by Lucy Monroe
His eyes widened. "There's another woman with you. Where is she?"
"You tell me," Neilina challenged, intolerant of demands from one so young and incautious.
"Her scent goes toward the forest."
"And that is all you smell?" Perhaps bears were plentiful on this island, so her companion would not cause comment.
"There are no men. How did you get here?"
Neilina gave them a wry look. "The boat not three feet behind me did not give you a clue?"
"You did not navigate that craft alone."
"I didn't?" Neilina asked, her annoyance growing.
Did her own Faol brother not even recognize her scent? Yes, she'd masked it, but she'd allowed a little through when they arrived and she had determined fully they would be no danger to Frey or Dìonach. Their scents gave them away as not only Chrechte, but men of decent character.
The Faol's light brows drew together. "You are a woman."
"And a woman cannot take up oars in a boat? She cannot direct the sail?" Were the Chrechte women among his pack really that dependent?
Neilina refused to believe it.
"Of course a woman can do those things," the Éan said with assurance and another frown for his friend. "Women can be strong warriors."
"Ah, so you have been taught the true way of the Chrechte, not followed the way of humans who train their women to helplessness." Neilina was glad. It would make her job easier.
"Our lady is a human woman and don't ever let her hear you say she is helpless," the Faol said with pride.
"And who is your lady?" Neilina asked, wanting very much to know if at least the first leg of her journey was over.
"She is Abigail of the Sinclair."
"And your laird, is he your alpha?"
"How do you know what we are?" the Éan demanded with suspicion.
Neilina allowed her scent to waft in the air around them, her Chrechte power to surround the two men as she'd been taught to do so long ago. "I am protector of our people, here to seek out the Sinclair, the alpha who wears the green and blue colors, and the alpha who wears the red and black."
"The alphas?" the Éan asked.
"Protector?" the Faol asked at the same time.
"Aye," she said to both.
"But you are a woman."
"We have covered this."
"The one who would have been our queen, chose to be warrior instead," the Éan said with some acerbity to his friend. "I have told you this. Your own Lady Abigail is formidable of will if not stature."
"Neilina is both," Freya warned the men as she and Dìonach approached.
Neilina noted the appreciation in the gazes of both men as they looked upon her adopted daughter even as Neilina scolded the young woman. "I told you to stay in the woods."
"You told me to go to the woods. Not to stay. I would have remembered." Freya pushed her blonde hair behind her shoulder, shifting her cloak so her weapons were easier to reach in one movement.
Though she approved the subtly defensive action she'd taught the girl, Neilina glared at her daughter. "You knew what I meant."
"I suppose next time you will spell it out." Freya did not sound too worried about the prospect.
Neilina could not take time to reply.
The two soldiers had suddenly decided to show some caution and had drawn their swords. Had they pointed them at her, she would not have cared, she could disarm them easily enough. But they were advancing on Dìonach, worry strong in the air around them.
Neilina didn't bother to tell them to put their swords down, she wasn't going to risk her companion of so many years getting an accidental injury from overzealous boys.
She used her the antlers at the top of her staff to catch the sword from the Éan's hand and wrenched it, tossing the weapon a fair distance away. Before it landed, she'd kicked the wrist of the young Faol soldier hard enough his hand released the sword as he cursed.
They both rounded on her. "Why did you do that?" the young Eagle shifter demanded.
Neilina drew herself to her full height. Tall for a woman, she was still an inch or two shorter than these young soldiers. From the looks on their faces, that did not in any way make her less intimidating. Good.
Her hand out to Dìonach in silent command to come to her, she instructed the men, "Do not ever draw your weapon on me unless you plan to use it."
"Same goes for me," Freya said, her own sword out now, her body angled so that she could not be as easily disarmed as they had been.
"We were intent on protecting you from the bear."
"Dìonach is my friend." Neilina put her hand in the thick brown fur of the bear's ruff. "Any who would harm her will feel the kiss of my blade."
"Your staff more like." The wolf shifter cradled his wrist against his chest. "That thing is wicked sharp."
"And not my primary weapon. Do not test me," she did the service of warning them.
The Éan lowered his head toward her in respect. "That was not our intention, lady."
"I am not called lady."
"By me you are," the Éan insisted. "You're as fearsome as our own princess. You're probably of the royal line, as well."
Neilina shrugged. Aye, she'd been born to a family directly descendant from their royal lines, but it mattered little now.
Of her family, all but she, were dead and gone.
"You're a princess?" Freya asked. "No wonder."
"No wonder what?" the Faol prompted her.
"My mother is very bossy."
Neilina frowned at Freya. "I am conriocht." She took a deep breath and corrected herself and all because her mate had claimed something she could no longer deny. "Kelle, and it is my right and responsibility to care for my people."
"Oh, no, not another one," the wolf shifter said with a groan.
Freya looked amused. "Another one, what?"
"She sounds just like our prince," the eagle shifter said.
"Prince of the Éan?" Neilina clarified. Could that be the dragon she'd seen in her dreams?
Both soldiers nodded. "We never thought out laird would suffer another to be leader among his people, but the Sinclair has accepted Eirik Taran Gra as an equal."
"As he should." If Eirik was dragon, all conriocht and pack alphas owed him allegiance. It was the way of their people.
***
Neilina learned much about the Sinclair clan and the Chrechte among them on the long walk to the keep. It took two days because of how late they'd started their journey.
The young soldiers that had found her upon arrival were called Everett and Beathan. Everett was the wolf and older than his companion, though he still behaved much as an untried, if not untrained, soldier would.
It confused Neilina until she discovered the soldiers tasked with patrolling that beach acted more as messengers between the Balmoral pack and the Chrechte among the Sinclair, than guardians. Still, the packs would have to take the security of their borders more seriously if their current peril was to be overcome without a great loss of life.
Neilina's arrival with her companions had caused a stir among Chrechte and human alike. Many looked askance at her bear as Dìonach walked beside her, the scent of fearing growing with the size of the crowd as they approached the gate to the inner bailey.
It made Neilina's spine tingle with the need to shift to protect. Even knowing they feared, not an enemy, but her bear. And perhaps even her.
Men and women, Chrechte and human alike, watched her and Freya in goggle-eyed wonder. Had they never seen female warriors before?
Not one woman wore any clothing but the plaids that were so long most had pleats that brushed the tops of the women's feet. Not a practical garment for fighting in. Not all of the clan wore the Sinclair colors though. Some wore plaids made up of the colors of the forest.
Neilina wondered if these were the Éan. Even though Beathan wore the traditional plaid of the Sinclair clan, that did not mean all his people had taken on the colors of their adopted clan.
/> Laird Sinclair, an imposing presence, stood beside his lady wife just this side of the drawbridge that led to the inner bailey. He looked just as he had in her visions, his dark hair long with warrior braids at his temples, blue eyes assessing her, he stood a good six inches taller than her own five-feet-ten. Power radiated off him like the heat from a rumbling mountain. There could be no doubt this man was conriocht.
Another woman, young enough to be daughter, whose spirit was a near physical presence around her, stood on his other side. The celi di. She stood between the laird and a Chechte that could be no other than the dràgon Neilina's visions had sent her in search of.
He might mask his scent, but the blood red sheen to his black hair and glow in his amber eyes revealed his nature for what it was.
This was dràgonrì, king of their people, no matter what the humans claimed in their petty wars for territory.
Neilina dropped to one knee, putting her fist over her heart. "I pledge my allegiance and my strength to the protection of our people. I give you my loyalty and very being."
"You're pledging to the wrong man," someone said. "That is not our laird."
"Women do nut pledge such an oath of fealty," a masculine voice, craggy with age, opined.
Neilina ignored their mutterings. The humans, and maybe even the Chrechte, would not know that this was the dragon. He could be the one and only king over all the Chrechte races and he would reign until he died. That would not be for many centuries to come because it was near impossible to kill one of his kind. The aura of power around him was too great to be anything other than that which provided the ultimate guardian to their people.
After a long moment of silence, even the children among them did not break, the dragon reached out his hand and touched her forehead. "I am Eirik Taran Gra and I accept your pledge."
The magic of their stones shadowed his voice, going through Neilina's body and leaving her near breathless.
"Maybe she's Éan," she heard someone whisper, too low to be picked up by any but the most sensitive ears. "Some have not yet realized they owe their allegiance to our laird, though they've been among our clan for more than three years."
The wolf shifter did not sound happy, a feminine grumble of assent sounding no more pleased.
Neilina surged to her feet so fast she knew to the humans among them it would seem a blur. She spun to face the offender and her gaze settled on a Chrechte dressed in the garments of blacksmith, his leather apron still covering his plaid.
She stalked over to him, speaking with vehemence but low enough only he or another Chrechte very close by would hear. "Do you think only the Éan pledge their loyalty to the king?" she demanded, her hand on the hilt of her short sword.
That aged voice sounded again. "He's no king." No effort was made to speak low or hide the discussion from the humans among them.
Neilina's gaze went quickly to the laird, who did not look happy at the turn of conversation. But she could not tell if that was because they spoke of matters they should not before the whole clan, or her pledge of loyalty to the dragon had angered him.
"He's a prince, I heard Niall say so." A young voice continued the conversation and the laird winced.
Neilina stared at the mix of Chrechte and humans around her, then back at the dragon and the man who claimed to be his laird. Laird over a king? How could that be possible?
Had the Chrechte lost their way so badly, they did not even know that a dragon was only ever called forth by the stone when all needed to be unified under one leader?
She walked back to the laird. Though her instincts had told her he was also conriocht, Neilina did not fear him. She'd pledged her loyalty to the dragon. He had accepted that pledge with more than words, but with the power of his own Chrechte magic. He was now bound by Chrechte law to protect her.
Did he know that?
Not that it mattered. She did not need protection. Not even from another of her kind.
She stopped before the laird and bowed her head infinitesimally. "I have much to say, but I believe a private audience would be better."
The Sinclair nodded, sending a glare to some in the crowd. The ones who had spoken out of turn in front of their human clanspeople?
They began walking toward the large building, grander than any the marauders had built on her home island.
"Your pet is not going into my keep," the Lady Abigail informed Neilina, no give in her tone.
Nevertheless, Neilina turned to the woman and gave her a very rare smile. "I would consider it a personal boon, if you would allow Dìonach to accompany us. She is part of my family and these people are restless and nervous of her."
Bethean said, "A bear cannot be part of the family."
"Your horse is part of yours," someone else claimed. Laughter sounded around them.
The Lady Abigail did not look convinced, however. "My children are in the keep. Until I am convinced of the bear's tame nature, she stays outside."
"She is by no means tame, but will never hurt your children. Dìonach has only ever harmed those that would do me, or Freya, harm."
"She protects you?" Laird Sinclair asked.
Freya answered before Neilina could. "Aye. My mother raised Dìonach from a cub. She recognizes us as her family. If you give her the chance, Dìonach will protect your children as well."
"I protect my children," the Sinclair said with typical male arrogance.
Neilina approved. She, too, was confident in her ability to protect those she cared for. As she now was determined to do for Dìonach. "Aye, as is your right, but surely your soldiers share the responsibility. Because they are part of the clan, your family."
Rumbles of assent sounded around them.
"That is different, your bear is not one of my soldiers."
"No, and Dìonach will take no orders but mine," Neilina acknowledged.
"Not even his?" Freya asked pointing at Eirik Taran Gra, curiosity burning in her brown eyes.
"Nay," Neilina assured her daughter. "Dìonach is bound to me, no other."
"The bear is bound to you?" the woman Neilina believed to be a powerful celi di asked.
"Aye, since I saved her life as a cub. I raised Dìonach in my home." Neilina had also bound her with the stone, but was not going to say so until she knew such revelations were being made in safe company.
"What kind of home was sufficient for a bear? Did you live in a cave?"
"Aye." Freya answered that question, her expression daring the crowd that followed them to keep asking more, or denigrate the nature of their former home. Neilina's daughter had clearly hit her limit of tolerance for idle curiosity.
Nevertheless, she reacted with gentle patience when a small girl came up and asked with wide eyes, "Did you really live in a cave? My lady will gives you a good bed. She takes care of all of us."
The lady in question looked quite taken by the child's statement.
Freya smiled down at the little one, her scar puckering her otherwise flawless features, the expression as rare on her face as it was Neilina's. "Our home was cozy and warm, but Dìonach had her own cavern where she could rest not bothered by the heat of our fire."
The girl looked up at her mother. "I wants to live in a cave. I wants a bear to be my friend."
The woman, an Éan by scent, shook her head. "We left our forest home behind when you were but a babe. We've settled in here." Though something in the Éan woman's eyes said maybe they weren't as settled in as she claimed. "Your baby brother has known no home but this one. Now you would have us return to the forest?"
"I don’t want to live in the trees," her daughter denied. "I wants to live in a cave."
Why had the Éan lived in trees in the forest to begin with, why were they only recently joined to the clans? And was it safe to discuss such matters in front of the humans of the clan?
"If you will not allow my bear into your keep, we can finish our talk outside," Neilina offered. "But I believe the laird should choose carefully who I tell
my story to."
Even the Chrechte could not all be trusted. According to her dreams, the Fearghall had access to the clans and that access was unlikely to come through humans.
Not with the Fearghall believing any but the Faol were inferior to them.
***
Haakon climbed out of the small boat that had brought him and his weapons to the shore of Balmoral Island. The merchant ship, large enough to transport cattle and goods could not land on the beach with no dock. His horse had made the journey with him and swam to shore beside the small rowboat carrying him.
The Norse sailors left Haakon on the beach, his bundles of belongings at his feet. Haakon sniffed out water and led his horse to a natural stream where he washed off all residue of saltwater from the animal's coat before drying the black warhorse with a cloth Haakon had brought with him.
Afterward, he led the animal back to the beach, where they settled in to wait, as Artair had suggest he do, for the guards that patrol the beach to find them.
According to Artair and his clansman Gart, no longer mate, only one clan lived on the island. The Balmoral, led by the alpha of the pack who live among them, Lachlan. Artair had suggested, and the Seer had demanded, that Haakon speak to Lachlan, to warn him of the coming peril before traveling to the Sinclair clan to make his promise of fealty to the Chrechte king.
The dragon shifter who was the Éan prince and mated to the daughter of the pack alpha.
Artair had said the dragon did not consider himself a king and Haakon wondered at this. Even he, who had been raised to only know his own people, knew that a dragon among their kind was meant to be king.
Outside of politics or country boundary lines.
No Chrechte in the world should go against the dragon, especially not the guardians of their people.
Only the dragon could send Haakon back to his own people, but first he would accept Haakon's oath.
Osmend didn't believe the asmundr would return to Groenland.
Haakon did not know what outcome he hoped for. He was staring down centuries of life without his mate. He was not sure it mattered where he lived and served his people. His homeland gave him no comfort. His people did not need him. Not like in the days of old and not with Einar there to see to their safety.