The Selkie Sorceress (Seal Island Trilogy, Book 3) Read Free Page A

herbs that worked their way into your tincture. I follow their lead and research the combinations later to see what they mean.” Tara eyed the small tincture dwarfed in Sam’s broad palm. “I know it seems silly. How could something so small protect anyone? But I’d feel better if you kept it on you.”
    “I don’t think it’s silly.” Sam tucked it in his shirt pocket. “But I might take the ribbon off later.” His lips twitched. “It could hurt my reputation.”
    Tara rolled her eyes. At least he still had his sense of humor. “You can take the bow off. It was only on there because it was supposed to be a Christmas present.”
    Sam lowered his hand to his side, his expression suddenly guarded. “You made me a Christmas present?”
    Tara nodded. “I thought you’d come back for Christmas.”
    “Why?”
    Tara held his gaze. “I figured we were your closest friends, your family.” When Sam looked away, Tara angled her head. “Who did you spend Christmas with, Sam?”
    Sam lifted a shoulder. “It’s just another day of the year.”
    It was as she’d suspected; he’d spent Christmas alone. He’d probably spent a lot of Christmases alone. She knew what it was like to be alone, to not have anyone. “You could have come back, Sam. You could have spent the holidays with us.”
    Sam slipped his sunglasses back on. “Thank you for the present, Tara.” He tipped his head at her. “I’ll be on my way.”
     

     
    GLENNA STOOD AT her window, scanning the fields leading back to the village to see if she’d been followed, but there were only a few blonde cows grazing in the sunlight. Yanking her scarlet curtains closed, she strode to the hearth. She didn’t have time for matches and sod.
    She threw out her arms. Sparks hissed from her fingertips. Flames sizzled and crackled to life. They rose, licking at the paint around the hearth, stretching up to the mantle where a dozen black candles were lit. Heat filled the cottage, and fingers of smoke curled into the room.
    The flames shifted, grabbing at the air with greedy hands. The black candles flickered erratically. The red curtains flapped, reaching toward her mother as she stepped out of the flames. Moira’s green-gold eyes met Glenna’s. “Hello, darling.”
    “Mother,” Glenna said, taking in the waves of gold silk that formed to her mother’s lush figure. Blond waves tumbled to Moira’s waist, where her dress gathered before pooling down from a glittering topaz clasp.
    Her mother’s hair had lightened over the years, as her magic grew. But when Moira had stolen Nuala’s powers in November, her hair had warmed to the color of pale corn silk. It didn’t help that Moira had also obtained Nuala’s incomparable beauty. Her skin was smooth, her lips full, her eyes wide and luminous.
    She looked almost the same age as Glenna now.
    Teacups quivered, clattering in the cupboard as Moira sashayed into the room. She lifted one of Glenna’s orange pillar candles, tipping it and letting the hot wax drip onto the bronze plate. “What have they found so far?”
    “They found Brigid’s pelt.”
    “Did they?” Moira didn’t even bother to look up. “How nice.”
    “It wasn’t in very good shape.”
    “What a pity.” Moira set the candle down and wandered over to the window facing the sea. Beneath the sill, Glenna’s altar was covered in herbs, satchels, stones and spells. “You’ve been working hard, my dear.”
    “I have.”
    Moira glanced up. “Sam is very good at what he does, isn’t he?”
    “He is. But her pelt is the only clue he’s found so far.”
    Glenna tensed when Moira picked up her athame—a ceremonial dagger used only for spells. Moira tested the sharpness of the blade against her crimson fingernail and set it back down. Glenna let out a breath when she walked away from it. “He still has no idea where she is?”
    “None.”
    “Good.” Moira’s lips curved as she walked to Glenna and brushed a long brown lock back over her