understand?»

Branna knew her aunt expected a positive response and so nodded her assent. Her aunt released her arm and Branna fled to her room. She closed the door behind her and crossed to her washbasin.

Branna picked up her small mirror. She was a mess. Her eyes were red and puffy and tears had stained her cheeks. Her hair hadn’t been brushed and her gown was dusty and torn.

She took a deep breath. If this was to be her life and her wedding celebration, then she would wear the colour her mother had worn on the night she was to be married, the night she’d died. It was the only way Branna knew to bring her mother close. She donned her yellow gown, made from patterned silk. It had long gathered sleeves trimmed with fur cuffs and a wide fur collar. She wrapped her best cloak about her shoulders and fastened it with her favourite silver brooch, a gift from Grandmama.

Branna left her room quietly and went in search of her grandmama, regularly found in the spinning room. She knocked lightly on the door and entered the room. Her grandmama sat at the side of the great spinning wheel, teasing the yarn into beautiful cloth. Branna stood without speaking, watching her grandmama’s fingers work their magic.

«Something on your mind, child?»

Branna took a deep breath. «Aunt Meeda has informed me of my marriage on the morrow.»

«I have also heard this. Are you not pleased?»

«I. ah. I cannot say as I have not met him.»

«This matters to you?»

«Aye. You have told me many times my mother loved the man she was to marry. I hoped to someday have the same.»

Her grandmama looked at her with sharp eyes. Branna couldn’t keep a flush from creeping up to her face.

«You have met someone who interests you.» It was a statement and not a question.

«Aye, but it can not be.» Branna changed the subject quickly. «Tell me more of the magic chalice. Can it make someone evil if that is in your heart?»

Grandmama resumed weaving. «Nay. It does not have such power.»

«It must. As Lord MacKenna held the chalice, I viewed a great evil take over his soul.»

Grandmama grabbed her arm. «You have seen the chalice?»

«Aye.» Branna cast her eyes to the floor. «But I lost it to Lord MacKenna, the man who helped me find it.»

«This man is your heart’s desire?»

Branna whispered, «Aye.»

«My child, the chalice has not the power to change what’s in one’s heart, but it can pass on lingering energy from the one who held it last. This might sway someone who has both good and evil in his heart.»

Branna raised her head and stared at her grandmama. «The dogs, they touched it last.» Hope flare within Branna. «You believe their evil was transferred and ’twas not truly him?»

«’Tis possible. Do you wish to know?»

«Aye.»

«Then you must trust your heart as did your mother.»

«Thank you.» Branna hugged and kissed her grandmama.

She ran from the spinning room and out to the stable. She pulled Molly from her stall and set her to saddle and bridle. A dirk lying across a table caught her attention. The dogs.

Branna grabbed it before mounting. If she had to kill them to save Devlin, so be it.

She knew without doubt that Devlin would never harm her.

Six

Devlin stood within the old stone circle, just outside the portal tomb. The full moon illuminated the three cloaked and hooded men by his side.

He shifted on his feet, transferring the chalice to his other hand. Devlin was anxious to begin his new duties, to rule the Underworld. Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. It was nothing he could lay a finger upon, but a hollow feeling persisted in his gut, similar to when his father had died.

Could his feelings of disquiet be due to his ill treatment of Branna? Devlin grew more uncomfortable. She hadn’t deserved his anger. Yet, he’d felt compelled to hurt her. He still could not understand why. Branna had only brought him comfort, lightness and ultimately. ecstasy. He could still smell and taste her skin after making love to her.

No woman had made him feel as whole or complete as Branna. Why was she not by his side? He knew the answer. His destiny lay in the Underworld and hers was in the light. His life was set and to bring Branna into it would cost her her life. He had to do this alone.

Devlin shook his head, dispelling his unease. Nothing would interfere with this transition. Devlin’s grip on the chalice hardened. It was now his duty to be sure this magic never reached mortal hands again. It was his heart’s desire, wasn’t it?

The thumping of hooves reached his ears. He turned and saw a woman on horseback. He knew who it was by her silhouette.

Branna.

The cloaked men around him transformed into sleek, powerful, white hounds. His uncle and the dogs moved as one to take up offensive positions.

Devlin raised his hand, stilling them. «I shall handle this.»

He stepped a short distance from the circle, headed for Branna. «Halt. You must leave at once.»

«Not until I get what I want.» She slid from the horse and walked towards him.

«You have no more business here. Return to your family and forget this.»

She didn’t stop. «Nay.»

Devlin drew his sword and held it stiffly before him. She stumbled when the moonlight struck it, glinting off its broad edge, but continued walking until she reached its sharp tip.

Devlin search her face, agonizing over his next words, barely moving for fear he’d nick her throat. «Please. don’t come closer. I’ve no wish to harm you.»

I wish to take you in my arms, but it would be your death.

She swallowed and whispered, «Nay.»

A chuckle almost escaped. He remembered their first meet had gone this way. «You must give up the chalice. It is lost to you.»

«’Tis not the chalice I seek.»

«What then?» Devlin words were ragged, not sure he could bear her closeness.

«’Tis you.»

«Nay, I’m lost.» The words slipped out painfully from between his tightly clenched teeth. «My uncle told me of your mother’s betrayal. She pushed my father into the jaws of the dogs. You must understand, she had to die.»

«Nay! Your uncle has lied to you. My mother took your father’s hand, prepared to fight beside him. But your father pushed her back to protect her. I was there. I saw it. My mother loved your father, as I love you.»

Confusion and anger ripped through Devlin. «You saw them fight together?»

«Aye.»

Devlin knew she did not lie.

Branna eased forwards until the tip of his sword pressed the base of her throat. «You are not evil. The evil you feel is from the dogs, as they last touched the chalice before it was buried. I believe you want to be released from this burden. I believe you want me.»

Devlin’s knees buckled as she leaned into the point. The sword pricked her skin, drawing a bead of blood. She closed her eyes. «You won’t hurt me. I trust you.»

The sight of crimson against her smooth white skin, skin he’d kissed and stroked, made him ill.

Aghast, he sank to his knees, sick and shaken. His sword dropped, the blade falling to the ground beside him. «Nay, I cannot harm you. I love you.»

The dogs growled menacingly behind him. He felt their presence closing in.

Devlin set his jaw. The idea seeded in him earlier had now taken root in his soul. He’d gain his heart’s desire — revenge against his uncle. He would not allow this evil to continue; it would stop with him. Even if it meant losing himself to the Underworld. and losing Branna.

Devlin stood, thrust the chalice into Branna’s hands and retrieved his sword. «Go. The chalice is yours. This is my fight.»

Branna shook her head. She pulled a small dirk from the folds of her skirt and grabbed his hand. «Nay. I will fight by your side. Together, we will defeat this evil.»

The dogs moved and encircled them, three to their two. Branna stood back to back with Devlin, each of them keeping the dogs within sight.

When Branna came close to the tomb, she threw the chalice within, praying its sacredness would protect it.

While she was distracted, the dogs attacked. Devlin whirled, pushing her against the tall rock. Branna stifled a scream as two hounds simultaneously launched at him. With a wide swipe of his sword, he scraped the first dog in the chest, splaying open a wound.

The blade continued its deadly path cleanly connecting with the neck of the other dog, beheading it. Both dogs fell to the earth. The headless dog was instantly sucked underground. The first dog lay panting hard, gravely injured. Its breaths slowed and stopped, then it was pulled below.

The third dog growled low in his throat. Branna gasped and moved out from behind Devlin. By its eyes, she recognized him as the lead dog, the one who’d panted in her face when she was a child. He snarled and bent low, jumping not at Devlin, but at her.

«Branna, no!»

Devlin brought his sword around, the blade awkwardly twisted away from its target. As she saw the dog flying towards her, Devlin threw his body in front of her and the dog’s jaws clamped down mere inches from her face. Devlin and the hound fell, snarling and grappling, a tangle of limbs. The dog gained the top, standing on Devlin’s chest, his hand and wrist in its jaws.

Branna gripped the dirk hard and threw herself at its back, stabbing it in the neck. It yelped and fell off Devlin, rolling on the ground, injured but not dead. Devlin quickly gained his feet and stabbed it in the chest. It too went still and disappeared under the earth.

«How very touching.»

Branna was yanked by her hair and pulled against the chest of Devlin’s uncle, his sword to her throat. This blade she knew could end her life.

Devlin gained his feet, his heart thumping as once again a blade rested at Branna’s throat.

«Release her. This is our fight, not hers.»

«I’m the better swordsman, especially with you injured.» He nodded to Devlin’s bleeding hand. Devlin held his sword strong and true, even as his bloodied arm throbbed. He didn’t care about the pain. He’d bear it to save Branna.

«Would you like to lose an arm to prove it?»

«Would you betray me as did your father?» His uncle’s voice turned soft, pleading. «She is of the same evil seed as her mother. She’ll destroy you. We must kill her, destroy the chalice and continue with our heart’s desire — the ceremony that will make you a ruler.»

Devlin had his heart’s desire in Branna. «I want the truth. Why did my father die?»

«It was an unfortunate miscalculation. Your father was besotted by that woman. He’d already sipped from the chalice and betrayed us. I couldn’t allow the marriage. I called to the dogs.»

«You called the dogs?»

«Aye. She was evil. Your father couldn’t see the wisdom of her death. He was weak, not like you who are strong.»

«What was of such great consequence you would sacrifice your own blood, your brother?»

«I was supposed to lead the Underworld, not the dogs. I made a bargain with the Lord of the Underworld, the most powerful of rulers. Yet there is always a sacrifice. The cost of my heart’s desire was my brother. and now you.»

«That is why you groomed me? To replace your brother, so you could have power?»

His uncle’s expression turned cold. «You shan’t judge me.» He glanced at the moon. «We waste time.» He pulled Branna by her hair towards the tomb. «Give me the chalice.»

Branna exchanged glances with Devlin. She reached in and retrieved it.

Once she had it in her possession, his uncle grabbed the chalice and pushed Branna away. «This is mine. I have to make it right.» He backed up and tripped on one of the discarded rocks from the previous night. He lost his balance and stumbled into the portal tomb.

His eyes turned into glowing red orbs like the dogs. His feet began sliding under the earth. «What’s happening? No, no this can’t be right. I gave you my brother. I’ll deliver my nephew to you. Don’t do. this. to me.»

A loud roaring filled Devlin’s ears and, within seconds, his uncle disappeared under the earth in a puff of smoke. The chalice bounced unharmed on the charred surface.