[2015] Dance of the Minotaur

by TC Calligari

  Catríona gasped with pleasure when her husband opened the chest to reveal two beautiful wolf pelts.

  “They were taken by our best hunter.” Explained on of the chest-bearers.

  “How have they no battle marks?” Greum asked. Aiden looked closer at the pelts. They were unmarred by the telltale scrapes of the bear claw. The pelt was taken in one perfect piece; a sign that the wolves were downed by a bowman rather than beast. Most of the clan’s hunters chose to shift when pursuing their prey. . .

  “This hunter is no shifter.” Teirnan smiled. “Though who is the more successful predator between the two is debatable.”

  A burst of female laughter rang from over Teirnan’s shoulder. Shuffling through the door came Greum’s twin, Deirdre, arm and arm with a woman that Aiden did not recognize. Deirdre’s smooth raven hair stood in stark contrast to the golden blonde curls that fell past the waist of her companion. Set against the pale blue of her gown, the woman looked ethereal to Aiden’s approving eyes. She must be from Clan Sutharlainn, he concluded. Catríona’s clansmen had been coming and going with regularity since the renewal of peace following the wedding. Aiden had never before seen so many new and exciting faces.

  “Teirnan.” Deirdre spoke with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. It was well known that Deirdre and Teirnan harbored a deep dislike for each other, though no one was entirely sure as to why.

  “Deirdre.” Teirnan dipped his head in acknowledgement. “As always, it’s a pleasure to meet you again.”

  “What is a pleasure,” Deirdre replied, refusing to share his sentiment, “is that you’ve been so kind as to bring your sister to visit this time.”

  “Skye traveled along?” Aiden found himself voicing the question aloud as he looked about the room for the small child amongst the crowd gathering in the great hall. He remembered the precocious lass who had wandered barefoot through the forests outside of the Laramie estate, preferring her brother’s riding suits to the elegant gowns that befitted her station. She would be about fifteen now, he guessed. His eyes landed on a boyish girl standing along the wall who looked like she could do with a strong bar of soap. He didn’t remember Skye having muddy brown hair, but perhaps she had gone mangy as she had grown.

  Deirdre laughed. “Aiden, you’re daft.” She placed both hands on the stunning blonde beside her. “Well then, meet Skye, brother. Though you’ve met her often enough in our childhood that you ought to be ashamed at your abysmal memory.”

  Aiden felt his brows contract in confusion.

  “Skye is a lass of what… fifteen now?” He made a small gesture at the woman in front of him, clearly representing that he believed her to be older than the individual they were discussing. Teirnan’s laugh was a deep rumble beside him.

  The blonde dipped into a smooth curtsy, a move that the awkward Skye would never have perfected. Her curls spilled forward over her shoulders before she stood once again.

  “I’m twenty.” She spoke softly. “If you’ll force a lass to own to it.” There was an edge to her voice as if she found the situation amusing.

  Aiden felt his mouth fall open. He could see Teirnan watching his reaction with amusement and shut it with a quick snap. The moment seemed to drag for an age but Aiden could think of nothing to say. His mind was in a complete state of shock. Thankfully he was saved from a response only seconds later when his brother attempted to diffuse the awkward situation.

  “I’d like to meet this skilled hunter,” Greum proclaimed. “to thank him for this beautiful gift.”

  Aiden watched Skye run her fingers along the soft fur of the wolf pelts. She watched her brother out of the corner of her eye as Teirnan collected himself from yet another burst of laughter.

  “I see that it has been too long since our families have shared a roof. May I present,” Teirnan threw his arms out and gestured at Skye, “your huntress!”

  ***

  If Skye had thought that the Laird and his children could not have been more shocked at her arrival, she would have been wrong. The silence that rang through the hall after her brother’s announcement was palpable. She had always thought it strange that for a clan that had easily come to terms with the fact that it was brimming with shapeshifters, it never ceased to spark amazement at the idea that a female might also willingly venture into the wild reaches of the MacConaill lands.

  Catríona was the first to react.

  “How brilliant!” she exclaimed, rounding the trunk to embrace Skye and thank her for the gift. When she pulled away Catríona’s hands remained on Skye’s shoulders. Her eyes were both smiling and serious as she continued, “Sometimes a woman must take matters into her own hands, yes?”

  From the crowd came a series of mild chuckles. It was well known that Lady Catríona had independently taken on the task of avenging her father’s death. The dangerous journey had not only led her to the truth of her father’s murder, but also into the loving arms of her new husband.

  Skye felt herself smile. Between Lady Catríona and the bold Deirdre, Skye would find no lack of strong-willed women here at Castle MacConaill.

  She resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably in her gown. She could see, in her peripheral vision, Aiden watching her with a shocked fascination. Skye suppressed the urge to smooth her hands over the front of her gown, tuck her free-flowing hair behind an ear, or in some other way fix whatever mishap of her attire would cause him to stare with such complete focus. She longed for the smooth leather of her hunting trousers, the thick protection that allowed her to walk through bush and bramble without fear of snag or scrape. Skye was not suited for gowns, despite her father’s many attempts to train the wild spirit out of her. She had studied with the best tutors, learned the most elegant manners and fashions, all to fulfill her father’s dreams of marrying her off to some boring and steady landowner.

  I’ll not have you living in a shack in the woods, Skye Laramie. Your brother will be a bonnet Laird to The MacConaill and you will make a match befitting your station. Skye remembered his words exactly, as if they had somehow been branded on her soul. Give up on this foolhardy wildness. Settle into the lady that you were raised to be. Model yourself after your mother, God rest her soul. Take her things and wear them as your own, let them remind you of your duties. The impassioned speech of her beloved father, whose love for her wanted only to ensure her security with a prominent husband, were the very words that were meant to break her spirit.

  Skye turned her back to Aiden, focusing her attention instead on Greum and Catríona, who were admiring the quality of the pelts. The sooner they left this place, the better. While Skye was pleased to see her old friends again, she was not suited for castle life. There were too many potential suitors that queued around The MacConaill and his family. Skye much preferred to remain in the obscurity of the Laramie estate. She knew the reasons for her father’s request that she join her brother on his journey and she did not like them one bit.

  Skye scanned the faces that sat at the tables around the great hall. With how many of these men would Teirnan encourage her to speak? Her eyes lit upon a man who appeared near to her father’s age who was watching her with greedy eyes. Skye felt her skin prickle with disgust. Not him, she told herself. Not any of them.

  Later that evening, The MacConaill informed them that he had ordered a great feast in honor of their arrival. There would be a great boar roast, music and dancing, and all of the entertainments that were meant to thrill the young women of the castle. Skye, however, was not thrilled.

  “This will be the ideal opportunity for you to be sociable.” Teirnan lectured. “If you don’t want father making the choice for you, I recommend that you begin your search.”

  Skye turned to her brother with pleading eyes. Her handmaid forced her head back toward the mirror and continued to weave her curls into an elegant pile atop Skye’s head.

  “I don’t like this any more than you do, but you know how father is once he sets his mind.” Teirnan placed a comforting hand on her shoulde
r. “He’s only concerned about your future.”

  “Why can’t you speak with him?” she bowed her head to stare at her hands, but a quick tug from her attendant forced it, once again, to return to its previous position. “You’ll be Laird one day. You could change his mind.”

  “I’ve tried, Skye. I promise to keep trying but, I’m not Laird yet, and even I must follow his commands.” Teirnan sank to crouch in front of his younger sister. He took her hands in his own and kissed her forehead. “We promised mother that we would take care of you. This is the only way that he knows how. Quit fighting it and choose someone who could make you happy.”

  “No highborn man is going to want a wife that is anything other than this.” she gestured at the elegant red gown that covered her body.

  “Well, then that’s what you’ll have to be.” Teirnan winked at her. “Until after the wedding.”

  When her brother left, Skye took a long look at herself in the mirror. The vibrant gown left her shoulders bare before falling into long trailing sleeves. Her tiny waist was accentuated by the full skirts that opened at the front to reveal a shimmering gold inlay. Skye tried to tug the dress up over her exposed shoulders but her hand was slapped away by the maid who was clasping a long chain and pendant about her neck. Skye fiddled with the heavy pendant before smoothing her hands over her corseted waist.

  “You look beautiful, Mistress.” The woman beside her muttered. Skye thanked the mousy, plain-faced girl and watched her leave. At that moment, as she stared at the door that closed between them, Skye would have traded all of her beauty and birthright to be an average woman with the ability to make life choices for herself.

  Her memory lit upon an elderly woman who lived in a village not far from the estate, who maintained the right to buy and sell her own goods, just like any man. If Skye had not been born to a prominent family, she wondered, would that lifestyle have been available to her?

  There was a soft knock on the door before Deirdre entered. She looked every bit the lady that Skye was trying to imitate. Her glossy black hair spilled over her shoulder in an intricate braid that was adorned with tiny white flowers and glittering pins that shimmered when she turned her head. A pale green gown with the dark pattern of vines over a crème inlay made Deirdre look like some woodland nymph who had wandered into the castle from the depths of the forest. The effect was overwhelmingly elegant.

  “I come bearing gifts for your nerves.” Deirdre giggled, pulling a small flask from the sleeve of her gown. She perched on the edge of the bed and took a small drink while patting the coverlet beside her. Skye sat and accepted the proffered container. The liquor burned her throat and she gasped, the fiery liquid blazing from her lips all the way to the pit of her stomach.

  “It does take some getting used to.” Deirdre laughed and sipped lightly from the flask once more. Skye realized that she had made the mistake of taking too large a drink of the vicious liquid.

  “I think I’ll stick to wine.” Skye joined in her friend’s laughter.

  “Nonsense. Unless you’ve suddenly taken a liking to dancing and crowds?” Deirdre raised an eyebrow and waved the drink enticingly in the air.

  Skye grimaced. Dancing. She hated dancing. She had a habit of feeling paralyzed with fear in large crowds and the thought of trying to weave through the chaos of the dance floor made her head spin. Skye snatched the flask and took another drink. This time she was prepared for it, the burn and tingle. Deirdre let out a sharp chortle.

  “Still afraid of dancing? So, you haven’t truly shifted into a lady then!” she exclaimed as if the thought was a source of relief. Deirdre wrapped an arm around Skye’s bare shoulders and pulled their sides together. “Well, I enjoy dancing enough for the both of us.” Deirdre stood and pulled Skye toward the door. “Shall we?”

  They strolled, arm in arm, down the dark staircase and through the corridors toward the great hall. Skye could hear the raucous crowd gathered inside and her heart began to beat unnaturally fast.

  As they paused before entering, Deirdre smiled. “You look exactly like your mother tonight.” Skye allowed herself to be pulled into the hall by her friend. A hundred pairs of eyes turned on them and the roar of the room sank to a gentle hum. Deirdre steered them through the throngs of tables toward the far end of the hall. There, the Laird MacConaill sat surrounded by his family, and honored guests. Two seats remained at the table, waiting for the women to occupy them.

  As Skye sank into her cushioned seat she breathed a sigh of relief. She had made it to the table without making a blundering fool of herself. Skye was seated between Deirdre and Aiden, her brother Teirnan was deep in conversation with Greum and The MacConaill further down the long table. Skye was relieved that she was not seated amongst strangers, despite the fact that Aiden had not recognized her earlier in the day. To be honest, it had not surprised her. The last time that she had been to the castle only the Laird, his wife, and daughter had been present. The sons had been away in a clash against the McKinnons, a brutish clan whose lands bordered their own.

  It had been nearly twelve years since the MacConaill had sent his children to summer at the Laramie estate. All travel after the death of the Laird of Clan Sutharlainn had been cautiously restricted by the MacConaill, who feared retaliation for a crime that had not been his doing.

  Dinner passed by before she realized it. The hearty meal, flowing wine and pleasant conversation did well to set her nerves at ease. Skye was even beginning to enjoy Aiden’s lighthearted banter when the musicians sat down to begin the night’s entertainment.

  Not five chords had been struck when two slightly drunken men came to ask the women for a dance. Deirdre laughed and promised to join for the next song, claiming to need a moment of rest after such a plentiful meal. Skye was relieved to share in her excuse, and likewise remained at the table.

  When the second song began Deirdre was quickly enticed into the center of the hall, where a large portion of the small tables had been cleared away to make space for the raucous dancing. Skye was petitioned once again, and with a smile she declined. Three or four refusals later, Skye realized that Aiden was watching the exchanges with amused interest.

  “You’ll be out of excuses before long,” He laughed. “And then what?”

  She sighed and leaned back in her chair, looking out at the crowd of people weaving and spinning with ease.

  “Dancing is not a skill I’ve yet mastered.” She admitted.

  Aiden smiled. Unconsciously, Skye took note of the fact that he had grown to be a surprisingly attractive man. His muscles had filled out in a way that she found surprisingly appealing. His shoulders were wide and strong, though he was still lean at the waist, and his pale hair, like hers, stood in stark contrast to the table of dark heads.

  She remembered one summer, Aiden had been skinny and too tall for his age, when he and Teirnan had been practicing their ability to control the transition between their human and animal forms. One night, Teirnan had not returned home. Her father had told her not to worry, that it often took boys entire nights to truly control the transformation, but Skye had worried just the same. All night she had waited at the doorway, but he did not return. In the morning she took up her bow and decided to search for him; to calm the fear in his spirit, which her father said was the only way to truly return from the beast form.

  She had wandered into the woods and found, near a small river where the children often swam, two bears curled beneath a large tree. They were larger than cubs, finally beginning to grow into formidable creatures. But they were thin and awkward, like their human counterparts. Skye stared at the two creatures and her heart had went out to them both. Her brother, who had been struggling with the transition for months, forced to spend the night away from the warmth and comfort of the castle, and his friend, who had chosen to weather the night here beside him.

  At the time Skye had not known who the tawny bear had been but she had been overwhelmed with gratitude just the same. How she had wished that wome
n were able to shift as the men did, that she might have been able to survive a night in the dangerous woods. She had already been working to learn the lay of the land, to hunt and survive as well as the lads.

  When her brother had finally shifted, Skye had known to make a quick exit. The transition left the men of Clan MacConaill nude in the elements, until they could retrieve their hidden kilts from the forest. Teirnan was l7ying prostrate on the ground, when he voiced his thanks and waited for Skye to leave. As she walked past the remaining bear, she had run her fingers softly up the length of his muzzle, much as if he were a dog or horse. He had nudged her hand with his snout, revealing that he understood her appreciation, before she had disappeared into the woods. Had she known the bear was Aiden MacConaill, she would never have touched him. Petting the bear forms of men was something strictly limited to immediate family, or lovers. Skye had risked the act for what she had thought was another boy of the estate, one which would have respected her action because she was daughter of the Laird. Instead, she had stroked Aiden, her superior. She shuddered to think of the repercussions of her actions if he had been offended.

  “Skye?” Aiden’s smooth, deep voice broke her from her reverie.

  “I’m sorry.” She shook her head to clear it. “What did you say?”

  “I said that it appears that you have mastered a great many skills since we were children.” He repeated.

  “Oh,” she blushed at the compliment. Of course he remembered her clumsy childhood. “I’m afraid moving my feet under a gown without falling is not one of them.”

  Aiden let out a loud burst of laughter. He pushed his chair back, stood, and offered her his hand.

  “What? No.” Skye panicked, forgetting to gently decline as she had previously. She mentally berated herself for the rude response. “What I mean is…” But Aiden did not give her a chance to continue.

  “Come on.” He pulled the napkin, which she had been twisting with anxiety, from her hands and tugged her to her feet. The force of the action brought their bodies extremely close and Skye had to throw her free hand against his chest to stop herself from falling against him. She quickly pulled her hand away, as if burned.