Chapter 81— The Devil’s Bargain

Chapter 81— The Devil’s Bargain
The air outside the castle was sharp with the bite of early winter. Frost clung to the edges of the stone walls and glittered in the moonlight like a thousand watchful eyes.

Mairi wrapped her cloak tight as she hurried down the narrow path that led into the forest. Her heart hammered against her ribs, not from fear — but from exhilaration.

She had heard everything.

Every word that dripped from Isla’s lips like poison disguised as truth. From the year 2025. A book. A prophecy. A chant to go home.

Her breath came out in clouds as she half-ran, half-slid along the path. Her boots caught on frozen roots, branches clawed at her skirts, but she didn’t stop. Not even when she thought she heard footsteps behind her. The moonlight flickered through the trees, and for the first time in weeks, she smiled.

By the time she reached the glen where the earth opened into a hollow of ancient stones, she was panting. The air here always felt heavier — older — as if it had soaked up every whispered spell ever spoken in secret.

“Mairi.”

The voice slithered from the shadows before she saw him.

Ruadhán Dubh stepped into the light of her lantern, his dark robes brushing against the frostbitten grass. His eyes caught the light like coals that refused to die.
“You come running to me in the dead of night,” he said. “What has set the fire under your feet?”

She stopped only when she stood close enough to see her breath mingle with his. “I know what she is.”
Ruadhán’s brow arched. “Do you now?”

“I heard her,” Mairi hissed. “She confessed everything — to Vaelen and Fenella. She’s not from here. Not from this time. She said she came from the year 2025, that she fell through time itself. She spoke of a book — one that tells the story of Lachlan and Isla, of her own death, of a prophecy that ties them together. She even spoke of a chant — one meant to take her back.”

She smiled now, her teeth flashing white in the dark. “She thinks she can escape her fate.”

Ruadhán watched her for a long moment, unreadable. Then, slowly, he began to walk around her, his presence circling like a wolf testing the air.

“And you believe her?” he asked at last.

“She believes it,” Mairi said. “That’s all that matters. If I can make Lachlan believe it too, if I can convince the court that she’s dabbling in forbidden magics, she’ll hang before the week is out.”

Ruadhán’s lips twitched — the ghost of a smile, or perhaps the barest tremor of pity. “And what do you hope to gain by this?”

“What I was promised,” she snapped. “You said if I helped you destroy her, you’d help me rise. I was supposed to be his queen. But she stole everything — his attention, his compassion, his legacy. I want her gone.”

Ruadhán clasped his hands behind his back, pacing a slow circle. “A woman from another time,” he murmured. “Interesting. The threads of fate twist in ways even I cannot predict. Perhaps the gods themselves are testing me through her.”

He stopped suddenly and looked at Mairi. “You said she mentioned a chant?”

Mairi nodded quickly. “Something about time and binding. A spell she said would take her home. I didn’t catch all the words.”

“That won’t matter,” Ruadhán said softly. “If she’s chanting strange phrases at the stones, the people will think it witchcraft. Lachlan will have no choice but to act, especially now that the bond is broken.”

Mairi smirked. “He’s already suspicious. The bond mark is fading from his chest. She’s growing weaker. She doesn’t even feel it anymore.”

Ruadhán tilted his head. “Ah. Then the magic runs both ways.” He stepped closer, his eyes glinting. “You’ve done well to bring this to me, my dear. The trap has been set. Now we simply need her to speak those words where others can hear.”

“And you’ll keep your promise?” Mairi pressed.
Ruadhán reached out, brushing his gloved thumb across her chin. “If Isla falls, so too will the bond that protects the laird. The prophecy will fulfill itself — and when it does, the throne of Strathclyde will need a steady hand to guide it.”

He smiled faintly. “Perhaps yours.”

Mairi’s pulse quickened. “Tell me what to do.”

“Watch her,” he said. “Stay close, but unseen. She’ll seek the stones again soon — she has no choice. When she does, bring word to me. I will make certain the right eyes see her for what she is.”

He turned away, his cloak whispering through the grass like a shadow given shape.

“And Mairi,” he added over his shoulder, “be careful. You think you play a game of ambition, but time is a crueler foe than any queen. Do not forget that.”

Mairi clenched her fists. “I don’t care about time,” she said. “I care about winning.”

Ruadhán’s laughter rolled through the glen like thunder, cold and amused. “Then pray, little one,” he murmured. “For when time moves, it does not care who stands in its path.”

Mairi watched him vanish into the mist, her heart pounding, her hands trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation. She had done it — she finally had what she needed.

Isla’s truth would be her downfall.

And Mairi would be there to watch it burn.