Marjorie looked back at Colin who held the Ticker clenched in his fist and studied the rock with a frown. He had a shoulder pouch thrown over his shoulder with only a few valuable possessions: a few silver coins, enough to buy passage as far as China—the farthest destination Marjorie could think of—an antler comb, a waterskin with water, clean linen cloths, as well as several jars with healing potions and herbs. There was also a rope for making rabbit snares, a meat pie, cheese, bread, and bannock for the few days on the road. Marjorie had grandfather’s sword in the sheath behind her back for when Colin would be grown enough to be able to wield it, as well as her bow and a quiver full of arrows. She was dressed in her leather breeches, perfect for a long way. A woolen cloak hung from her shoulders, for the nights they’d need to sleep outside in the woods. She wondered how long it would take to find Konnor—a few moons? A year? Perhaps, more. They had to be ready for everything. Colin had Marjorie’s dagger on his belt next to his wooden sword.
She’d said goodbye to the whole castle, explaining to them Konnor had proposed to her and they were going to be with him. The shock Marjorie saw in the people’s eyes was overwhelming. Malcolm said she was clearly out of her mind and threatened to lock her in her room until her father came back. Muir said he’d come with her. Marjorie cried for a while over Tamhas’s grave, and somehow, she felt supported and blessed after.
The whole clan was in turmoil, staring at her as though she’d lost her mind. Isbeil was the only one who actually looked at her as though she was sane, and she calmed the people down.
Marjorie considered going to Inverlochy first to see if her clan was there and to say goodbye, or if she should wait for them to return from the war. But she was sure that if she did, they’d never let her go. Her father was very capable of locking her in her room until she came back to her senses.
So no matter how much it hurt to possibly never seeing them again, to not be able to say goodbye, it was the best thing to do. But she did write long letters to Craig, Domhnall, Owen, and to her father. She only told the truth about time travel to Craig. He had watched over her all her life and rescued her from Alasdair. She owed him the truth, whether he would believe it or not. He’d probably think she’d lost her mind, but by the time he read the letter, she’d hopefully be long gone. Colin dictated her his own goodbye to everyone.
With that done, and Glenkeld left under Malcolm’s careful supervision, Marjorie, with Colin by her side, went through the woods with her stomach squeezing in anxiety. She was afraid both that the rock would work, and that it wouldn’t.
And now that they were here, she had no idea what to do.
“Mayhap ye put yer hand in the handprint?” Colin said, hugging himself.
“But what if I go and ye dinna?”
“Then mayhap ye take my hand?”
Marjorie nodded and sighed. She took Colin’s palm in hers. His was warm and solid, hers was cold and shaking. She looked into his eyes. “Ready?”
“Aye.”
She released a long, audible breath. “Godspeed.”
“Wait,” a female voice said behind her, and the scent of lavender and grass reached her nose.
Colin and Marjorie both turned their heads. A woman in a dark-green, hooded cloak stood nearby, copper hair cascading in perfect waves down her shoulders and on her chest. She came closer, her eyes studying both Marjorie and Colin with bewilderment.
Marjorie stood up and pulled Colin behind her back, her hand on the hilt of her sword. The woman may be a faerie or a queen, but until Marjorie was sure she meant no harm to her son, she wouldn’t be calm.
“I’m Sìneag.” The woman smiled. “No need to be afraid, Marjorie.”
“I’m not afraid,” Marjorie said. How did she know her name? Knowing everyone’s names must be among the faerie’s magical abilities besides time travel.
She glanced at the rock, and her face gained a sly satisfaction. “Were ye trying to go through time? To Konnor?”
Marjorie raised her head. “Aye. We were.”
“Usually ‘tis just one person.”
“Usually?
Sìneag laughed. “Aye, ye dinna think ye’re the only one this has happened to, do ye?”
“I did.”
Sìneag shook her head. “Nae. ‘Tis what I do. I match people through time. Yer brother Craig and Amy. I hope ye and Konnor… Who kens how much happiness through time I can create?” Her voice rang with excitement.
Marjorie’s mouth opened. So she was right about her sister-in-law’s accent and some of the words she used, that she sounded like Konnor. Marjorie hadn’t spoken with her long when they gathered the family in Inverlochy, but she remembered an odd feeling about the woman. Why would Craig not have told her? Maybe for the same reason she hadn’t wanted anyone to know about Konnor’s real origin. She wouldn’t have believed Craig. She was glad she’d decided to tell him the truth in her letter, after all. He was probably the only one who’d believe her.
“Ye too, lad?” Sìneag said.
Marjorie looked back at Colin, and he stared at Sìneag with an open mouth and eyes full of wonder.
“Aye.” He stepped from behind Marjorie’s back. “We both.”
Sìneag sighed and pressed her mouth mournfully. “Oh, lad, ‘tis wonderful that ye want to travel in time, too. But ‘tis nae possible.”
“What? Why?” Colin said, the wonder in his face replaced by disappointment mixed with anger.
“Because the tunnel of time can be opened only three times for a couple. Those are the faerie rules.”
“He’s part of the couple,” Marjorie said. “I’m nae going anywhere without him.”
Sìneag pressed her lips together, thinking. “Aye. A good mother wouldna leave her child behind, but the two of ye just isna possible.”
“Can ye make an exception?” Marjorie said, something inside of her shaking with worry.
Sìneag mournfully tilted her head to the side and bit her lip.
Colin said, “In one of Isbeil’s stories, the faerie asked for a sacrifice. All I have is Arthur, my sword.”
“Do ye love it dearly?” Sìneag said.
“Aye. ‘Tis like my great-grandfather’s sword. ‘Tis all I have until I can wield a great claymore like my grandfather’s.”
“Aye. I can accept it.”
Colin’s hand shot to the hilt of his wooden sword. “Arthur…” he whispered. He looked down at the sword and swallowed. “Grandfather made it for me. Uncle Owen suggested the name and trained me with it for the first time.”
Marjorie’s heart bled for him. It was probably like leaving a part of his childhood behind. Colin took a deep breath, pursed his lips in a mournful grimace, and gave a curt, decisive nod. He took the sword and carried it in front of him ceremoniously.
“I sacrifice ye, Arthur, for passage to the future.”
He came to stand in front of Sìneag, who watched him with big eyes that watered a little. She took the sword from his hands and held it before her like treasure.
“I will treasure it and keep it safe,” Sìneag said, and it disappeared in her hands. Marjorie gasped. Colin blinked several times and looked at Sìneag with reverence.