Charity knocked the chair over in her haste to get outside. Nothing seemed out of sorts in the little coastal village where they made their home. The scent of yeast from the clapboard bakery that was cozied against the side of her herbal shop glazed the morning air with Christmas goodies. Everything was so quiet, even the wash of the little stream farther up the hillock in the woods behind the pub. She loved living here in the small village, loved their cottage only a few steps away from both the herbal shop and the old shed Toren had equipped with a forge and all the tools of his new trade. Highland sorcerer turned blacksmith.
She glanced at the sky, at the low clouds, brewing a storm over the sea. Perhaps that’s all that stirred upon the air, giving her an uneasy feeling. A coming storm.
“I can’t do it. Leave me alone!” Alexander ran out of the blacksmith shed, long thin legs eating up the grassy road between her shop and the smithy, dark curling hair pulling in the wind. Her son, as strong-willed as he was determined.
Toren stepped out of the shed to frown after the boy. Though he’d lived in her century for twelve years, he still looked every bit the imposing Highland warrior. A sheen of sweat already dampened the neck of his T-shirt as he’d been stoking the forge, readying the heat to begin the morning’s work. He’d turned an ancient skill into a thriving business. The authentic-crafted swords and blades from Highland Bladesmiths were highly sought by the gentry who desired personalized family crest inscriptions, and collectors wanting a replica of history alike. That Toren infused each piece with a little sorcery for endurance and shine didn’t hurt either, though that wasn’t exactly touted in the catalogues.
“You’re pushing him too hard.” Charity strode across the road. Hiding his frustration from her was impossible. She read every expression on Toren’s face.
“’Twas an easy task I set for him and he could not do it. Light the fire with his sorcery and he could not manage it.”
“With a lighter?” She arched a brow, which only made his jaw clench.
“I would feel better if he could fend for himself.”
“He can fend for himself. Geez, Highlander, it’s not like we’re in a big city. What can happen? You’ve taught him everything about woodskill you could have.”
“I mean fend for himself with magic.”
“I know what you meant.”
“Every child of my clan came into their magic well before Alexander’s age. He’s too old. He’ll never be able to learn all he needs to—”
“You’re not being fair. Every child in your clan came into their power eight hundred years ago when the land was teeming with magic. Not to mention the added enhancement of the Fae. You can’t compare Alexander’s progress to that. Pushing him won’t do any good.”
“And coddling him will?”
Charity planted her fists on her hips and stared up into her husband’s handsome features. She adored the lug, but sometimes his stubborn head was too thick. “We know his magic will come. Otherwise he won’t be able to jump into his future early to fight the Sifts. His magic will manifest when it’s ready. Be patient.”
“I want him prepared. His future self is fighting those beasts. ‘Tis my responsibility as his father to see that he will survive that.”
“He will.”
“How do ye know?”
“Because I can’t let myself think anything differently.”
Toren immediately softened. Worry lines creased the bridge of his nose. He enfolded her in his arms. “Forgive me. Ye’re being so brave over our son’s future. I just wish—”
“That we could be there with him fighting?”
He rested his chin on the top of her head and began tracing circles across her back. “Aye.”
“I wish that too.” She smiled against his chest. “Would it be so awful to create a rift and go see how he fares in the future?”
“Nay, but dangerous. If a Sift were to feel the pattern of our disruption within a time rift, it could follow us back to Alexander… The best chance he has is for us to remain here and teach him all we know.” He lifted her chin so that she would meet his eyes. “My brothers and Edeen will not allow any harm to come to him.”
She smiled and a pang of longing burrowed into her heart. “Nor will Lenore.”
Toren continued stroking her back. “You miss her.”
She nodded.
“Aye.” His sigh rumbled through his chest. All of his siblings were gone into the future as well. They only had each other. And their son. “Worry naught. Once Alexander has taken care of the threat to the future—and he will—we’ll see him again and know that his future is safe. We’ll see them all again.”
“But what if—“
His lips came down upon hers, crushing the questions that were really too frightening to dwell upon.