Daughter of Winter by Corina Douglas

Author:Corina Douglas [Douglas, Corina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780473512873
Publisher: Burning Legacies Publishing
Published: 2020-02-29T16:00:00+00:00

16

Brydie

I felt my skin bead with sweat as the blood roared in my ears. Gage ground out a sharp oath behind me. I was thrust forward onto the cold marble tiles, my head shoved between my knees.

The movement caused a sharp stab of agony, a reminder of the injury I’d received earlier when the back of my head had hit the floor. The pain waved away the fog, and I reached up to push Gage’s hand aside, lifting my head to glare at him.

My voice was a thin reed. “How do I have a tattoo on my back?”

“You were born with it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense! How has it always been there—I would have seen it!”

“It is a legacy passed down to every Daughter of Winter and only becomes visible when you are the target of the prophecy.” His lips firmed as he added, “In your case, it was when Nora died.”

The thought of a tattoo being drawn on my back at the same time as her death was macabre. I felt violated that this had occurred without my control. Inhaling through my teeth, I fought the urge to scream. Nothing I said would change what had already happened.

I pushed myself to my feet, tugging my shirt back down to cover my bare midriff and turned to face him. His features were still, watchful, as if sensing that I wavered on a thin edge.

“If your tattoo means guardian, what does mine mean? Daughter? Descendent?”

Gage tilted his head to the side as he considered me, a thin scar on his jawline catching the light. “It means love.”

“Love?” It wasn’t what I’d expected.

“You are the daughter of Cailleach and her lover—a descendant of her own child, many generations removed, and who she has protected absolutely by tying your bloodline to a powerful prophecy. It is a fitting brand to carry.”

The characters on the tattoo had looked vaguely familiar. Similar to Japanese but different, the lines longer, the characters simpler. “I didn’t recognize the language. What is it?”

One of his dark eyebrows rose. “The only language that the Celts used—the Ogham Script.”

My jaw dropped as my mind struggled to dismantle the ramifications of that statement. The thoughts and emotions flitting around my head were a jumbled mess. Logic was screaming that this was all lies. What Nora had shared in her letter was unbelievable, easy to pass off as the ramblings of a crazed old woman. But the pendant and the tattoo were hard to ignore. So were the events from earlier this evening.

Gage stood silently, allowing me time to digest what I’d just learned, but I felt judged, and I couldn’t stand to be in such close proximity a moment longer. Gripping my hands together to still their trembling, I said sharply, “You left a pot on the stove. We should get back.”

Without waiting for his response, I turned on my heel and strode away. He was a dark shadow at my back, wordlessly following. Now that I was aware of it,

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