“Once again Jeanne was in the brightly lit burial chamber. The woman with the Maxwell features was still there, gazing at her with compassion. Jeanne marveled at the lady’s likeness. Looking at Mairi of Shiels was like staring at her own reflection in Saint Mary’s Loch on a day without wind. “Was that destiny I saw?” she whispered to the ghostly figure. The woman remained silent. “Speak,” Jeanne cried in desperation. “Tell me what you want of me.” Mairi stared at her with haunted eyes. Jeanne’s ...forehead wrinkled in concentration. What was the woman trying to tell her? “Help me, my lady,” she begged. “Give me a sign.” A gust of cold wind blew back the folds of Jeanne’s cloak and set the candle flames flickering. Suddenly, inspiration seized her. She reached out to clutch the woman’s shoulders, but her hands touched only air. Mairi was gone as were the torches and glowing candles. Only the stone remained, bathed in the strange netherworld light that came from within.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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