by Lucy Monroe
She was on her feet and running, throwing her arms around the flapping wings, pinning them to the bird’s body as Barr grabbed its talons with hands careful not to wound. Once again, she was struck anew by the honor and deep commitment to life of her mate.
In an instant, the eagle was a man. His elbow came back, striking her in the chest and knocking the air out of her.
In the past, she would not have let go. But in the past, she had not had Barr. Nor had she carried his babe. She did now, though, and she had no choice but to release the fighting man before he could do damage to her and the child she carried.
Jumping back, she scurried out of the way so Barr could subdue the eagle shifter without worrying about her. Despite the blood from the wounds in his chest making him and his opponent slick, he did it quickly.
When Barr had the eagle shifter immobilized, so she could see the man’s face, Sabrine could barely breathe for her shock.
He was clearly Éan, but she had never seen him before. “Who are you?”
Barr smacked the man’s head and said, “I’ll introduce you.”
“You?” she asked in shock.
“Aye, this is the human, Lais.” He stressed the word human and drew it out with clear mocking intent. “Cousin to our Brigit; I’ve been training him to fight. He still has a lot to learn.”
Lais glared at Barr.
“Though his strength with a bow has been lauded to me by his relatives.” The significance of this statement was not lost on Sabrine.
“It was you. But why?” Why would a bird shifter try to kill Barr, a wolf who so clearly stood for what was good and honorable among the Faol? And her, one of his own people?
The very idea went through her heart like a poison-tipped spear. Knees going weak, she stumbled back a little, almost tripping on the bag with the Clach Gealach Gra.
He would have taken it and done what? Kept it for himself? To what purpose?
Her throat so tight she could not speak, she simply stared at the young man who would destroy his own people.
“Sweeting …” Barr spoke softly as if to an easily startled animal.
She let her gaze shift to him. The warmth and compassion she saw in his eyes were very near her undoing.
She had spent her entire life knowing she and all her brethren were hated by the Faol, but to be so despised by one of their own? That was a gaping, bleeding wound in her soul.
“My precious warrior princess—”
“I’m not.”
“What?” he asked, oh so gently.
“A princess. I renounced my claim to the throne.”
Barr’s eyes widened.
“You’re nothing but a murdering raven.” Bone-deep loathing infused every word out of Lais’s mouth.
She would not look at him. This kind of hatred was too hard to take. “Ravens cannot murder, unless their nature has become so twisted, their bird no longer has the power to influence emotions and thought.”
“Liar.”
The sound of a blow being struck sounded. Lais oophed and fell to the ground with a thump.
Barr’s hand landed on her shoulder. “Sabrine, my own, please put your shift on.”
The mundane request almost made her laugh, but she was afraid if she started, she would not stop until it ended in hysterical tears.
“Your possessiveness is showing. We are Chrechte.”
“I am possessive.” He did not sound sorry at all.
And she did not mind. She would much rather think about her mate’s unreasonable dislike of nakedness. He’d been quick to cover her in front of Muin that first day in the forest, too.
She looked around and found her shift, pulling it on quickly. Though it made no sense to her, she felt better with this small barrier between her and the eagle shifter.
She was Chrechte, but maybe more human than she had ever realized.
She looked at Barr. “Better?”
“Aye.” He smiled, though his eyes still reflected that tender concern.
She made herself turn and face Lais. “Ravens do not murder. I have never killed except in protection of my people.”
“Ravens killed my father, the last eagle shifter.”
Chapter 21
Something snapped inside Sabrine and she stormed over to the puling hatchling. She was so tired of the deceptions, so sickened by Rowland’s legacy in a clan made up of truly, mostly good people and the Chrechte intent on protecting them. “You idiot. First, your father was not the last eagle shifter, though if you’d succeeded in stealing the Clach Gealach Gra, a generation from now would see the end of the entire Éan race.”
“Good. The ravens deserve to die. They’ve been tormenting the other Chrechte for hundreds of years.”
“Where did you hear such stupidity?” As if she didn’t know. “And I didn’t just say ravens. You would have succeeded in ending the eagle shifters, of whom there are not many, but who do still exist in freedom in the forest. You who should fight for your people’s existence would have done what the hateful among the Faol had failed to do, though they have tried for more than two centuries.”
“The Faol tried to protect my father.” But the youth’s voice faltered with lack of conviction.
Barr demanded, “What wolf tried to protect him and failed?”
“Rowland.” Lais’s shoulders drooped, his gaze dropping as if he knew already how unutterably foolish he had been to trust the former laird.
Barr snorted derisively. “The same man who raped your aunt was your father’s would-be savior? The same man who nearly destroyed the clan with his selfishness? You hid your nature from him, didn’t you?”
The boy nodded, his sadness and confusion even more evident.
“You sensed it was not safe to tell him of your nature.”
“It made no difference. I cannot pass it on.”
“You missed your coming of age ceremony?” Sabrine asked in pained tones.
Lais nodded. “My father told me about it, about how wonderful it would be, what gifts it might bestow, the ones I would lose if I did not follow the old Chrechte ways; he died before my time came.”
A great deal of Sabrine’s anger drained away. “So, you thought to make other shifters pay for your loss?”
“No. I … the ravens …”
“Would have helped your father, had we known about him. We would have made certain you had your coming of age ceremony and received all your gifts from the Clach Gealach Gra.”
“You aren’t stupid in training; how is it you still believe Rowland told you the truth of your father’s death?”
“Why would he lie?”
Sabrine answered when Barr seemed stuck for words. “Because in his own twisted way, he had a sense of justice. If you were not a shifter, a true Éan, he did not want to kill you.”
“But he …”
“Betrayed you and your family in every way possible.” Barr had plenty of words to say now.
The boy’s head bowed and though his tears were silent, she could smell them. And she could not stand his pain, but before she could comfort him, Barr was there on one knee.
He laid a hand on the young Chrechte’s shoulder. “You were deceived, like many before you.”
“But my da. He was all I had …” The words trailed off in a pain-filled whisper.
Barr did not say anything, but he remained as he was, allowing the other man to grieve.
Sabrine finished dressing and then took the pack with the sacred stone into the cave. Emotionally drained and more exhausted than she could ever remember being, she laid out the bedroll.
Lais could sleep in Barr’s plaid.
But first she would have to see to both his and Barr’s wounds.
Neither man argued when she insisted on washing the blood away with sand and water from the small loch. Perhaps they noted her tiredness, or mayhap it was the snappish tone she used to order them both to the water. A more feminine woman, one like Verica, would no doubt take a softer tone and gentle appro
ach.
You are as feminine as any woman and perfect as you are, Barr said in her mind as she carefully washed the blood and dirt from the wounds on his chest.
He and Lais would have to soak in the sacred springs when they reached them the next night, but for now this would have to do.
Thank you, she replied in mindspeak, too tired to talk even.
Barr was silent and Lais was subdued as she finished her ministrations.
Finally, she forced words from her mouth. “I am no healer like Verica, but this should help.” She examined the eagle shifter’s arm, now that it was clean of blood and dirt. “You are lucky. Barr’s dagger caused a flesh wound, but you could fly if you had to.”
“I … I am sorry. It is not enough and I deserve my fate, but I am glad I did not kill you with my arrows.” Lais bravely met her gaze.
She sighed. “Me, too.”
“While I am not impressed by your accuracy, I am pleased in this instance that you missed entirely. If you had harmed my mate, I would have no choice but to kill you.” Barr did not sound tired in the least.
“You mean you are not going to … to …” Lais looked lost for words, though she could guess what he meant.
So did Barr. “And waste my mate’s efforts at tending your wounds? I wouldna dare.”
Sabrine smiled for the first time in what felt like days.
Barr winked at her and she shook her head. Arrogant, charming man.
“You said there are more eagle shifters?” Lais asked tentatively.
“There are. If Barr approves it, I can ask them to take you to train.”
“But I’m not a full Éan. I can never be one.”
“Because you have no secondary gift? Nonsense. I am sorry the only children you can ever beget will be entirely human, but I assure you humans have been very happy with such for as long as our races have walked the earth.”
“I am a poor warrior.”
“You can be taught,” Barr said grudgingly, clearly not ready to completely dismiss Lais’s actions, no matter the confused beliefs that prompted them.
“Would you allow me to go to the Éan?” Lais asked his laird, cautious hope lacing his quiet voice.
“If I am convinced it is in your best interests, aye.”
That seemed to stun Lais. “You would care?”
“Naturally. You are a member of my clan.”
“But I tried to kill you.”
“Did you? I have seen you hunt; I have heard the stories from your proud family. You are better than my other Chrechte warriors. And your accuracy with the bow is even better than Connor’s. It makes me wonder why Rowland did not enlist your aid in his challenge with Earc.”
“He tried.”
“You refused.”
Lais drew himself up. “I am no murderer.” A stricken look came over his face. “I tried to be.”
“Nay. If you had tried, you would have done at least some damage. The truth is, you are no murderer, but Rowland was.”
“Do you really think he was the one who killed my father?”
“He or one who had his approval to do the deed.”
Lais swallowed and nodded. “I hated the ravens because it was easier than hating him.”
“Safer, too.”
“I’m ashamed to say it, but yes.”
Barr would undo Rowland’s legacy of hatred and deceit strand by strand and Sabrine could not help loving him even more for it. You are the most amazing man and Chrechte I have ever had the honor to know, she sent to him via their sacred bond.
Barr’s sudden, dazzling smile must have confused Lais because he started babbling apologies again, for trying to hurt them.
“If you had been really trying, you would have hit one of us the day you shot your bow.”
Lais shook his head. “I tried.”
“Nay. If you’d had a killing shot in mind, even my wolf’s instincts could not have saved us from at least a grazing of one of those arrows.”
A look of dawning understanding and wonder came over Lais’s features, but then he sighed and went all stoic. “I do not deserve your mercy.”
Men. A woman knew when to take a gift when it was offered, especially when that gift meant keeping her life.
“I do not agree.” Barr’s tone said that his opinion was the one that counted.
Sabrine did not fool herself into believing it was because he was acting laird, either. The man was simply too certain of his own opinions.
And right now? She really did not think he had cause to doubt himself.
The next day, Lais shifted to his eagle and rode on Barr’s shoulder. A smaller man could not have managed, but Barr was no average warrior and had no problem riding every bit as swiftly with the large bird of prey perched on one shoulder and his mate in his lap. He had insisted on holding her, as if he could physically protect her from harm with his body.
And no doubt, he could.
The giant beast of a horse seemed not to notice the additional burden, either, and they reached the caves at the sacred springs an hour after night had fallen.
Barr was relieved when his mate showed no hesitation in leading him and Lais to the secret chamber of the Éan deep in the labyrinth of caves beyond the sacred springs.
The sound of chanting reached his wolf’s hearing before his mate’s steps faltered in realization they were not alone. But she did not stop.
She quickened her steps, clearly intent on reaching the cave before the ritual was complete. She was running by the time they reached the giant cavern lit by several torches with a stone dais in the center and two pools fed by the underground springs on either side of it.
An old woman, who bore a striking resemblance to Sabrine, wore a cloak of raven feathers and spoke ancient Chrechte over a boy on the cusp of maturity. It must be Anya-Gra, Sabrine’s grandmother and the one who had prophesied the help of the Faol in the Éan’s fight for survival.
Two large men came forward, barring their way with weapons drawn. Sabrine ignored them, rushing between them, narrowly missing their reaching hands with a smooth twist of her body. To join her, Barr could see he would have to draw his own sword and he was not ready to do that.
He crossed his arms and gave each warrior a look that told them he neither feared nor intended to cause trouble.
Dismissing them, he watched as Sabrine ran to the still-chanting priestess and practically threw the Clach Gealach Gra into her hands. A strange blue light pulsed around them as both hands rested on the stone.
Then Sabrine stepped back and bowed her head.
“Sabrine-Gra Gealach, raven princess, return your hands to the Clach Gealach Gra.”
His mate’s confusion reached him across their link.
Have courage, sweeting. Do as your priestess requires.
She is my grandmother.
Even more reason to obey. His wolf was laughing and so was he, though he was careful to keep it to their mind-link.
You are arrogant.
And you are indeed a princess; now act like it.
This time she did not deny it. She returned her hands to the now-white-glowing crystal. Blue light once again began to emanate from the sacred stone.
“Taran-Gra Gealach, lay your hands on the crystal.”
The youth—this had to be Sabrine’s brother, whom she had sacrificed so much for—did as he was told, showing only slight hesitation as his fingertips brushed his sister’s.
The light flared purple and a strange hum filled the cavern, the air pulsing with Chrechte power as Barr had never known it.
The boy shimmered, red flaring around him and then he was no longer a boy, but a raven. He let out a harsh caw, his head tilted back, his wings expanded and then the light shone around him again and the raven disappeared to be replaced by one of the ancient ones. Gasps sounded around the cavern, but Barr was too taken aback to make even that noise.
A dragon, its scales so dark a scarlet they were almost black, drew its head back and trumpeted in victory be
fore breathing a stream of fire toward the ceiling.
Everyone in the cavern fell back in mingled awe and fear, their scents giving away their feelings even if their actions had not. Except Sabrine. His warrior princess reached out to actually touch the magical creature.
The dragon dropped his head and butted Sabrine with his snout. She laughed out loud. “My brother, you will be the king that saves our people.”
“With his allies, the Faol who have learned to respect all life and live among the humans as their protectors.” The old woman’s voice resonated in the cavern, going through Barr like a second, more powerful heartbeat inside his body. “Taran-Gra Gealach will lead the Éan to a new day for our people.”
As quickly as he had taken on the form of a raven and then a dragon the youth was once again in the form of a human. He dropped to his knees and bowed, giving thanks in ancient Chrechte to the Creator of all things. Then he stepped into the pool on the right of the dais, submerging entirely and then standing with a triumphant shout.
His coming of age rite of passage was complete.
“There is a broken one among us,” the priestess intoned in that power-pulsing voice. “An eagle whose soul carries the guilt and pain of false beliefs that have torn at his heart.”
Lais looked in panic at Barr.
“Do not fear. This is a good place and she cares for all Éan.” He knew he spoke the truth, though he’d never met Anya-Gra or even known of her existence before this trip.
Lais nodded and turned, stepping forward as if mesmerized.
The guards had fallen back like all the others when Taran had taken his dragon form. But they stepped forward now, as if to prevent Lais from approaching the priestess. And then, they moved aside as if under direct command, though Barr had heard no word spoken.
“Place your hands on the Clach Gealach Gra, young Lais.”
“How do you know me?” he asked with awestruck tones.
The old woman smiled, compassion showing in eyes the same color as her granddaughter’s and filled with an ancient wisdom Barr could not but admire. “The Creator knows all and I do his bidding.”