out.
Alone, Katherine sat at the side table, lifted the small bowl of honey and swirled it over top of the hot oats. She slid a spoonful into her mouth. Delicious, and it tasted exactly like Mum used to make on those cold winter mornings when she’d been a child. Her chest throbbed and she blinked furiously, suddenly fighting tears. Grief hit at the most unexpected times, when a thought or memory fluttered. She and Marie talked often about Mum, but her sister wasn’t here to share her current burden. Her mother’s passing at forty-five had been far too young, but cancer struck no matter what age. At least they’d had three years together before her illness had finally taken her.
Scrubbing a hand over her face, she murmured, “I miss you Mum. I wish you could have lived and traveled to this glorious place.”
The wind whistled through the window the maid had left partially open and lifted her hair across her face. Soft words whispered through. “I am always with you.”
“Who is that?” She spun about then hurried to the window and planted her hands on the stone windowsill. Thick tree branches scraped against the side of the castle and birds twittered from within the thick green foliage, but not a soul was in sight. She opened the window wider and sunshine beamed in, hit the looking glass and sent prisms of colors shimmering all around her.
“You’re alive and well, my daughter.” More whispered words, but coming from where?
“Mum?” She searched the chamber but saw nothing. “Are you really here?”
“Yes, but I can’t draw together a form you can see unless there are enough elements in the air to do so. The last time we spoke, I managed it by bringing forth mist and moonlight.”
“I can’t believe you’re here.” She grasped her chest and tried to breathe through the pounding of her heartbeat. “Does that mean all my dreams are real?”
“Yes, and I’m here now because you need me. Death came but couldn’t take you, not when you and I both begged the fae to intervene. To ensure your survival the fae bound you to another here in the past, the warrior, John MacDonald. You must keep him close as the fae instructed you to.”
“I know I’m supposed to keep him close, but bound? What do you mean by bound?”
“As you drew your last breath, a piece of your soul lifted free and bound itself to him. You cannot live if he doesn’t.”
“Holy moly.” That she’d never seen in her dreams, yet she couldn’t deny the depth of their bond. She thrived on being close to him, but why would the fae do that? “Mum, his future is set. He’s meant for another.”
“Your soul would not have been bound to his if that were so.” Her mother’s voice drifted to the area behind the looking glass propped on the side table.
Katherine stepped up to the glass and gasped at her own reflection. Her white-blond hair shimmered and her skin sparkled. Blue eyes, a midnight shade, twinkled as bright as precious sapphires. She patted her flushed cheeks. “What’s happening to me?”
“Your fae blood strengthens now you’re in this time and closer to the fae realm. Embrace that part of you and allow the visions you’ve had to guide you. They will come when they’re needed, and only then.” Warm air swished around and soothed her. “You must accept your place here in the past as Marie has done. You and your sister are two halves of one whole, the beginning and the end, and I wish for you the life you should always have—”
The door banged open and John stood there, his chest heaving, his gaze moving frantically around the room then over her. “Why are you glowing?”
“My mother is here. Why are you back?”
“Because my chest aches and I can feel your distress as if it were my own.” He closed the door and grasped her hand. “Where is she? Your mother?”
“I can’t stay, Katherine,” her mother whispered, “and only you can hear me. Blood of my blood and no other. Stay safe. As the fae