There’s no missing the way Dugald stiffens at Duncan’s name. The tiniest of trickles of power seep into my core. I haven’t been able to pull on it even as much as I did with the Druid since returning except for the healing I’ve done, but this is comparatively miniscule even to that small amount.
“Not until you answer my question.”
“What question?” I throw my hands up in exasperation.
“Were you trying to die?”
“No.”
“Then what were you thinking? They had guns, aimed at you, Quinn. You know how guns work, right? You know they would have killed you?”
“No, I guess I don’t. You see, I’m an absolute idiot,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I know how guns work, but I was trying to use magic. I figured it would, I don’t know, save me somehow.”
“You are an idiot.”
“You want to know why I probably can’t remember ever being your lover?” I ask with a malicious grin. “Because you’re an asshole. Why would I want to remember having been dumb enough to sleep with you?”
A conflicting display of emotions races across his face and ends in laughter. A belly laugh that leaves him gasping. He shakes his head and waves a hand in the air.
“There’s the Quinn I knew.”
“Great. Glad I can amuse you. Now send me back.” The last vestiges of laughter fade as he turns and walks off. I expect him to stop or to say something but when he doesn’t show any sign of it, I run after him. “Where are you going? I have to get back. Rob is in trouble. I need him to save Duncan.”
“Do you?” he asks without breaking his stride.
“If not him, who? You going to do something useful and help? Or the Druid? Or maybe one of your, what, cousins in the Unseelie?”
He stops. I catch up and move in front of him to keep him from walking off again. His face is a mask of emotionlessness. Seconds pass then minutes as we stare, silent. Each of us waiting for the other to break.
“You don’t.”
“Don’t? Don’t what?”
“Need Rob, Quinn. You don’t need anyone.”
“Not even you?” I ask, trying to hurt him and I succeed.
His mask shatters and the pain is there. It’s in his eyes, in the downturn of his mouth, the way his brow furrows. The way he pauses, not responding, but taking a breath before speaking.
“No. Not even me.”
Now I feel bad. Sure, I wanted to hurt him, but then at the same time I didn’t, at least not really. Or I didn’t think I would. Dugald is as stoic as they come.
“How? How am I supposed to do any of this on my own? I made the decision. That’s what you, the Druid, that hag Caill, even the blasted Queen of the Fae told me to do. I decided, but you know what? Nothing changed. Nothing has happened.
“The MacGregor name is still outlawed. Duncan is likely being tortured right now and I can’t rescue him alone. I can’t do any of this.” I wave my arms in wild desperation, raw emotion overwhelming rationality. Heart pounding, cold sweat on my head and between my breasts, and tears blurring my vision. “Ahhhh! Damn it.”
Dugald grabs my shoulders and I try to pull back but he’s strong. He pulls me in and wraps his arms around me. Stiff as a board I resist but he has one arm around my waist and the other pressing my head towards his shoulder.
He’s warm. Welcoming and familiar in that odd, déjà vu way. I can’t keep the tension in my body. Overwhelmed I give in. The dam of tears breaks free. I rest my head on his shoulder and they flow. I sob, so hard it hurts.
Loss, despair, and even rage pour forth until I’m empty but in a better way than I was. As the last of my tears fall, I step back and Dugald doesn’t try to hold me. I wipe my sleeve across my face to dry my eyes and cheeks, take a deep breath, hold it then let it out as I shake my head.
“You shouldn’t have been able to do this.”
I cover an embarrassing snort by turning it into a hoarse laugh.
“Do what? Spectacularly fail?”