by Lucy Monroe
“You have noticed this before.”
“Sometimes it is more glaringly obvious than others.”
“It’s a family trait,” Guaire said, with full-out laughter in his voice.
Niall growled, but his mated didn’t so much as blink at the implied threat. He just gave Niall a smile that had Barr’s fierce brother melting like the mist in the sun. Niall pulled Guaire into his arms and kissed him quite thoroughly before letting the redhead settle with his back to him. After all the years Niall had spent lonely and pining for a mate he thought feared him, Barr would never grow tired of seeing the evidence of his brother’s new happiness. The look of contentment on the scarred face squeezed his own heart, though he would never admit it aloud.
You are happy for your brother. Sabrine’s voice was soft with indulgence inside his head.
Aye. He has found contentment with Guaire.
I have never seen warriors so at peace. Her voice held puzzlement and a longing he did not understand.
She could be that at peace with him. Did she not realize this?
Verica is so happy, despite the risks of living here amidst potential enemies.
This clan is her family. And I will discover those who would kill for the sake of killing. ’Tis my duty as her laird.
You are so sure of yourself.
As are you.
A sense of surprise pulsed between them.
He almost laughed out loud. You are every bit as confident a warrior as me.
“As charming as Verica and Earc’s chamber is, perhaps these revelations could be made in a spot more comfortable,” Guaire said with a smile for Verica, interrupting Barr and Sabrine’s quick mental exchange.
Barr had no doubt his brother’s mate had known exactly what he was interrupting. The seneschal of his former laird was a highly intelligent man, if only a marginal warrior. Earc bristled and once again Barr nearly laughed; Guaire’s charm had only grown with his confidence after mating with Niall. While Talorc showed no jealousy of the man’s deep friendship with his mate and wife, other warriors were not so tolerant.
Turning toward the door, Barr said, “We will meet in the hall.”
“What if Padraig or Father Thomas return from their calls on the clanspeople?” Verica asked.
“They are visiting the clansmen that live on the edges of the holding,” Barr threw over his shoulder. “They will not return for a sennight at the soonest.”
He had been concerned about the priest and Padraig traveling without escort, so he had sent two of the better-trained soldiers with the two men.
“Aodh is marking inventory in the mead and ale stores,” Guaire added helpfully. “And his wife is overseeing preparations for the latemeal in the kitchens.”
Earc fetched Circin and they all met in the hall around the table they shared during meals. Sabrine began by telling them about the Éan of the forest. Circin’s eyes grew round as he realized not only did the others at the table know about his dual nature but that other ravens existed.
He asked question after question, all of which Sabrine answered with patience and a new openness that pleased Barr.
Barr’s awe grew as his mate explained about the life of the Éan in the forest. The bird shifters continued to follow the ancient Chrechte ways and yet, somehow humans found their way into the village. As mates, as friends, as advisors.
“You don’t allow them to leave if they stumble on your village?” Circin asked in stupefied curiosity.
“Our lands are far from any of the clans. Those who find us are seeking a legend. If they find it, they must forfeit their old lives.”
“Or what?” Verica asked.
Sabrine gave Verica a look of stoic pragmatism. “You know Chrechte law for revealing our secrets.”
“You kill them?” Verica’s eyes widened. “But what if they promise not to tell?”
“We have not had to enforce the law in the last fifty years,” Sabrine said.
Barr noted it was not an answer to Verica’s question, but a sidestep. His mate was good at that particular tactic and seeing her use it on someone else increased his admiration, rather than his annoyance, as when she used it with him.
Looking unconvinced, Guaire asked, “No human has found the Éan in that time?”
“None have attempted to leave after doing so,” Sabrine replied grimly.
Guaire nodded his understanding and Niall nodded his approval. The consequences might be harsh, but Barr too understood and approved the upholding of the ancient law.
There had been a time when the Faol lived separately from the humans as well, before MacAlpin’s betrayal, when the law was enforced even more strictly among them. It was still punishable by death to reveal the secrets of the Faol to those who would do them harm.
“Is that part of your responsibilities as a warrior?” Verica pressed Sabrine. “To kill those who break the ancient laws?”
For the first time, Sabrine’s emotionless countenance cracked and unhappiness showed through. “Ravens are not predators like the wolves. Killing in anything but defense is almost impossible for our natures to tolerate.”
She sounded like she thought that was a failing. Barr reached out to her through their mating bond with his best attempt at soothing. This is not a weakness in you, he said, hearing the growl of his wolf in agreement.
He was a warrior, not a nursemaid, after all.
She looked at him, her eyes filled with gratitude. He met her gaze, his own going heated. Her pupils dilated and the sense of sadness dissipated.
“Then how do you enforce the law?” Circin asked, breaking the connection.
Sabrine jerked and then appeared to give herself a mental shake.
Barr liked having such an effect on her.
She drew in a breath and let it out. He could feel her indecision before speaking. “Death sentences are carried out by the eagles. They have the predator nature of the Faol, but their numbers are small. It is why we have so little success in our war with the wolves.”
Barr understood the frustration in his mate’s tone. “Because you can never go on the offensive.”
Sabrine nodded, the cost that limit to their nature had on her, and the other ravens, in her haunted eyes.
“Are there other Faol, besides those in this clan, that hunt the Éan?” Verica asked, sounding worried.
“Yes.”
“Who?” Barr demanded.
“We are not familiar enough with the clans to name them.”
“But they did not wear the Donegal colors,” Earc guessed.
“No.”
“Describe their plaids to me,” Barr instructed.
Sabrine rolled her eyes at no doubt what she considered his arrogance again, but did as he asked. The colors she described were unfamiliar to Barr. He thought the priest would know who they belonged to though. He would ask Father Thomas when he and Padraig returned.
“You said your parents were killed by Faol hunting the Éan?” Barr asked.
“Yes.”
“Have any Éan been killed in this secret war recently?”
“Three Éan have disappeared in the last year. The year before, an equal number and two additional deaths we know to be the result of wolf attacks.”
The numbers were small, but then the remaining Éan were not a large population and the loss of one pack member could devastate, Barr knew full well.
The indiscriminate killing had to stop.
The questions continued and Sabrine continued to answer them with an honesty that he would have enjoyed earlier, but he was glad she had finally decided to trust him and those he held in confidence. When she explained about the Éan’s sacred stone, he understood fully her desperation to get it back for her people. The continued existence of her people hung in the balance. As her mate, he was equally determined to see it tip in the Éan’s favor.
One day, she would understand and accept that truth.
She still wasn’t leaving Donegal land without him by her side, but h
e agreed that the return of the Clach Gealach Gra to the Éan was of the utmost importance and urgency.
He wanted to talk to this Council of Three she’d spoken about as well. It was time for the secret war to end. The Faol still waging it only succeeded with breaking the newest law of the Chrechte, that of only waging war on behalf of their human clan, because they were doing so under the cover of the Éan’s secrecy. He intended to explain that to the Council of Three. Besides, no one fought a wolf as well as another wolf. None could sue for peace with as much effect, either.
Of course a wolf suing for peace rarely included diplomatic parlay.
Aodh’s wife came with the evening meal and by necessity, their discussion turned to more innocuous subjects.
Sabrine waited until she and Barr were alone in his bedchamber that night to again broach the subject of returning to her people alone. He simply did not understand the risk he took by accompanying her.
“No.” Barr stripped his plaid and weapons off, going through his nightly ritual with the weapons, placing them in easy reach.
“Be reasonable. You cannot leave your clan right now, or your pack. They need your leadership.”
“Niall has agreed to stay and assist Earc in leading the clan and continuing to train the soldiers. Guaire will do his best to teach Aodh the ways of a proper seneschal as well.” Barr’s tone said the plans were set and not going to change.
She did not remember even a hint of such conversation at the latemeal. “When did you discuss this?”
“At the evening meal.”
She must not be thinking clearly as suddenly she realized Barr and his brother had done so with mindspeak. Barr had closed himself off from her again and she had assumed it was because he was still angry she had been prepared to leave him.
Perhaps it had simply been the result of him holding another mindspeak conversation. “How far away can you and Niall connect with your minds?”
She was curious about these different gifts of the Faol that she had known nothing about.
He dropped the bar on the door and then climbed into the bed for the first time without making sure she was naked and there before him. “Farther than most and not as far as you and I.”
Rather than ask what she really wanted to, which was what he was doing in bed without her, she said, “I did not know the Faol had such differing gifts.”
“There is much about the packs you do not know, but then you aren’t interested, are you?” He didn’t sound particularly upset by that claim, but then he didn’t sound particularly anything, his voice as emotionless as the expression on his face.
“What do you mean? Of course I’m curious about you. You’re my mate.”
Barr merely shrugged and turned over, facing the opposite wall. “We leave for the sacred springs before light in the morning.”
“Why so early?”
“I do not want to be followed.”
She would feel more comfortable traveling undetected by his clan as well. “Thank you.”
She would still ask Verica if she would allow Sabrine to borrow her grandmother’s sword and dagger. Traveling without weapons was an anathema to Sabrine. It had been hard enough leaving her own behind in the forest to come into the clan under the guise of defenseless human. And they were still high in a tree on the way back to the Éan’s lands deep in the forest.
Without her ability to fly, they might as well have been in a wolf’s stronghold.
Barr did not bother to reply to her gratitude and she made no effort to prolong conversation. Not when it was so clear he was uninterested in talking with her.
She removed her clothing quietly, wondering if she should offer to sleep elsewhere. But that was stupid. He was her mate, and further, he was pack alpha. If he did not want her in his bed, he was more than capable of making his desires known.
Verbally. He was no child to sulk and get his way. No doubt he had his reasons for his silence, but at no time had he ever implied by so much as a look that he did not want her in his bed as his mate.
As mother of his yet-to-be-born child, he was even less likely to reject her place in his life.
Part of her could not help wondering if he wanted her only because she was his sacred mate and pregnant with his child. The love she felt for him was clearly not returned.
But then what did she know of emotion and love? She had lived as a warrior, among warriors, many of whom had taken mates for the sake of continuing the Éan race rather than any strong emotional connection.
How was she to know how a male Chrechte acted when he was in love with his mate? Except, she’d seen Earc with Verica and Niall and Guaire with one another. The affection they held for their mates was more than apparent.
Unsure how to deal with a Barr who did not react with instant arousal when they were alone, and annoyed by her own insecurities, Sabrine determinedly climbed into bed with him.
He made no move to turn and take her in his arms. Nevertheless, she reached out to touch his back, simply laying her hand against his shoulder blade behind his heart.
He surged up and over so quickly she let out a very un-warrior-like yelp of surprise.
He looked down at her, his features golden in the fire-light but cast partially in shadow. She could not read his expression, but the feel of his hardness against her thigh told her things were not so different than every other night. With no words, he lowered his head and claimed her mouth in a heated kiss.
Relief flooded her and she responded with all the feminine longing in her heart.
Their lovemaking was powerful and overwhelming, his body possessing hers with an intense hunger she reveled in. It was only as she drifted off to sleep, held tightly in his arms, that she realized he had not done his usual verbal claim staking.
He had not prompted her to acknowledge that she was his even once.
Sabrine stared at the horse Barr had prepared for her to ride. It was a lovely white mare and appeared to have a quiet disposition. Not that it mattered.
“I do not ride.”
Barr stopped what he was doing with his horse, a huge brown stallion that frankly scared Sabrine spitless. Not that she would admit to the weakness. He turned to face her, but looking as if he was trying to decide if she was merely being difficult or serious (which she was), he did not speak.
Guaire, who had come with Niall to see them off, was not so reticent. “Why not?”
“I do not have a horse.” In fact, there were less than a handful of horses living in her people’s lands, and those owned by some of the humans that lived among the Éan.
“Have you ever ridden one?” Niall asked, unable to hide the shock he felt.
Though she could tell he tried.
She felt her cheeks heat, though she didn’t think she should be embarrassed—after all, her people had their reasons for not keeping the great beasts—and shook her head firmly.
“You will ride with me then.” Barr immediately started moving the things he had tied behind the saddle on the white mare to his giant brute of a horse.
“I … uh … I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
He faced her again, his strong jaw set. “I will not risk you falling off and injuring yourself further because it is the first time you have ridden.”
“I could shift and ride the horse in my raven form. She could keep her seat with her claws.”
“How is it that you can shift at all?” Guaire asked. “I thought Chrechte females could not shift when they are pregnant.”
“Once the third moon of our pregnancy has passed, we lose the ability to shift until the first full moon after giving birth.”
“The Faol cannot shift into their wolf form from conception,” Niall added for his clearly curious mate.
“You are too vulnerable as a raven with your wounded wing,” Barr said, ignoring the discussion of shifting.
“It is almost healed.” She would be able to fly again soon.
“Almost will not keep you safe.”
She had never had anyone so concerned for her well-being since her parents’ deaths. Once she’d renounced her status as future leader of her people in favor of joining the protecting warriors, her entire life had been seen as forfeit to the safety of others.
“Your horse is big.”
“Like me.”
This was true. But Barr’s size did not scare her. “I do not make it a practice to be so far from the ground unless I am flying.”
“I will make sure you do not fall.”
“I have no intention of falling.” Though she was not quite sure how, precisely, she was supposed to avoid doing so.
“Then you have nothing to fear.”
“I did not say I was afraid.”
He merely looked at her. He was wolf; of course he had scented her concern about riding one of these great beasts. “I have never actually wished to ride.”
“We are not walking. The journey would take three times as long.”
She had no argument. Time was not on her side. But still she hesitated.
Barr jumped up onto his horse, making the huge animal seem even bigger. Then Niall’s hands were on her waist and she was being tossed upward. Barr caught her, swinging her around to land, straddling the horse behind him.
It was a good thing she was not one of the modest clanswomen because her skirts were rucked up to reveal a great deal of her leg. Guaire stepped forward and adjusted them without a word, getting awfully close to the powerful back legs of the beast. She could not help admiring his courage.
She gave him a taut smile as her own was tested. “Thank you.”
He nodded.
“Hold on tight,” Barr instructed as the horse began to move.
She could only do so with her healthy arm; she hoped that would be enough. He kept the horse to a quiet, steady walk until they were in the forest and then they were galloping and a completely unintentional scream snaked out of her throat. She bit it off almost immediately but was mortified all the same.
Warriors did not cry out in fright. Ever.
Nevertheless, she tightened her hold on her mate until he grunted. Her other hand held his belt in a deathlike grip and she pressed her body against his, following his movement more easily than that of the swift-moving behemoth beneath her.