Healer by Linda Windsor

news. At the lake, Caden first thought Ronan had tired of the waiting and, with the increasingly bad turn of weather, started back to Glenarden. Perhaps the howling wind had muffled his signal. But then the group came upon his brother’s riderless horse wandering in the pass, the horn still tied to the saddle.
    Evidently Ronan had tried to make it back to the keep, but something had gone wrong. They’d searched along the pass for any sign of Ronan or his possible assailant until the weather and darkening skies made it impossible to continue. Not even the dogs had a clue, not so much as a scent, although they’d behaved oddly about the lake, circling the riders and barking incessantly. The master of the hounds was at a loss to explain or control their behavior until they were well away from Gowrys’ ruins. Only then did Gillis mutter something under his breath about spirits of the dead spooking his furred charges.
    Shouts from the towers bracketing the main gate heralded their slow approach. The welcoming shouts smacked of relief, for the hunting party should have been back by midafternoon for the feast. Perhaps Caden should have sent Alyn back with O’Toole to let his father know what had happened.
    Cursed hindsight. Caden excelled with it. But daylight fairly raced to fade, and the snow thickened in the pass until it was nigh impossible to see. Were Caden as superstitious as Gillis, he’d think death’s angel curtained it off.
    The aged oak gates of Glenarden swung open, preempting further speculation. Tarlach himself shuffled out into the weather, flanked by some of the clan elders. Caden couldn’t see his father’s face, but he knew his bent figure, broad as a bear and just as dangerous in a temper. And if he were not already in one, the clan chief would be upon finding out his precious heir was missing, probably dead. And his wrath would fall on Caden, who never measured up to Ronan.
    Caden steeled himself, his fingers tightening on the reins of the riderless dappled stallion walking next to his own steed. God forgive him, he loved Ronan as a brother. Yet there was a part of Caden, a poison green part, that hated him and would not mourn the loss. Ronan had no fault in Tarlach’s failing eyes. He’d fought like a warrior at age six. He was the unanimous choice of the lesser chieftains as Tarlach’s heir. He was a wise administrator, cautious … everything Caden was not. Nay, Caden would not miss him overmuch. Perhaps now was the chance to show Tarlach his second son had merit too.
    Eventually. For now, the present must be faced. For the first time, Caden noticed that even the wind had ceased its wail, as if in anticipation of a greater storm approaching.“Where is my son?” Tarlach’s roar pierced the silence.
    It took great effort not to remind the old man that two sons were present. “Ronan is missing, my lord father,” he said instead. “We searched till the light failed us, all to no avail.”
    Tarlach staggered back as though struck broadside with a sword. A wounded growl erupted from his throat. An attendant rushed to the old lord’s side, only to be shoved away. Tarlach tore the cloak away from his face, exposing his wild age-shot mane to the elements, and narrowed his eyes beneath the bush of his brow.
    “I’ll hear you inside.” No offer, no invitation. An order.
    “We looked … ” Alyn’s young voice broke. “We looked everywhere, Father.”
    In the torchlight Tarlach’s hardened features relaxed upon seeing his youngest son. “Aye, laddie, I’m sure you did. But come inside before you take a chill. My heart could not take the loss of another son.”
    “ If Ronan is lost, milord,” Caden said. It was a thin hope. One that might raise Tarlach’s esteem of him, if he found Ronan. At least there would be a body to mourn. “I give you my word,” he called to Tarlach as the old man turned to reenter the outer yard. “I will not rest until I find him.”
    Without acknowledgment,