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broken the contract
they’d each signed with Prince Llywelyn.
    * * *
    Callum slowly regained consciousness. His
head was pounding and his eyelids felt as heavy as a castle’s
cornerstone. Where was he? There was a distinct smell of the sea in
the air—was he on the shore, then? Nay, ‘twas too quiet. Mayhap, he
was in one of the sea caves. He tried to open his eyes once again,
but to no avail. Why was he in such a state? He truly could not ken
it. The last event he could recall with any certitude was taking a
swallow of that abominable wine his father-in-law, Laird Gordon,
had encouraged him to try. The two had come to an agreement about
the validity of the contract the MacGregors and Gordons had in
regard to the tract of land both clans claimed belonged to them.
Had the man poisoned him, then? Aye, that would attest to his sore
head and persistent stupor.
    Callum tried once more to open his eyes, this
time with greater success. Peering through the narrow slit in his
eyelids, he saw what seemed to be a mystical creature standing
before him holding a lighted taper in its hand.
    Dressed in a jagged-hemmed tunic of dark
woolen, the waist of which was cinched and draped with seashells,
the sea creature studied him as well. The brightness of the taper
the being held kept its features in darkness, but illuminated its
form enough for Callum to see what looked to be winged arms
attached to its hands. ‘Twas just as the tales had described. “Be
you water goddess...or selkie?” he croaked.
    The cogs in Branwenn’s mind turned swiftly.
The arrogant man had just given her the perfect solution to her
dilemma. “I be selkie, sir. And you have invaded my dwelling, for
which my father, the king, will not be pleased. You’ve strayed too
close to our realm and must leave here forthwith, else you may be
carried away by my kinsmen, the daoine sìth , never to see
your home or family again.”
    “I fear that my wound is too great for me to
rise from this place, fey creature. Tell me, how did I arrive at
this place? I’ve no recollection of it.”
    “Know you not?” she asked in disbelief. She
pointed up and behind her a bit. “You fell, good sir, from yon hole
in the cave’s ceiling. Now, truly, you must leave in all
haste.”
    Callum attempted to sit up, but his head
began to spin and he fell back into a fetal position once more.
“‘Struth, fey one,” he said groggily, “I am in no condition to rise
at this time. Will you not afford me a few more moments of
rest?”
    For the first time, Branwenn began to worry
for Callum’s condition. Kneeling down by his side, she rested one
palm on his lower calf for support as she placed the other on his
forehead to check for fever.
    “ Ow! ” Callum groaned, “my ankle...’tis
sore...do not press so heavily upon it, I beg you.”
    “Pray, pardon me.” ‘Twas now clear to
Branwenn that Callum’s befuddled manner was not due to some manly
overindulgence in ardent spirits, as was her original belief. But
what ailed the man? His skin was hot, his usually vivid green eyes
were dull and void of spirit, and his face was drenched in sweat.
“Your skin is as hot as a blacksmith’s forge!”
    “I fear I’ve been poisoned,” Callum said
weakly.
    Poison! A cold tremor of alarm shook
her to her core. “Callum,” Branwenn said his name without thinking,
“you must purge your stomach of its contents forthwith!” Not
waiting for a reply, she quickly pinched his nostrils closed with
one hand and forced two fingers down his throat with the other.
Tho’ he attempted to fight her off, he was so weakened by the
effects of whatever he’d ingested, that she was easily able to
overpower him, and in the next instant, he was gagging, heaving,
and expulsing his earlier meal.
    “By the blood of Christ, fey one...leave me
be,” Callum pleaded afterward, his voice now thread-like, as he
rolled onto his back and turned his face away from her. His thick
auburn hair, that had come loose of its