Dragon's Moon

by Lucy Monroe

  Lais let out a Chrechte curse and Ciara had to turn her head to hide her smile this time. She felt badly for Mairi, but could not help being amused by Lais’s realization of the effect of his words.

  Maybe he would think twice before meddling between Ciara and Eirik in future. It was not as if there was something between them that needed meddling, either. Mind-melting kisses aside, Eirik could have no permanent place in her life.

  He was not looking for a mate, he had said so. And she did not want one. No mate to lose. No mate that would mean children she would love with everything left of her long-shattered heart.

  He would help her find the Faolchú Chridhe and that would be that.

  ’Twas too bad that she’d always been better at deceiving others than her herself. Because she could not make herself believe those words, not even a little bit.

  The flight to Balmoral Island was even more magical than the first time Ciara had ridden Eirik’s dragon. To be able to see the earth below in all its glorious color and the bright blue of the sky was astounding.

  The feel of the wind on her face combined with the bright sunlight was unlike anything she had ever experienced.

  The truth was, flying on the back of the dragon could become all too quickly something she craved.

  They flew even higher than they had the first time, no doubt Eirik not wanting his dragon to be but a dot in the sky to any who might see him from below.

  It was cold, but Ciara was fully dressed for this ride and Eirik had insisted she unfold her fur and blanket to wear like a double cloak. She’d scoffed, intending to shrug them off when they were in the air. Only she’d quickly discovered how very cold the summer air could be when the dragon flew so much faster than any horse she’d ever ridden. And the higher they went, the less the sun warmed her.

  She snuggled in her fur-lined plaid against the dragon’s neck and laughed with the sheer joy of living in that moment. She could not remember the last time she had felt such happiness and she did not care, or hope for it to last. For this minute in time, she was truly delighted to be alive.

  There was no worry about the Faolchú Chridhe, no concern about how easily Ciara lost herself in Eirik’s kisses, no secrets to hide or reveal as the case may be, simply Ciara and the dragon in the wide-open sky.

  Eirik threw his head back and roared, a sound that went right through his massive dragon’s body and vibrated Ciara’s as well. And she laughed, loving the sensation of sharing in his delight. Then, he cast fire, huge flames that filled her vision. It was the most incredible adventure of Ciara’s life.

  In that instant, she felt more connected to him than she had to anyone else…ever. She did not question how this could be, she simply enjoyed it for the temporary pleasure that it was.

  It took no time at all to fly to the island. However, they did not land on the beach Ciara was used to from the yearly trips to Balmoral Island she had made with her adopted family. Instead, Eirik brought Ciara to a deserted stretch of beach around the curve of the island.

  A guard of two men came out from the forest, their eyes big, their mouths dropped open in shock. With hair the color of the red sunset and looking vaguely familiar, the one on the left was a couple of inches taller and a bit broader than the one on the right. Neither could be discounted in a fight, though, she was sure.

  The Éan were consistently smaller in stature than the Faol, Eirik being the exception, but her father said they were fierce warriors and he accorded them the same respect he did the wolves among his clan soldiers.

  Thankfully, neither man lifted a weapon in threat. She did not want any of her adopted uncle’s warriors hurt because they thought to go against a dragon who happened to be their ally. Though the fact they had come out of the forest at all was odd, now that she thought about it.

  Chrechte warriors were fierce, but to challenge a dragon? Only, they did not look like they meant to challenge Eirik, did they?

  And surely Eirik’s dragon senses would have alerted him to their presence before he landed.

  Mulling over these inconsistencies and coming up with nothing to explain them, Ciara climbed off Eirik’s back with help from his tail just as she’d done the first time. As soon as she stood on the ground, she dropped both her makeshift cloak and the bundle of Eirik’s things she had held in her lap for the flight.

  Her hand rested against the handle of her dirk. Something strange was going on here, but she sensed no danger.

  A flash of crimson light almost lost in the brightness of the sun heralded Eirik’s shift back into his human form. Neither of the men drawing nearer showed any surprise at this. In fact, the shorter one smiled in what had to be welcome.

  Ciara cut a quick look to Eirik, but she saw no recognition in his features for the guards. Which was not to say he did not know them, his face was simply void of any expression at all.

  Hers might not reflect the joy they’d both experienced in the air, but it no doubt showed her confusion.

  As the men came closer, recognition dawned. These were Chrechte warriors she’d often seen in the company of her adopted uncle, the Balmoral. She believed the taller one’s name to be Gart and his companion’s was Artair.

  Even so, why had Eirik landed here and revealed his dragon to them?

  “Prince Eirik,” Gart said with a bow.

  For a wolf to bow, he must hold another in great esteem. Ciara slid a sidelong glance at Eirik and wondered what he had done to gain such respect. Besides shift into a dragon.

  She almost laughed at her own naïveté.

  “It is Eirik only, now.”

  “In the company of humans, perhaps,” the Balmoral warrior conceded.

  Eirik merely inclined his head.

  The smaller warrior, Artair, grinned. “Your dragon is amazing, Prince Eirik.”

  “Aye, each time I take to the sky in that form, I know it.”

  The two men nodded, their expressions full of awe.

  “Lais and a human woman formerly of the MacLeod clan will be arriving by boat in a couple of hours.”

  “They are welcome.”

  Eirik inclined his head. “Your laird does not expect us.”

  “Nay,” Gart confirmed.

  And the more they conversed, the angrier Ciara became. These men clearly knew about Eirik, that he was prince of the Éan and his dragon was no surprise to them, either. Though seeing it for the first time had clearly been so.

  None of this matched with the secrecy still surrounding the Éan among her clan, nor Eirik’s declared intent to keep his dragon and position as prince under wraps particularly.

  She grabbed his arm and tugged him a few steps away from the guards.

  “You trust the Balmoral more than the Sinclair?” she demanded in a furious whisper as the import of the situation became plain.

  “They are Faol, they can hear your whispering.”

  “I know that.” She glared. “You said you did not want the Faol to know of your dragon form.”

  “Niall and Guaire know of my dragon, as do a handful of your father’s most trusted soldiers.”

  “So, what are you saying, the Balmoral and a select few of his Chrechte know as well?” she asked sarcastically.

  But Eirik nodded. “Exactly. Your uncle knows of my dragon as do the four soldiers who share this beach’s watch.”

  “Anyone else?” she demanded, though she knew it was not her business to do so.

  Eirik raised one sardonic brow, but he answered. “His lady, your mother’s sister, the Balmoral’s second and Drustan’s mate, your father’s sister.”

  “Why the Chrechte who are assigned to this beach?”

  “In case of a situation just like this one. Should the Sinclair need to get word to the Balmoral quickly, I am their best hope.”

  There was no denying that truth. “I think even more than they realize.” Eirik raised his brows in question, but she shook her head. “We can discuss it later. For now, we had best begin our trek to the castle.”

/>   The only way to the castle was a narrow switchback path up the side of the cliff overlooking the ocean. She wasn’t looking forward to the walk. She might be Chrechte, but the long horse ride from the keep to the beach was tiring. Her ride on the dragon had drained the last of her reserves, though for a very different reason.

  It had been so wonderfully pleasurable, she’d exhausted herself with joy.

  “We will wait for night. Lais will have arrived with the boat by then. I will fly you and Mairi to the keep. Lais will allow her the short ride on my dragon to preserve her strength. Besides, he will fly beside me.”

  Right. They would have to wait and see if Mairi was really Lais’s mate, Ciara thought with a heavy dose of sarcasm. She almost snorted her disbelief but kept the unladylike sound inside her.

  Warriors and their games of the mind. As if women were so easily fooled.

  “I thought you wanted to get to the keep sooner. That is why we didn’t just fly the whole way at night, is it not?”

  “The MacLeod soldiers in the forest waylaid our original plans, if you will remember.”

  “I suppose.”

  He laid what she thought was a very proprietary hand on her neck. “I am not certain we should go to the keep tonight and not wait for the morning now as well.”

  Chapter 16

  In critical moments even the very powerful have need of the weakest.

  —AESOP

  “What?” She should step away, but she did not. “Why?”

  “I can sleep here in my dragon form more easily and guard your dreams this night.” He frowned. “You look almost as exhausted as you did before your sleep last night. I do not like it.”

  She gave in to the urge to lean into his touch. “I don’t, either, but it will take more than one good rest to recover from months of hardly any sleep at all.”

  She didn’t have to be a healer to know that, though Abigail had warned her of this very thing as they said good-bye back at the keep.

  Remembering the potent sleep Ciara had experienced with his dragon before, she didn’t even consider protesting. Surely speaking to the Balmoral would be just as good in the morning.

  “I am surprised to hear you admit as much.”

  “Why? I am no arrogant warrior, certain I am impervious to weakness.” She was all too aware of how vulnerable she was to the dreams and visions.

  She had lived with it for most of her life after all. He could not know just how great the gift of his dragon’s protection of her dreams was.

  His chuckle warmed her through. “You are an impertinent lass, I think.”

  “Forthright, mayhap.”

  “Bossy.”

  “Bold.”

  A throat clearing reminded her that they were far from alone.

  Blushing, she stepped away from Eirik’s touch and turned to face the Balmoral guards. “I apologize. We did not mean to ignore you.”

  Eirik made a sound suspiciously like a snort, but when she looked at him with a frown, he looked as innocent as a babe.

  She shook her head. “Do not think to bamboozle me with your appearance of blamelessness.”

  He shrugged, but the smile tickling at the corner of his mouth pleased her.

  “If we might offer some refreshment?” Artair asked, his expression indicating that he had been listening with avid interest to Ciara and Eirik’s conversation.

  The poorly suppressed mirth on Gart’s face implied he’d been likewise engaged.

  Nosy wolves. Her mother often said there were no secrets among the Faol, but her father always disagreed. Talorc said that a clever enough woman could always keep secrets and Abigail always blushed.

  “Thank you for the offer; a cup of watered wine would be most appreciated.” She gave the Balmoral soldier her best smile.

  Honestly, she wouldn’t mind a small repast as well, but she would not ask for what they might not easily provide.

  Eirik growled beside her and the bigger warrior, Gart, scowled first at her and then his companion, but he turned to lead the way back toward the forest.

  Lais pulled against the oars, making a direct line for Balmoral Island. Mairi had been quiet since they got on the boat and Eirik had leapt into the sky with Ciara on the dragon’s back.

  Lais was so proud of Mairi’s ability to mask her scent, but it was clear the effort had cost her. He was content to let her rest in the stern of the boat, settled as comfortably as he could make her with furs, a skin of watered wine and some food.

  She nibbled in silence on some cheese, looking at him, then the water, then the sky where Ciara and Eirik were but a dot and then back at Lais.

  He could see a question in her eyes, but fearing he knew what it was, he did not prompt her to ask it.

  She offered him the cheese. “Would you like some?”

  “Nay.” He was hungry, but he would not have her feed him.

  She needed her rest and the act would be too intimate, it would give more than his body sustenance. It would give nourishment to his eagle’s desires for her as a mate as well.

  She sighed and wrapped the cheese in cloth before putting it in the satchel Lais had brought with him on this journey. She adjusted the Sinclair plaid their laird had gifted her with before they left the keep, smoothing her hands along the pleats, clearly pleased to be wearing different colors than the MacLeod.

  She settled again, but this time maintained a steady regard on him. “Is it because I am not a wolf?”

  He should have known that his Mairi would need no prompting. But that was not the question he expected, though he supposed it could be considered a form of it.

  “Nay. While humans are more fragile than shifting Chrechte, you have proven yourself to be strong of mind and spirit.”

  “You are attracted to me.” She sounded very confident, but then she had reason to be on that particular front. “It is not just your eagle that wants me.”

  “No.”

  “Then why?”

  He could have lied and said that he simply did not want a mate, but while there was a place for deceit, this was not it.

  “I do not deserve a mate.” There. He had said it.

  “How can you say so? You are an amazing man.”

  “Because I healed you.”

  “No, because I can trust you not to hurt me.”

  “I am not the only man who can give you pleasure.”

  “You are the only one I want to do so.”

  He should not be so fiercely happy to hear such a vow, but he was. “You are young. That will change.”

  “It won’t. I may not shift into a wolf, but I am Chrechte and there is no other for a Chrechte once they have mated.” Her chin set at a mulish angle and she let him see her glare.

  “We have not mated.”

  “Close enough.”

  “No.” He’d been damn careful to make sure it was not close enough.

  “Tell me why.”

  “I was a member of the Donegal clan, before I went to live with the Éan.”

  “You mean when you came to the Sinclairs?”

  “No, that is more recent.” He considered stopping there. He had not spilled his people’s secrets yet, but he knew he could trust them with her. And he owed her his secrets, if he could give her nothing else.

  “The Éan lived in the forest, as a separate tribe. We were hunted by a secret society of the Faol.”

  “The Fearghall. My father and his cronies belong. He thinks any shifter that isn’t a wolf doesn’t deserve to live.”

  Lais should feel no shock at her words, but his breath froze in his chest nonetheless. “Your father belongs to this society…the Fearghall?”

  A misnomer if ever there was one as it meant superior in valor and from what Lais knew of these Faol, they had not true valor to them. He had never heard the society named before though, since he had not been in the inner circle. He wondered if Galen had ever let it slip to Ciara.

  “Yes. Some of the Fearghall believe only the ravens should die be
cause they are not birds of prey, but others, like my father, believe all who shift into an animal different than his have no right to life.”

  “He’s an idiot.” But a dangerous one.

  She nodded sadly. “He is.”

  “I, too, was an idiot.” The time had come for the full truth of his past.

  “How?”

  “There were members of the Donegal pack that believed like your father. They hated the Éan simply because we are different.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “I am the one who should be sorry. I believed Rowland’s lies, that the ravens killed my parents.”

  “But your parents must have been of the Éan for you to be an eagle.”

  “One was, the other human. Rowland was convinced I was human as well. He killed my parents, but convinced me ravens had done it and fed my hatred of the ravens.”

  “You never told him you were an eagle.”

  “No.”

  “Because you knew that you could not trust him.” She sounded so sure and once again her trust in Lais touched him deeply.

  “I think so, now, yes. Then, I was just ashamed of being weak, being what I thought was the last of my race.”

  “There are other eagles?”

  “Not many, but yes, there are some. I had my coming-of-age without the Clach Gealach Gra.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It meant that if I had my way and had destroyed it, I would not be a healer.” He looked away from her, over the water, its gray surface telling him nothing new. “I do not know if I can give my mate children, if I can pass on my eagle.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Anya-Gra said I was healed by the sacred stone, but I don’t know if she meant my heart or my body.”

  “Who is Anya-Gra?”

  “The spiritual leader among the Éan.”

  “If the stone gave you the power of healing, surely it healed anything else.”

  “I thought so at first, too, but now that I am charged with healing others, I know better than most that power comes with a cost and that healing is rarely complete with Chrechte power alone.”

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t deserve to be healed completely,” he admitted.

  “Now you are being an idiot.”