For the rest of the evening, the three lazed about the chamber together. It had been a long day for all of them. After some disagreement, they agreed Lan and Gráinne would return to Port Firth the next day to find MacMoragh while Caera remained to learn what she could. Caera would have Caleb escort her as far as the town when the clan leaders announced their decisions. From Lan’s early estimates, however, the ship would be full to capacity and have more than enough crew members to assure safe sailing. “It may take more than one trip to bring all the settlers to Incorrigible,” he announced.
“That would be the best news we could get, no?”
“Yes. And if we combine the trip back with a stop in a trade port, it could be very profitable, as well. Master . . . the Marquis would be pleased about that.”
Gráinne stiffened. She didn’t want to think about Slyxx or anything to do with him. Looking at Caera, she changed the subject, “Be careful not to get too close to the one called Glendoque. He is . . . well . . . he is interesting. Very . . . irresistible.”
Caera perked up. “Oh? Which one is he?”
“The snakelike one with the knotty tail.”
Caera crinkled her brow. “I do not think I have seen him.”
“If you do, look the other way. There is something about him that makes it impossible to move away from him.”
“What do you suppose it is?” Caera asked, her interest obvious.
“Everything about him.”
Caera laughed, and Lan coughed, which made both Caera and Gráinne laugh all the more.
The three settled down for the night. Caera and Gráinne slept near the fire, and Lan took a place between the fire and the entrance to the chamber. Long after the other two had fallen asleep, Gráinne remained awake. She stared at the crevice above her and watched as stars came into view, twinkling in greeting before moving out of sight. As she watched, her mind wandered without aim until one particular star caught her attention. Although it was amber, it seemed larger and brighter than the stars around it. She thought of Jarrod and Arae, but as she considered whether it might be the star the half-Elf had told her about, she felt that it wasn’t. She didn’t just think it wasn’t. She felt it wasn’t. Her breath quickened, her heartbeat sped up, perspiration beaded on her brow. When she acknowledged what was happening to her body, it went numb. One word rang out in her mind, followed by images of the seductive creature she’d warned Caera to avoid. Glendoque!
Gráinne tried to calm herself. She thought of the Goddess pond and the trickle of water she found relaxing. Her mind drifted to the waterfall she’d seen on the outskirts of the encampment, and slowly she regained control of her body. She rose and tiptoed past Lan to the hole in the wall. As she started down the ladder, the Kathan quietly said, “All I will say is heed your own advice.”
She chuckled quietly and descended the ladder into an encampment soundly sleeping. Her stroll to the waterfall was uneventful, unhurried. Fires burned steadily, rather than flaring up or roaring to cook a meal, and the smell of warm embers filled the air. By the time she reached the waterfall, Gráinne felt serene. She sat at the edge of the pond at the waterfall’s base and let the sound of the spilling and splashing water fill her ears and mind. Water had always soothed her soul. She dipped a hand into the cool pond and scooped up some water in her cupped palm. Tilting her head back, she poured the water onto her forehead and let it trickle down her face and neck. Gráinne had no idea how long she sat at the pond’s edge with her neck stretched and her head tilted. Finally, she opened her eyes and relaxed her neck, looking down into the pond at her own reflection. The pond rippled, and the image of Glendoque’s face appeared next to hers. Slowly, she turned her head to find the male knelt beside her. Panic gnawed at her stomach, and she tried to focus on the sound of the waterfall. “Should you not be sleeping?” she asked him, her throat constrained so much she felt each word squeezing its way up to her tongue and lips.
“Good evening, Marquessssa,” he replied. “I rarely ssssleep. Thissss issss my hunting time.”
Gráinne forced a smile. “Brodar said you are a selective hunter.”
“Sssselective. Yesssssssssssss.” He flicked his tail.
“What are you hunting?” she asked, the knot in her stomach telling her she might not want to know.
“Ratssss, molessss, and haressss. Mosssstly.” His tail slithered around his waist.
“There are hares in the caves?” she asked. Her eyes avoided looking at the tail as much as possible.
“No. I find haressss in the woodssss.”
“I see. Brodar tells me your name is Glendoque. That is an unusual name. From what land do you come?”
“My home issss in the Cavessss of Alya.”
“Alya,” she repeated. “I have never heard of it, but then, I have not travelled very far from my own homeland.”
“Neither had I until I sssstepped into the tunnel that brought me here.”
Gráinne was confused. “Alya is attached to this place by tunnel?”
“Yessss,” he replied, cocking his head to one side. His amber eyes sparkled, pupils dilating.
Gráinne looked down into the pond, where Glendoque’s reflection showed her he was still looking at her. His tail slithered up to his chest and engulfed it, and he stroked the tail, running his palm over the knots in it. “Why do you not return home then?”
Glendoque continued to stroke his tail. “I cannot passss through the tunnel without the Guide.”
“I do not understand.”
“The Guide and her sssstaff. Without her, the tunnel leadssss to a dead end.”
“Magic?” Gráinne asked.
“I do not know. I know only that issss how I came here, and that the way I came issss not accessssible now.”
“Do you miss your homeland?” she asked.
“Ssssometimessss, but I find much here interessssting. Like you, Marquessssa. You intrigue me. Your hair issss sssso beautiful. The femalessss of Alya are like me, without hair.”
He unfurled his tail, and Gráinne looked into the pond again. She saw in the reflection that the tip of it was reaching toward her hair. She remained still as it caressed her hair and wound itself into her curls. The tail explored her locks so gently she could barely feel the movement she saw reflected in the pond. She held her breath.
“Sssso ssssoft.”
Gráinne’s head felt heavy on her neck, and she strained to hold it upright. The air was heavy with a scent she hadn’t noticed when she arrived at the waterfall. She suspected it was the smell of Glendoque, as she longed to look toward him to gather in more of the intoxicating aroma. The tip of the tail trailed down Gráinne’s spine. She cleared her throat and stared at the waterfall, concentrating on the former topic. “Perhaps you could find the guide again?”
Glendoque’s tone softened. “Sssshe wassss like you.”
“Like me?”
“Yessss. Sssshe ssssmelled like you.”
“I do not know what you mean.”
“Sssshe wassss more than one thing, too.”
Gráinne frowned. “More than one thing? What do you mean?”
“More than a female who lookssss human.”
Gráinne blinked. “A Shifter?”
“Yessssssss. That issss what sssshe called hersssself. Sssshe wassss tassssty.”
“Did she tell you her name?” Gráinne asked, hoping it might be one she recognized.
“Moira. Her name issss Moira,” he said, running the tip of his tail back up Gráinne’s spine. The tail hesitated at her waist.
Gráinne didn’t remember anyone named Moira, nor did she remember hearing tales of anyone with that name. That she didn’t wasn’t alarming. She knew there were Shifters who had not come to Incorrigible during the Sieges. Yet, she felt oddly driven to know more about this one. “What else do you remember about her, Glendoque?”
Lumpy goosebumps large enough for Gráinne to see them sprung out on the Alyan’s skin. He shivered. When his tail shook, each of i
ts knots rattled in a different, harmonic tone. “Sssshe ssssaid my name the way you do.” He shivered again. “Sssshe wore her hair piled on her head, but it wassss long and ssssilky and assss rich assss ssssandsssstone. Her eyessss were like emeraldssss when sssshe led me through the tunnel.”
“Like yours?”
“Yessss. Not human.”
That a Shifter changed her eyes was not surprising to Gráinne. “And before and after she entered the tunnel?”
“Different. Green and human.”
Shifters didn’t change their eyes for no reason. Gráinne had witnessed voluntary Shifts when one of her kind let an animal form emerge. She also had seen and experienced some involuntary Shifts. She had learned all too well the embarrassment of not being able to control a Shift, of partial Shifting. Children had teased her because her eyes would change when she was afraid, angry, or hurt. “Did other parts of her change, or just her eyes?”
“Jusssst her beautiful eyessss.”
“Was she upset? Afraid?”
“No. Sssshe wassss calm. Focussssed.”
Lan coughed, and Gráinne started. Glendoque rattled his tail. “There you are, Marquessa. I apologize for the interruption, but you really must get some sleep tonight. The journey tomorrow will be long.”
Gráinne felt torn between relief she wasn’t alone with the seductive creature and reluctance to end the conversation with him. “I was just coming,” she replied, conceding to the tug of reason. She rose from the rock and looked at Glendoque. “I hope we will continue our discussion another time.”
Glendoque touched Gráinne’s hair with the tip of his tail, running it through the curls one last time before he replied, “Assss do I, Marquessssa. Assss do I.”
On their walk back to the sleeping chamber, Lan mumbled and hissed at Gráinne about flirting with danger and not heeding her own advice. Although she heard his ramblings, she was oblivious to them. She couldn’t stop thinking about Glendoque’s guide and her eyes. Something does not make sense. There had to be a reason for the partial Shift.
A few hours later, the encampment awakened. Caera prepared breakfast for the three of them, producing a loaf of bread that Fiona had given her. She’d started cooking a seedy gruel not long after Lan and Gráinne had returned to the cave. During breakfast, they talked about their plans for the next few days. Gráinne felt certain it would be at least that long before the clan leaders reported to Brodar the decisions of their followers. Lan warned Caera to be cautious about who she interacted with, and she reassured him that she was capable of taking care of herself. Her main interest was in listening and talking with Fiona, whom she found both talented and wise, and she would stay close to Fiona as much as possible. After breakfast, Caera busied herself in the back of the chamber while Lan and Gráinne prepared to leave.
Just as Gráinne began her descent down the ladder, Caera handed a tied cloth bag to Lan, obviously avoiding saying goodbye. “Take the rest of the bread and some cheese with you.” Her awkwardness solidified. “Just in case you get hungry later,” she said before hurrying back to the rear of the chamber.
No one spoke to Lan and Gráinne as they walked through the encampment to the tunnel leading to the exit ladder. The two exchanged glances but didn’t speak until they reached the woods. “She will be safe,” Gráinne finally said to Lan, offering reassurance to him and trying to convince herself it was true.
“I know,” he said. “She is more than she appears to be on the surface. Quite an extraordinary creature.”
Gráinne laughed at his word choice. Unable to resist teasing him about their first encounter and the word that had made his hair practically stand on end, she said, “Creature? I thought that word was reserved for your kind.”
Lan hissed playfully.
Before the two reached the spot on the road where the houses outside Port Firth started to appear again, they decided to stop and eat the food Caera had packed for them. Their walk had been leisurely and relaxing, filled with discussions about the Cailleach Bheur, the many questions clan leaders had posed to Lan, some of the creatures they’d encountered in the cave, and how to find Fenn MacMoragh. Gráinne felt as if they had become friends, rather than guard and captive. She felt concern about the position Lan might be in when Slyxx returned. As she nibbled on a piece of bread she’d folded over a chunk of cheese, she thought about Lan’s accusation that she hadn’t considered his or Caera’s well-being. She wanted him to know she did care. “You do know I do not want my husband to harm you or Caera, do you not? Tell me, please, what I should say or do to protect you.”
Lan’s eyes widened.
“I know what he is capable of.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “He . . . hurt . . . Caera the night before he left. It was my fault for misleading him to keep him out of my bed.”
Lan looked the other way, and his tail drooped.
“It was convenient that my sickness repulsed him. I never thought he would harm her. That night, he must have hit her. Goddess only knows how many nights he was in her bed before he stopped caring to hide his brutality. She admits to only one.” Gráinne still felt nauseous at the thought of Slyxx forcing himself on the sweet woman.
“It was only once.”
“What?”
“He was in her chamber only one night. The night before he left.”
“How do you know that? Did she tell you? Maybe she was too humiliated or angry to admit to more.”
Lan looked at Gráinne and then down at the grass underneath them, plucking at it as if grooming it. “Because he was in mine the other nights.”
Gráinne was speechless.
“What was the word you thought? Violated?”
Tears filled her eyes. Conniving to save herself from her husband’s torment had caused him to harm not only an innocent woman, but also an innocent male. The two beings who had helped her to move forward with her plans for her homeland had suffered because she wasn’t strong enough to bear Slyxx’s torment or to stop it. Guilt and remorse and shame weren’t adequate words for what she felt at the moment. Knowing that apologizing wouldn’t erase what had happened, Gráinne remained silent. She reached out and stroked Lan’s hair.
The Kathan curled up on the grass near Gráinne’s leg and lay his head in her lap. “Can you understand that I do not hate him? I fear him. I loathe what he did to Caera and to you. But, I cannot hate him. He brought me here. He is the only father I have known.”
Gráinne wept, not only out of shame for what she had caused, but because the Kathan’s vulnerability stabbed at her heart. For all his bluster, dexterity, and keen wits, he was gentler and more tender-hearted than Brodar. Caressing his hair, she wept for him and for Caera.
“The sun is getting low. We should get to Port Firth before dark,” he said quietly after a short time.
Gráinne knew he was trying to lighten the mood, and she cooperated. It was the least she could do. “You are right. Caera will be furious if we encounter trouble on the road and she misses it.”
Before nightfall, they reached the inn and settled into their rooms. Both bathed before having a light dinner, at which John and Marta joined them. After dinner, John disappeared from the table and returned with a jug of spirits he called whisky. He poured some into all of their goblets and explained that the custom of its maker called for drinkers to empty the goblet after each toast. The first salute began with Marta.
“To a bountiful harvest and a warm hearth,” Marta said. They clanked their goblets and downed all the whisky.
The liquid was warm and thick, and it stung as it slid down Gráinne’s throat. She looked around at the others, all of whom seemed unaffected. John poured more into their goblets.
“To good health and a full inn,” Gráinne said, lifting her glass toward their hosts. Once again, the four clanked the goblets and downed their contents. This time, the whisky didn’t sting as much going down as it had the first time. Gráinne looked around at the others. Marta and John had rosier cheeks than t
hey had before the toasts began, and both grinned as John poured the third round. The tips of Lan’s ears, usually pert, flopped forward, and the sight of them made Gráinne giggle.
“To . . . to . . . ,” Lan began. The others waited in anticipation. “To whisky!” he shouted.
John let out a roar of delight, and the women laughed unreservedly. They all tipped up the goblets, draining them for the third time. The spirits slid down Gráinne’s throat and left little taste. She thought the first drink had burned her taste buds, and that thought made her giggle. She held out her goblet for John to refill it. Lan held onto his outstretched arm as he waited for John to pour more whiskey into his goblet.
Marta pointed at him. “Is your arm getting heavy, kitten?”
Gráinne froze, expecting Lan to lash out at the innkeeper’s wife. She burst into laughter when he crossed his eyes looking at the arm.
John cleared his throat, and the other three looked at him. “To a good wife,” he said, looking at Marta, who beamed. “Good neighbors,” he added, nodding at Lan and Gráinne. “And,” looking at the goblets poised to clank with each other, “the Scot who brought me whisky, the MacMoragh of Clan MacMoragh, Fenn Conor MacMoragh!”
Gráinne laughed as hard as she could remember ever having laughed. John and Marta laughed with her, thinking she finally had gotten drunk on the whisky. Lan, who had begun to talk into his goblet, missed the fact that John could tell them how to find the Scot Brodar had said might serve as Captain of the Cailleach Bheur. After more laughter and banter with John and Marta, Gráinne stood up. “Time to get this kitten into his bed.”
The Kathan had slumped over the table and was still mumbling incoherently at the goblet he twisted in his nimble fingers. All she could make out as she lifted his limp body and pulled him close to walk him up the stairs was “Shinies.”
Removing Lan’s clothes to tuck him into bed wasn’t an option. By the time they got upstairs, the Kathan was as limp as a man who had just crossed death’s threshold. Gráinne managed to get him onto the bed and pull the quilt over him. For what seemed a long while, she watched as he slept, fitfully dreaming. She could only imagine that he dreamt about Slyxx. Leaving the room, she turned around in the doorway and whispered to him, “All living things must choose their paths, and he has chosen his. That I promise you, kitten.”
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