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them with a steady stare and forced a smile. It cost her. “Good morning,” she said with a nod, and then she made her way toward the bright sunlight beaming through the open door. It would warm her, she hoped. Warm that part of her soul that had gone so cold.
    But she had to stop before she made her escape. Had to turn and pin them both with a vehement look. “Oh, and Trevor?”
    He lurched as she spoke his name. Gulped. “Aye, my lady?”
    â€œI am no’ a witch. I would appreciate it if you would stop saying that.”
    She left them then, burbling and groaning and lamenting their loose tongues.
    It was a small rebuke, a gentle one, but she’d needed to say the words. She’d wanted to say more, wanted to rail at them both for their cruelty, their callous disregard, their ignorance, but she’d long ago learned that a vociferous defense of her sanity had an unfortunate and opposite effect.
    She was different from others and she knew it. She knew she wasn’t like other girls, girls who could play and laugh and live their lives without the burden of knowledge. Girls who could love and be loved.
    Girls who never had to worry, never had to dread the day when he learned the truth. When that expression flickered through his eyes. When he backed away and shook his head … and left.
    No man wanted to be with a woman like her. A woman who was touched. Lana had accepted it. But it was a pained acceptance.
    She wanted nothing more than to be like them.
    But she wasn’t and never would be.
    In something of a fog, she made her way into the woods, to a clearing she’d found that was particularly peaceful. She sat on the old log and closed her eyes and soaked in the beauty of the day. She needed it today. Especially now.
    That unpleasant scene with Galen, combined with the trails of her dream, had her on edge.
    The sun splattered through the leafy cathedral, warming her face. A splendid breeze carrying the brine from the sea teased her nostrils. Birds twittered in the trees and woodland creatures scurried about. Such surrounds warmed her soul, made her feel a part of it … a part of something .
    She knew when Lileas sat down beside her. Of all the souls she’d met since she came to Dunnet, she liked Lileas the best. The woman was sweet and serene and at peace with her fate. Though Lana sensed a deep sadness in her, she never spoke of the past. In fact, she didn’t speak much at all. But when she did, it was with purpose.
    They sat in silence, enjoying the buzz of the bees and the tickle of the breeze. Not a word passed between them. But then, they didn’t need words.
    Then suddenly Lileas’s energy shifted; it hummed with agitation. A vision swamped Lana. She was used to such visions, shared by spirits as they attempted to communicate with her—but this one made her blood go cold.
    A child. In the loch. Thrashing in the water. Dire danger.
    Lana’s heart clenched and she leaped to her feet. Alarm trickled in her veins. She rushed through the woods, trying to fight off the panic roiling in the ether. Lileas was right. Someone was in danger. A scream assaulted her as she emerged from the trees at the loch, and her breath stalled. Her panic was replaced by sheer, unadulterated fury.
    A girl thrashed in waters far over her head and a group of boys stood around her, keeping her from finding the shore. Her cries sent a shaft of dismay through Lana.
    Fiona was a tiny thing, one of the many orphans fostered at Lochlannach Castle; her mother had perished after her family had been burned out of their home in a Clearance to the south. The poor child had suffered far too many tragedies for such a young life, and there she was, in the cold waters of the loch. Floundering.
    But that wasn’t what enraged Lana. It was the boys, tormenting her—one holding her under and then letting her up so she could scream again—that infuriated her. And they were