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and headed toward a stand of trees a short distance away. “Everyone is awaiting our arrival.”
    In silence she walked by his side, the blasts of snow-ridden wind a stark reminder of her reason to be here. Shame filled her. How could she think of Lord Grey as anything but a means to find her uncle’s killer? Limbs rattled overhead battered by another gust, and she tugged her cape tighter.
    Atair glanced over, his face drawn. “I thought it best for you to brief the fey warriors on your suspicions.”
    “My thanks.”
    Atair sighed. “Catarine, he is human.”
    “I know what he is.”
    Her senior fey warrior slowed. “I know you care for him, as I understand you are well aware to consider helping—much less being with—a human is forbidden.”
    Though her senior fey warrior, Atair was a friend, one who she turned to when she needed advice. “Our situation is critical, and my decision is one I am confident my father would make. As for my duties, I will handfast while the sun rises on Beltane.”
    Sage eyes met her. “A wise decision to follow the dictate of necessity, nae that of the heart.”
    “’Tis the way of my ancestors.”
    He shrugged. “It does nae mean you canna wish for someone to love.”
    “Like you?” she asked.
    “We are nae speaking of me,” Atair replied, his voice soft with concern. “Catarine, I do nae want to see you hurt.”
    “Nor will I be. We will remain away from the Otherworld for a sennight, a fortnight at most.”
    “Attraction can happen in a moment. For everyone involved, I pray yours with Lord Grey will pass.”
    “I will do my royal duty when the time comes.”
    “Of that I have no doubt.”
    Exhausted, she scanned the sky. Her mind churning with unwanted emotions for Trálin MacGruder, Catarine studied the top of the ben to the west where jagged peaks scraped the low sky like angry fingers of grey. A shiver whipped through her.
    “I prefer the spring,” she said, “The long days of sunlight and how the sun seems to hang in the sky like a battle with the night.”
    Atair raised an amused brow. “A battle with the night, is it? Are you practicing to be a bard?”
    At his teasing, she laughed, thankful for their friendship. However much they disagreed, she could always count on Atair to be a voice of reason. Though she didn’t love the fey prince, he was a man she respected. For the sake of peace within their realm, that had to be enough.
    “Come, ’twill be dark soon.” Snow crunched beneath her boots as they walked through the forest to where her men stood.
    Atair studied the churn of clouds overhead. “I fear the snow will be heavy by morning.”
    “Aye,” she agreed, “and ’twill make travel difficult.”
    “Or impossible,” he added.
    She caught a limb, shoved it aside. “I will give Tra—Lord Grey chamomile this night to help him sleep.”
    “He is fortunate to have your aid. ’Twas me, I would give him naught but a boot in the arse.”
    Far from intimated by his gruffness, she chuckled. “You would give him chamomile as well.”
    “Mayhap.”
    Warmth touched her heart. A fair man, Atair would, nae that he would admit it now.
    At their approach, the fey warriors nodded their welcome and widened their circle to allow them entry.
    “My thanks for meeting me here,” Catarine said. “I couldna speak freely around Lord Grey.”
    Understanding in their eyes, her warriors nodded.
    “It concerns the stone circle,” she said. “Atair believes the trail is there, but is erased by magic.”
    Surprise widened Sionn’s eyes. “Magic?”
    “Aye,” she replied.
    “Magic from the Otherworld has been used on Earth before,” Atair said.
    “Never for evil,” she said. Gusts of wind spun snow around them in hectic spirals.
    Kuircc drew his hand through his thick beard. “What do you think it means?”
    She shrugged. “I am unsure, but whoever is behind the foul deed at Preswick Castle is someone who has powerful magic. A point proven by the knight’s