Chapter 23

Cora

Though they had indeed won the battle for Ossory, the price had been steep. Bodies littered the ground, both Kilkenny men and madraí. The only thing that made the sight of so many dead easier to bear was the knowledge that they’d paid the English back thrice over for every man they’d lost.

Cora marched through the battlefield like a woman possessed. She searched the faces of the dead, and every time she came across a face she recognized, she closed her eyes and said a prayer for their soul.

She’d been through half the bodies when she found him—Bran. Until then, she’d kept her tears at bay, but the sight of the stable hand crumpled on the ground with nothing but an old pitchfork made it impossible to hold them back any longer. She dropped to the ground and took his hand in hers. Tears streamed from her eyes as she forced herself to look at him. To see what this battle had cost them.

Cillian crouched beside her. “Who was he?”

Cora let out a shuddering breath. “His name was Bran. He worked in the stables, and he—he’s the one who told me stories about you.”

Cillian laid a hand on Bran’s shoulder, grasping it like he might one of his luchthonn. “He has my thanks, then. For his sacrifice and for his part in sending you to me.”

“Cora!”

Cora’s head whipped up, scanning the area until she found the source of the voice. Across the courtyard, her father stumbled toward them.

“Da!” Cora was on her feet in an instant. She flew across the stone yard, dodging the injured and dead until she could throw herself into her father’s arms.

“You’re alive. Thank all the saints, you’re still alive!” Her father murmured prayers against her skin as he kissed her hair and face.

They held each other close, rivers of tears flowing down their faces. When they finally pulled away, his eyes went wide.

“What happened to you, lass? Who’s done this to you?”

Cora quickly explained the events of the night, detailing Edwin’s plans for Ossory and the luchthonn. When Cillian approached—his wolf’s skin considerately wrapped around his hips—her father clasped his arm.

“You have my thanks, Fane. Without you and your luchthonn, I would have lost everything I hold dear tonight.”

Cillian clapped her father on the shoulder. “Your men fought well, Fergus. They defended their homes with strength and honor. You should be proud.”

Her father straightened, his head held high. “I am. It was a hard-won victory, and we lost many good men. They deserve a warrior’s funeral. I would be honored if you would wish for any of your dead to be buried with them.”

Cillian shook his head. “My thanks, but we’ve our own traditions for such things.”

“I understand. Will you leave soon, then? With Edwin dead—well, I can’t imagine his advisors will be quick to bother with us. They’ll be busy enough crowning a new king.”

Cillian glanced at her, and she understood his question without needing to be asked. It warmed her heart that he’d take her desires into consideration when he had so many others to worry about.

She nodded. “We’ll stay to help with the burials and repairs. But after that, we’ve our own home to see to.”

Her father nodded, pulling her in for another embrace. “You’ve made me so proud, A stór . What father could ask for a more valiant daughter?”

Cora laughed and replied, “And here I thought daughters were supposed to speak softly and worry about their needlework.”

“Perhaps so, but I doubt any of them would bite a king!”

Cora released her father and returned to Cillian’s side. As they turned to help the others, her father stopped them. “I wonder... there’s a plot of land close by. It’s rich land—plenty of game and a stream running through the nearby woods. It’s not the land you’d settled on before, but... it’s yours, if you’d like it. You’d be closer to the castle—if that’s what you want.”

Cora looked up at Cillian hopefully, and yet again, they needed no words to understand each other. Cillian nodded and squeezed her hand as he said, “Aye, we’d be honored.”

CORA RACED THROUGH the trees, the path ahead barely visible. Above her, the full moon cast fractured rays of light onto the ground, and Cora used them to weave her way deeper into the woods. This time, she’d not allow herself to be herded out into the open. If she was to be hunted, her predator would have to catch her among the trees. It was better here. She could maneuver through the trees much easier than the wolf, even in the low light.

A howl pierced the night, and a shiver of anticipation ran up her spine. It had been months since they’d been able to get away like this. A pulse of warmth spread between her legs as she imagined the beast on her trail. He’d given her more of a head start this time—promising to make it a proper hunt. If she could evade him for fifteen minutes, he’d promised to let her train with the luchthonn women when they visited Clann Abhaile in the spring. If he caught her, though... Cora’s mouth spread in a wicked grin at the thought of what he wanted.

She ran faster, determined to have her prize. She’d taken a winding path through the woods, planning to follow a large circle back toward the pack’s new home. Construction was well underway, and with luck, they’d finish before winter. The luchthonn and madraí worked tirelessly each day, bolstered by whatever men her father could spare from the castle. Cillian worked just as hard as the rest. Every time she saw the pride in his eyes at a new roof or sturdy foundation, she thanked God for her foolish idea of wedding the mercenary Wolf King.

A sound to her left caught her attention. A large shape moved through the trees beside her, matching her speed and baring sharp white teeth that were visible even in the dim light.

Cora yelped and tried to veer away, but it was too late. The creature leapt and knocked her to the ground. Sputtering in the dirt, Cora stared up into the bright blue eyes of her wolf. He growled again before dropping his weight onto her body and licking her face.

Cora gasped and protested, “Get off me, you great bloody horse! I can’t breathe!”

A moment later, the wolf was gone, and Cillian loomed over her with a playful expression. “I may be a great bloody horse, but you, wife, are a wee bunny rabbit caught in my trap. Do you surrender?”

Cora huffed. “You could have at least chased me a bit longer. Let me dream of winning?”

His laughter was like sunlight in her heart. “I could have. I do enjoy chasing you, after all. But really, it’d be cruel to give you too much hope.”

Cillian leaned in, pressing his body to hers. They kissed leisurely, neither in a hurry to move things along. They had all night.

They had the rest of their lives.

Cora pulled away far enough to meet his eyes. “Promise you’ll always catch me?”

Cillian pressed her hand to his heart and kissed her again. “Aye, my love. I promise.”

THE END