the Romans, and brought back to Dundaire by one of Tipton’s ancestors, the same woman went back to fetch Mariah’s and Tacitus’s bodies. But neither were found. Tacitus was carried away by his men, buried somewhere along the Vallum Antonini. But Mariah…. As a mother she….”
“Her soul went in search of her son.”
“Aye.”
He studied Sarina as she sat in silence, appearing to take in all that he’d told her.
As she shifted on the settee, a stray lock of her gold hair fell free from the chignon at her nape.
Reaching over, he tucked the hair back into place, the soft strand like silk against his fingers. It may be only two days that he’d kent her, but in the deepest depths of his core, he was more than certain he could no longer live without her. “Mariah lives here. In the dungeons.”
“She’s bound, isn’t she? Bound in chains?”
“Verra much so.”
“My father heard her wails. In his letters he referred to the worst of them, to the nights when she would lash out against the world and attempt to break free from her agony, rattling the chains that bound her soul, as incidents.”
Incidents were a tame label for the moments when Mariah would show her true harrowing self. But still, even to this day, he couldnae blame her for doing so. “If it werenae for Mariah, I wouldnae be here. She is the matriarch of my branch of the clan. She is the mother who gave my line life.”
Sarina ran her fingers over her lips. Her mouth opened as if she was about to speak, but instead of uttering a single word, she bolted from the settee. “That’s it!”
“What?”
“The teeth.” She patted her mouth. “I don’t know where my brother fits into all this, but those bloody teeth of his are the answer. And my father must have known it. That is why he put himself in harm’s way.”
He still was having trouble following. “Forgive me, love, but I dunnae ken what ye are saying.”
She brought her hand to her head and paced. “By my father dying, it forced me to come here, which in turned forced Nevan here, which brought the teeth back to where they are needed to be.”
“But why didnae yer father merely ask Nevan to send them back?”
“I don’t think it would have worked that way,” Sarina said. “Some curses, from what I know from my studies, can only be lifted if the reverse spell contains something genuine, like true love, or sincerity. My brother truly loves those damned teeth. I’m certain the little annoying monster would give his life for them if he had to.”
A protector, thought Campbell. A true, innocent soul who would do anything to protect Tacitus and Mariah. “Somehow, and I dunnae yet ken that somehow, yer brother is connected to those teeth. And more than just the fact his grandfather unearthed them and secured a way for them to pass into his care.”
“And now all but two of those damn teeth are missing!” Sarina shook her head, frustration evident in her amber-hued gaze.
“Have no fear,” Campbell said. “We will find the teeth, even if it means tearing down every inch of this house.”
The walls rumbled.
Sarina gasped. She placed her hand on her waist. “Oh, no…”
“What, my love?” Campbell was on his feet in an instant.
“When I sent him to bed, Nevan said he would search the house from bottom to top to find his teeth.”
The dungeon. “But he doesnae even ken where the dungeons are.”
“When it comes to those teeth, my brother needs no map, no permission, no nothing to do what he believes must be done.”
“Then I’ll find him. I promise.”
Campbell was out of the library nae a second later, running for the dungeons.
Chapter 13
Sarina was not going to let Campbell leave her behind. Nevan was her brother, her responsibility. And leaving his fate in the hands of a man she’d only known for two days, was not happening. Even if she did trust the marquis.
She dashed out of the library.
If the wolf gods had any mercy, they’d have her find Nevan still in the green room, his box of teeth at his side.
Two steps forward and she froze.
The glare of candlelight flickering off an object in the center of the hall caught her attention, forced her to lower her gaze to the four black tiles in the middle of the floor.
Nevan’s silver box.
The tarnished tin sat empty, turned on its side, its lid nowhere to be found.