15 ASK ME AGAIN IN THE MORNING

CAILEAN brOKE THEIR stare first. Jaw clenched, he fed some more wood to the fire and waited for the tightness in his chest to ease.

He couldn’t believe he’d spilled his guts to her.

To a Shee spy.

By The Hag’s nails, he wanted to hate her. Instead, he’d told her about his past, about his family, and about his thirst for revenge that wouldn’t be quenched until Eilig was dead.

Bree had suggested that Enya might still be alive, but twenty years with Eilig would have broken her. The fight master was more likely to have killed her, or she might have died birthing the whoreson’s child.

Ice washed through Cailean’s veins at the thought.

Meanwhile, the silence between him and Bree drew taut, like a bowstring.

The tension in his chest didn’t loosen as he’d hoped. There wasn’t the sense of relief that usually came after unburdening oneself.

Drawing in a deep breath, he fixed Bree with a penetrating look. Enough talking about him. It was his wife’s turn. “How did you find me?”

“I traveled from place to place, asking if anyone had seen a huge enforcer traveling with a fae hound.” Her mouth quirked. “You were harder to track down than I thought you’d be.”

Cailean snorted, eyeing her. “What happened when you returned to your people?” he asked brusquely.

Bree pulled a face. “I went before the Raven Queen and lied. She was pleased that I’d warned her of your planned attack at Sheathan, but angry I’d left Duncrag without her leave.” Resentment crept into her voice then. “Having eyes in the High King’s broch was important to Mor.”

Cailean snorted. “You made a terrible spy, Bree.”

She winced at this yet didn’t argue with him. “Aye, well … I’ve made a living by letting a sharp blade and quick reflexes do the talking. I wasn’t prepared for all the sneaking and pretending.”

“Did Mor punish you?”

“No, she merely cast me aside. I didn’t see her again. Granted, she’s been busy … amassing an army.”

Cailean tensed at this admission, and marking his reaction, Bree’s mouth curved into a humorless smile. “Aye, you can’t be surprised. The High King has a sizable force camped at his gates too … the war that has been building for some time will begin soon.”

Suspicion flickered to life in Cailean’s gut. Was his wife withholding things from him again? “Do you know when and where the Shee will strike?” he demanded, his voice hardening.

Bree shook her head, irritation flaring in her golden eyes. “I told you … Mor ignores me these days.” She grimaced then. “I did ask around … but no one would talk to me.”

Cailean’s lips flattened. If she expected sympathy, she’d be disappointed.

Feeding more wood to the fire, he then considered what she’d revealed. “Your people will strike before the snows come,” he said finally. “Before it gets too cold.”

“Aye. Golval and Deeping are the closest barrows to Duncrag … I imagine Mor will send her warriors through there.”

Cailean met her gaze again, noting her guarded expression. It likely mirrored his own. She was on edge, awaiting further accusations from him. Aye, Bree had seemed sincere when she told him that she hadn’t known that the ambush in the Hallow Woods would come early, but Cailean’s suspicion that she was holding things back lingered. The Shee were as cunning as they were beautiful. Many Marav tales told of how they could be kind one moment and cruel the next. And the female seated across from him was an assassin.

Something occurred to him then, and he leaned forward, searching her features. Firelight played across her gilded skin and made her tawny eyes glow like Skaal’s. “How old are you, Bree?”

Her lips lifted at the corners as if she’d been expecting him to ask this eventually. “Three hundred and two.”

Cailean straightened up, something clenching deep in his chest. He shouldn’t have been surprised—for he knew that Shee could live for thousands of years—but the knowledge that she’d been born around the time of his great, great grandsire made uneasiness stir inside him.

No wonder, even as a Marav woman, her eyes had been so knowing.

The moment drew out before Cailean broke their stare. He then cleared his throat. “It’s been a long day … we’d better get some rest.” Indeed, he was bone-weary. Traveling through howling wind and rain and then fighting for his life had drained him—as had this conversation. And even the glow of the fire couldn’t warm the chill that had settled into his bones.

“Aye,” she replied softly. “Cailean … can I accompany you to Morae?”

He glanced up to find Bree watching him, her lovely face solemn, her eyes pleading.

His chest clenched. Gods, he wished she wouldn’t look at him like that. “Why?” he asked roughly.

“I know you still don’t trust me,” she went on, her throat bobbing, “but I’d like to help you find this Eilig. When you do … you might need someone to watch your back.”

His first impulse was to tell her he didn’t need her help. Yet, the sudden vulnerability in her eyes checked him. That, and he didn’t have the energy to argue with her any longer.

“We’ll see,” he grunted, wrapping his still-damp, heavy fur cloak about him and rolling onto his side, next to where Skaal had stretched out her long body. “Ask me again in the morning.”

Bree slept badly. Cailean had built up the fire, yet the cold still gnawed at her. Halfway through the night, the rain started again. Curled up under her sodden woolen cloak, she listened to it patter around her. In the meantime, her mind turned over the things Cailean had told her, examining them from every angle.

The riddle that was her husband had been solved. Now she understood why he was such a hard bastard, why he’d been determined to cut himself off from others.

She’d cracked his shell—because of her, he’d set off on a quest for vengeance.

She had to stay with him. They were meant for each other. And with time, he’d realize it too.

Eventually, dawn broke, grey and misty, and Bree rolled to her feet. Her damp clothing itched her skin, and the morning’s chill dragged at her lungs. Ignoring her discomfort, she turned to face her husband.

Cailean was kicking earth over the smoking ruins of last night’s fire. The rain had done its best to put it out, yet he was making sure. Unlike her, he looked as if he’d actually slept; his face was fresher and less strained, his eyes brighter.

“Well?” she asked huskily. “What is your answer?”

Cailean glanced up, his gaze glinting. “That’s an abrupt way to start the day,” he replied. “How about a ‘good morning’ first?”

Bree swallowed. “Good morning.”

She tracked him as he shifted back from the fire and moved over to his stallion. Feannag nudged him with his nose. Stroking the horse’s noble face, he slipped on its bridle. “Very well,” Cailean spoke the words so quietly that Bree almost missed them. “Although you aren’t to interfere in my business … is that clear?”

“It’s clear.” Bree’s heart kicked against her ribs. “So, that’s an ‘aye’?”

He shot her a warning look before nodding.

“You won’t regret this.”

He pulled a face and stooped to retrieve Feannag’s saddle. “I already do.” Swinging the saddle onto the stallion’s back, he then set about tightening the girth. “Morae crannog is half a day’s ride from here.” He cast a glance over his shoulder at where Tivesheh stood, his white coat gleaming even in the morning’s dull light. “However, the road will get much busier from this point on … you can’t ride in on your stag.”

“I’ll travel with you then?”

His shoulders tensed in reply before he gave an abrupt nod.

Bree’s stomach fluttered. Shades, this was awkward.

Not pushing her luck any further, she moved across to Tivesheh. Follow us … but keep yourself hidden . She stroked Tivesheh’s smooth neck. White stags are rare in Albia … I don’t want a hunter finding you.

They’ll have to be fast to catch me. Tivesheh tossed his head. Whistle and I will come .

Bree smiled and slapped him on the shoulder. Go then.

Turning swiftly, the stag bounded into the trees. She watched him go, a familiar sense of loss tugging at her chest.

“I’ve always wanted to be able to do that.” The rumble of Cailean’s voice drew her attention then, and she glanced over her shoulder to see that he’d mounted Feannag and was watching her.

“Do what?”

“Touch minds with animals.” His gaze flicked to where Skaal sat a few yards away, waiting for them to depart. “What do you and Skaal talk about?”

Her lips quirked. He sounded almost jealous. “That’s between two lasses.”

Cailean harrumphed, although a rare flicker of mirth softened his gaze. “Have it your way then.”

“Skaal understands you,” she said then.

Cailean cut the fae hound a sidelong look. “Really?”

“Aye … she just can’t answer back.”

He shook his head slowly. “Gods,” he murmured. “All the times I’ve ranted at the poor beast.”

Skaal made a sound in the back of her throat, halfway between a growl and a yelp, and Bree swallowed a laugh. Aye, he’s a grumpy prick .

Cailean’s gaze flicked between them before his mouth pursed. He then jerked his chin over his shoulder, making it clear she was to get up behind him. “Enough talk. Let’s get moving.”

Bree moved forward and vaulted up onto Feannag. The moment she was astride the stallion, she stiffened. The heat of Cailean’s back was a furnace, and she quelled the urge to lean into him. Instead of looping her arms around his waist though, she rested her hands upon her thighs.

Her nostrils flared as the heavy tang of iron assaulted her senses. A tremor then rippled through her. The blades he wore strapped across his chest were uncomfortably close. Fortunately, he’d taken his broadsword off his back and strapped it, and the dagger he usually wore at his hip, to the front of the saddle.

Nonetheless, the proximity to iron made her break into a sweat.

Feannag moved off then, springing into a jolting trot. The movement threw Bree’s body up against Cailean’s—and the feel of the strong muscles of his back and the scent of leather and woodsmoke triggered memories.

Of Duncrag. Of the one night they’d spent in each other’s arms.

Pushing thoughts of that encounter to the back of her mind, she attempted to settle properly into the saddle and adjust herself to the horse’s stride. The harsh reek of iron caught in the back of her throat, and she coughed.

Shades, she’d have to put up with this all the way to Morae.

You wanted this , she reminded herself then. It’s too late for regrets.