comfortable seats. “Anything you can remember would be very helpful.” Once the woman was settled, Cameron motioned for Mariam to take the other large chair while he pulled up a bench and settled himself before the two women. The great hall cleared, leaving the three of them in private to talk.
Mistress MacInnes’s brow knotted in thought. “Can you be more specific?”
Cameron turned to Mariam. “What would you like to know about your mother?”
“The stories my father tells of her are not at all favorable. I don’t remember much about her, but what I do remember was her goodness.” Mariam shrugged. “It’s more a feeling than an actual memory.”
Nessie’s eyes twinkled as she smiled. “She loved you, Mariam, with all her heart and tried to keep you safe from those who would harm you.”
Without saying the words, she knew Nessie meant Mariam’s father. She was not here to talk about the man she knew, only the mother she did not.
“What was your relationship with my mother?” Mariam was conscious of a new element of wariness as Nessie shifted in her chair.
“I was her closest confidante.”
Nessie hadn’t really answered her question, but Mariam moved on, desperate to know more about what was happening to her. Mariam opened her palm to reveal the newly repaired necklace. “Then perhaps you know more about this shell than you let on the other day. How did you know there was a message inside?”
Nessie’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully on Mariam’s face. “I watched her place it there.”
Mariam’s stomach tightened. “Why? What does it all mean? You saw the words she wrote. Why would she leave behind so cryptic a message about what could happen to me in seven days?”
Nessie’s expression shuttered. “I believe the message has something to do with her past and your future.”
The woman’s half answers were starting to frustrate Mariam. “I need to know more if I am ever to solve this riddle in time. Because something very odd is happening to me. Please, Nessie, tell me anything that might help me.”
“Your mother made her words cryptic because she believed you would figure them out.”
Mariam smiled faintly. “I’m honored she had such confidence in me, but I don’t feel the same way.” She paused as she brought her gaze to meet the older woman’s. “Did my mother have unusual talents?”
Mistress MacInnes frowned. “Such as?”
Mariam hesitated. If she showed Nessie that part of herself, would the woman understand and keep her secret, or would she run to the closest magistrate and declare her a witch? She had to decide between gaining more information or giving in to her fears. She thought of her mother, of all she had sacrificed for Mariam, and she made her decision.
Mariam closed her eyes and tried once again to summon the warmth that had engulfed her in the garden. The room suddenly became preternaturally still as a force inside her surged through her body. She opened her eyes and felt a wind begin to stir about her feet, gaining strength until it swirled around the entire great hall. The tapestries on the walls flapped, the dishes on the sideboards rattled, and the fire in the hearth extinguished as the warmth inside her increased. Then as suddenly as the power had come, it faded, leaving her spent and weak. Mariam slumped in the chair and once again sought out Nessie’s gaze.
It was not fear, but pride that reflected in the woman’s tired, aging eyes. She took Mariam’s hands in her own and said, “You, my dear, are exactly like your mother.”
Cameron stood and came to stand beside Mariam. An odd air of protectiveness charged his movements as he placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Is this what my mother meant when she said I would ‘come into my own’?”
Nessie’s expression softened. “Nay. I believe there is more. Now that I know you have her abilities, there is more I can tell you.”
Mariam held her breath.
“Your mother was born Moira Llyr. Her ancestral home was the Isle of May located in the north of the outer Firth of Forth. In years past, the isle was a common place for the Scottish people to travel for public devotion to the saints. But after the Scottish Reformation took hold, the Protestant bishop of St. Andrews decided to sell the isle into private ownership. When the new owner took possession, he forced your mother and her family to find refuge on the mainland in North Berwick.”
“Who bought the isle?”
“Your father.”
Mariam’s stomach fell. “Why would he want the