Read Online Incarnate: The Moray Druids #3 (Highland Historical) by Kerrigan Byrne - Free Book Online

though it was him that had found deliverance in her presence.  He’d felt more wealthy in that hovel in the forest than he ever had in the halls of his own castle.  A chance to be who he truly was.  No pretenses, no expectations, and no barriers.  He wanted nothing more from this life then to be given the chance to show her the same kind of freedom. 
    A love that never bound, but liberated. 
    Cursing the prophecy, the Fates, the Wyrd Sisters and the fucking gods, he turned to his beloved sister, a void of his own opening inside his heart.
    “Keep me strong,” he ground out a command and a plea in one breath. 
    She met his gaze with her soft blue eyes, clarity and determination sparking in their depths.  “Nay,” she murmured.
    Malcolm flinched, and then glared a warning at her.  “What are ye saying?”
    Grasping his elbow, Morgana turned them both toward his keep, where Badb and Nemain touched down on the flagstones of his home.  Lightning sheeted across the Highland sky, warning that their time was running out. 
    “We take the fight to them, Malcolm,” Morgana said, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead against his shoulder as though gathering strength. 
    Gritting his teeth, Malcolm nodded, lowering them to the ground on his piece of earth.  “It’s time we end this,” he agreed.  “One way or another.”
    “I’m going with you,” Kenna announced, taking a moment to break from the line of archers. “Lower me down.”
    “Nay,” Malcolm held his hand out to her.  “Ye stay where ye are and help the Berserkers fend off the attack.  They need yer fire.”
    Kenna stood upon the wall, her amber skirts flapping against her legs in the increasingly violent winds.  “I know you could have loved her.”  Her eyes glowed with the fire of prophecy.  “I’m sorry that you could not keep Vían and also your word as a Druid.  But your decisions today will echo for millennia, one way or the other.”
    Her words affected Malcolm more than he could ever have expected.  So much so that all he could summon for her was a nod before he turned with his sister toward Dun Moray.  It wasn’t sadness that welled up inside him as he stalked the thoroughfare of Moray Village toward where Badb stood, clutching her broom in one hand and the book in the other.
    Rage.  A helpless, impotent fury Malcolm had never had to grapple with in his entire life.  He was a de Moray.  The King of the Highland people.  His family had held off the Vikings, the Romans, and the English with their might and magick. 
    How was it that this one crone and her coven were more dangerous than all the sword-wielding warriors who’d been after this isle since the beginning?  How could it be possible that no matter which side won the day, the ultimate loss would be his?  He’d always done everything required of him.  Respected the earth.  Studied his craft.  Learned herbs, potions, incantations, leadership, justice, and mercy.  Some of those lessons had been hard-won.  Others had come easily. 
    But after decades of sacrifice for his people and his Goddess, he was denied the only thing that truly mattered in this world.  The one thing that would strengthen and solidify his power and allow him to become the man, the King , he was meant to be.
    Love. 
    It was love that saved the souls of the mated Berserkers who now cherished and protected his kinswomen.  Malcolm craved such love.  The love of a woman willing to sacrifice her eternal soul for his sake.  The rare emotion that filled in the cracks of one’s being and fortified the weaknesses with a power greater than any other. 
    Hatred boiled in the absence of that love, filling him with a dark power that surged dangerously just beneath the surface. 
    “Keep Nemain busy,” he instructed Morgana.  “Her fire is useless against your water.  Draw from the Loch and drown her if need be.”
    “What are you going to do?” Morgana asked. 
    “Whatever is