18 AN OUTSIDER

“FEAR NOT,” brEE replied, deciding it was best not to make Mor’s brother shit his breeches. “I’m not here for you.”

Flynn’s brow furrowed, even as his fingers tightened around the grip of his eating knife.

“I’ve left Sheehallion too,” she admitted then, “although not through the stones.” This wasn’t the time or place to regale him with the tale of her past six moons.

Over two hundred and fifty years ago, when they’d been younglings, Bree and Gil had been friends with Mor’s younger brothers, Grae and Flynn.

But time had changed many things.

She shifted her attention to the woman next to her. High spots of color had risen to her pale cheeks, her green eyes shadowed with fear. “You must be Ava,” she murmured.

The woman swallowed. “I haven’t gone by that name in a long time.”

“No,” Bree answered, her voice lowering. “Not since you were wed to Talorc mac Brude. You did a fine job of making him believe the Shee stole you away. He’s persecuted my people ever since.” She glanced Flynn’s way once more. “And Mor hasn’t forgiven you either … although she knows the truth.”

Aye, that her brother had passed through The Ring of Caith and given up his long life. For a Marav.

“I don’t expect her to understand,” he replied, his tone still wintry. “Or you.”

Bree stiffened at the scorn that now laced his voice. Naked suspicion hardened his face.

She was aware of Cailean’s gaze upon her then, stabbing into her like twin blades.

A warning.

She ignored his stare. Let him fume. She’d return to their table when she was ready. After all, he’d just made his feelings clear.

“She must be special,” Bree said then, trying to ignore the ache in her chest. “To give up your long life for.”

Flynn stared back at her, and as the moments passed, his gaze softened just a little. “She is,” he murmured.

“But you’re aging now,” Bree said with a shake of her head. Indeed, crow’s feet radiated out from his eyes, and lines furrowed his brow and either side of his nose. Silver threaded his once jet-black curls. Lowering her voice again, lest anyone overhear, she continued, “You could have lived for many centuries more, and seen the rise and fall of countless High Kings of Albia, yet you’ve given it all up … for her. Why?”

Her gaze flicked back to Ava, whose mouth had now pursed. “Sorry,” she said, favoring her with an apologetic smile. “But I’m just trying to understand.”

“Do you even have to ask, Bree?” Flynn replied, drawing her attention once more. “Or are you so lacking in empathy that you fail to see the obvious?” His dark eyes gleamed. “I gave everything up for love … and I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

Heat swept over Bree. She wanted to tell Mor’s haughty brother that she knew what love was. Nonetheless, envy tightened her throat as the moments drew out. Flynn was now part of this world, yet she’d always be an outsider looking in.

“I do sometimes think about Sheehallion,” Flynn admitted softly, “and those I left behind.” He leaned toward her. “How are my kin? Has Mor exiled Grae yet, or have they finally buried their differences?”

Bree went still.

The heat drained from her, a deep chill replacing it. For the first time since rising from the table opposite, she regretted approaching Flynn. Of course, he had no idea what had transpired in Sheehallion in the years since he left.

“They never reconciled,” she admitted, her voice roughening.

Flynn’s gaze narrowed. “No?”

Bree shook her head. “In the end, Grae tried to overthrow your sister … and in response, she put a price on his head.” Flynn’s lean body went rigid, but she pushed herself to continue. “I killed him.”

“That woman was Queen Ava?” Cailean came to an abrupt halt. Turning to Bree, he then reached out and pulled her around to face him.

They’d left the ale-hall and had been walking back to their lodgings. And along the way, Bree revealed the identity of the man and woman she’d spoken to. And as she’d done so, her manner was stiff, unusually formal.

Dusk was settling, and lads were out lighting the torches and braziers that would illuminate the crannog once night fell. The air was raw, and their breathing steamed in clouds before them, a sign there would be a frost the following morning.

But Cailean barely noticed the cold. Instead, he stared down at his wife’s taut face, marking the shadows in her hazel eyes. “Aye,” she whispered.

“I thought she was dead.”

“No … just in hiding.”

Cailean’s gaze searched her glamored features. There was a distance between them now, one he wagered had little to do with her conversation with the Raven Queen’s brother, and everything to do with him. He should have been relieved, but to his surprise, he wasn’t.

All the same, he took care to remove his hand from her arm.

“Your reunion didn’t end well,” he said after a brief pause. Indeed, he’d seen the fury that had rippled across the man’s face, the way his hand had clenched hard around his eating knife. “I thought he was going to stab you through the throat.”

She snorted. “I’d just admitted I killed his brother … it was my last job before I departed for Duncrag in the spring.”

Cailean cocked an eyebrow. “That’ll do it.”

“We were friends once,” she admitted then, reaching up and pushing a strand of oaken-colored hair from her cheek. “When we were younglings. But over the years, things changed.”

Cailean’s gaze roamed across her face, taking in her pale skin and the scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. They were just an illusion though, and his druid eyes allowed him to see the shimmer that now surrounded her.

“Aye, well … there are some relationships that can never be mended,” he replied. Misgiving stole over him as he thought of Enya. He’d let his sister down all those years ago. Had she hated him in the end?

Shaking himself free of regrets about a past he couldn’t change, Cailean stepped back from Bree then, and they continued walking toward their lodgings. Above them, the first of the stars twinkled in the clear night sky. The moon was rising, just a night away from being full.

Entering the lean-to, he found a jug of bramble wine sitting on the table near the door and two wooden cups. Their hosts had stopped by while they were out.

“Wine?” Cailean asked as he shrugged off his cloak and hung it by the door. Bree’s strange mood was starting to get to him. They both needed to relax a little, especially before he brought up the subject she’d so abruptly terminated earlier.

“Very well,” Bree replied, her voice dull.

The instant they were indoors, she’d let the glamor fall, and a golden Shee woman stood before him once more. However, her lovely face was strained, those tawny eyes veiled. There was a brittleness to her he’d never seen before.

Hanging up her cloak, she moved over to the stool she’d placed back from the iron pot over the fire earlier. Cailean put on a log, and she watched as the hungry flames devoured it. Her expression turned distant.

Suddenly, she seemed far away.