21 A MEETING ON THE ROAD

“WILL YOU KILL him tonight?”

Cailean’s broad back tensed against Bree at her direct question.

“Probably not … I should take part in a blood-letting first.” He paused then. “Once we arrive in Cannich, I won’t waste any time finding myself a sacrificer.”

“You haven’t participated in the ceremony since partnering with me?” Her pulse fluttered then as she remembered the intensity of the blood-letting, how it had felt to have earth magic surging through her veins.

The tattoo of Feannag’s large hooves on the road echoed through the still morning. Skaal loped alongside, silent and watchful. They’d left Morae at first light, and if they rode swiftly, they’d reach The Upland capital by dusk.

“No … I haven’t had the opportunity.” Cailean’s left hand, which had been resting on his thigh while his right held the reins, moved to her arm, his fingers sliding down to her wrist. “But there’s a full moon out tonight … and I will make the most of it.”

In response, Bree laced her fingers with his. Arms clasped loosely around Cailean’s waist, the warmth of the sun on her face, she felt almost at peace with the world. The eve before had been an upheaval, a sundering of sorts, but what had begun in despair ended in joy. She’d been ready to walk away from Cailean—and then he’d surprised her.

It also was a relief not to be in pain any longer. Ever since applying the whin ointment to her arm, the wound no longer burned. Shee healed fast once whin counteracted the iron; the cut would be scabbed over by the evening.

“I could tell that the Druthin warriors drained you,” she admitted then.

“Aye … more than I care to admit,” he replied with a sigh. “There’s a fatigue dragging at me now, one no amount of sleep can cure.”

“Not even a few more vigorous tumbles with your wife will help?” she teased, her mouth curving.

Cailean laughed, his fingers tightening around hers. “Do you want to wear me out?”

Bree snorted, heat kindling in her lower belly as she recalled the wild night they’d just spent. It was no surprise Cailean was tired. She was too. They’d had little sleep in the end.

“I hope this band of fighters is still in Cannich,” she said, turning the conversation back to more serious matters.

“They will be,” he replied. She heard the edge to his voice, the urgency that simmered just beneath. “Gateway is upon us, and Eilig won’t want to be on the road when The Slew come out to play.”

A pause followed before Bree cleared her throat. “Can I partner with you again … tonight?” Her pulse quickened then. The ritual was an intense, if unnerving, experience. Yet the blood-letting bonded them, and she was eager to share that closeness with him again.

Cailean squeezed her hand. “You can’t, Bree … not now you’ve returned to your Shee form.”

She stiffened against him. “Why not?”

“Because the sacrificer would see through your glamor, and even if they didn’t, the moment the ritual began, you’d be unmasked.”

“Of course.” She kicked herself for not grasping the obvious. “Sorry … I wasn’t thinking.”

A hollow sensation settled in her belly then. She was Shee and he Marav, and there were some things they could never share.

Sensing her shift in mood, Cailean tightened his grip on her hand once more. “I wish it were different … but taking part in a blood-letting with you would be too dangerous. It might not even work … Shee blood and earth magic have never mixed well.”

“You’re right,” she answered, cursing the sudden huskiness in her voice. “I don’t know why I suggested it.”

A strained silence fell then, and Bree was struggling to think of something to ease it, when specks in the distance caught her eye. Her gaze narrowed. “We’ve got company.”

Cailean released her hand and leaned forward. “I can’t make them out,” he muttered. “What do you see?”

Her keen eyesight scanned the dark shapes on the horizon. They were riding through a wide glen, sculpted peaks dusted with emerald-green rising up on either side. “Rows of men upon heavyset horses.” She saw them clearly now, their spears bristling against the washed-out blue of the sky. “Warriors.”

Cailean growled a curse. “Great, that’s the last thing we need.”

Bree tensed. “They aren’t looking for you?”

“No … but I’m supposed to be dead, remember?”

“Aye.” Bree cut Skaal a sidelong glance. The fae hound still ran at their side, and as the glen they rode through was bare of vegetation, there was nowhere for her to hide. “How could I forget?”

All too soon, the warriors approached, the Cannich banners—a bloodied ax against a field of charcoal-black—visible now. However, when the lead riders spied Cailean, they brought their horses to a halt, waiting for him to reach them.

Before they did, Bree hastily glamored herself, even as her pulse quickened to a canter. She had to be ready, in case things went ill.

The rider nearest, an angular man with hawkish features and long red hair tied back at the nape, viewed Cailean with interest before his attention shifted to Skaal. The fae hound had halted at Feannag’s side.

The man who had the bearing of this group’s captain turned his attention to Cailean once more, raking his gaze over him. “I’ve heard the High King’s chief-enforcer travels with a fae hound.” His gravelly voice carried in the still morning air. “But I didn’t expect to meet either of you today.”

Bree’s racing pulse slowed, relief washing over her. Clearly, word hadn’t reached Cannich of Cailean mac Brochan’s demise.

“Aye, well … you have,” Cailean drawled back, and it struck Bree how easily he slipped back into his old role. It fitted him so well. Did he miss the power he’d wielded, the awe and respect he inspired among the Marav?

“And what brings you to the far north, mac Brochan?”

“The High King’s business.”

The captain raised ruddy eyebrows. “Aye?”

“Aye.”

An awkward silence followed, swelling until the captain’s brow furrowed. “I suppose that’s to be expected,” he grumbled. “Since he’s traveling north too.”

Bree’s breath caught at this news, while Cailean’s broad back tensed against her. However, he recovered swiftly. “The High King is expecting me to meet him at Cannich. Do you know how far away from the fort he is?”

“I’m not sure,” the captain replied. “Although his armies had reached Dulross around five days ago.”

Bree’s heart kicked. She hadn’t expected Talorc mac Brude to leave the safety of Duncrag, especially now—and the discovery that he was bringing an army into The Uplands made her uneasy. What was the bastard up to?

“I will wait for him at Cannich then,” Cailean replied, his tone offhand now.

The captain cast him another probing look. “The overking will be pleased to see you, mac Brochan. He has many questions about the High King’s plans.”

Cailean gave a non-committal grunt, making it clear that he’d only share what mac Brude had permitted him to.

The captain scowled at the chief-enforcer’s rude response.

Another silence fell, and Bree started to sweat. They reminded her of a pair of stags in rutting season: staring each other down, deciding whether it was worth locking horns.

Moments passed, and the captain urged his horse on, raising his hand to let his company know they were on the move again.

As he passed Cailean, the two men eyeballed each other. The captain then took a good look at Bree. Her skin prickled under his inspection. It was likely none of these warriors knew that the High King’s chief-enforcer had taken a wife. But even if they had, they’d be wondering why he was traveling with her, alone, in the northern reaches of The Uplands.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” she muttered as Cailean urged Feannag into a canter, and they left the company of warriors behind.

Cailean snorted. “Aye … until I learned that the High King is on his way.”

“That was a surprise,” Bree admitted. “What’s he planning?”

“No idea.” He paused a moment, tension rippling through his big body once more. “You said there was an army rallying at the gates of Duncrag nearly a moon ago?”

“Aye … a sea of wolf, stag, and shield banners was camped there,” she replied. “Although I thought they’d gathered to defend the capital.”

“They might have been,” he answered, his voice hardening. “But clearly … something has changed.”