Taran inhaled deeply in disapproval. “I have sensed tha she is carrying a heavy secret, as well. She will nah speak of it… but who do we know tha would’ve heedlessly placed such a burden of knowledge upon our wee Skye’s shoulders?”
They exchanged an irritated look.
“Sorcha,” they declared in unison.
Skye’s unplanned afternoon nap did not last nearly long enough before it was abruptly ended by a violent nightmare. Without warning, she lashed out in blind terror. To Ciaran’s utter disbelief, she punched and kicked wildly at him before Taran managed to restrain her from behind and bring her out of the dream.
Once she was conscious of her surroundings and realized what she had done, she broke down in tears. She immediately rushed to Ciaran and clung to him as she sobbed repeated apologies. Ciaran cradled her in his arms and assured her that there was nothing to forgive. He rocked and shushed her even as he looked to Taran in open alarm. The possibility that she might truly be losing her mind was unlikely, but one that terrified him to consider.
She dodged their questions with practiced ease before insisting that she needed to go up to her favored place on the rooftop to clear her head. A doublewide chaise lounge and several chairs had already been placed there – temporary fixtures until they could complete her permanent lookout point atop one of the old silos.
The moon was set to rise within the next hour or so. Given her plans to cast protections over the den the following night, she needed to draw as much energy from the moonlight as possible. They were also set to take out the final local fògarach club in operation that night and she had to get her head right.
Taran followed her up to the roof at a distance. He had Ruarachan wait at the stairway door while he ventured out after her, watching carefully for any signs that she was not herself. She called him out on it as he approached.
“What is it, Taran?” she sighed without turning. “Before you ask, it was just another stupid nightmare, okay? I’m fine,” she insisted.
Despite her words, when he walked in front of her and she reluctantly met his gaze, there was a deep sadness in her eyes. Taran frowned at the sight. He drew her into his arms, studying her features carefully.
“My beloved, wee Queen, ya must tell me what pains ya so greatly. It wounds me to see ya this way,” he whispered ardently.
Skye opened her mouth to dismiss his words, to once more insist that there was nothing wrong. She slowly closed her mouth as she realized there was no point. She was too tired to keep up the charade in vain. Smoke and mirrors never worked on Taran. He had always been able to see right through her masks.
Sighing in defeat, she averted her eyes. “I can’t, Taran,” she whispered back brokenly.
Taran noted her abandonment of denial. It was a step in the right direction, at least. “This is nah just aboot a nightmare. There’s more troubling ya,” he declared with a worried frown. “It’s been there since the very moment Sorcha brought me back to life. I’ve seen it dancing in your eyes…” His fingertips traced her brow before moving lower, caressing the corner of her mouth. “…and drawing tight the edges of every smile tha comes to these lovely lips. I’ve seen it weighing more heavily upon ya with each passing day. Have I caused this? Was it my passing tha wounded your heart so?”
Skye gave him a stricken look. “That’s not it,” she insisted. “I mean, yes, it almost killed me to lose you, but… that’s not it.”
His eyes bore into hers intensely, as if he could find the answers if only he looked hard enough. “Then what did I miss, my love?” he whispered remorsefully. “What pain have I failed to shelter ya from?”
Skye shook her head and sniffled as tears rolled down her face. “Please don’t ask me that,” she choked out. “It’s nothing you did or didn’t do, babe. I promise. It’s just… It’s not my secret to tell.”
A moment of silence passed between them, a moment where Taran decided to point the finger in the obvious direction. “Sorcha, then,” he ground out knowingly. His expression grew bitter as he stroked her hair. “It was She tha placed this burden upon ya.”
Skye’s tearful eyes immediately became locked on his chest.
Taran’s jaw clenched furiously at the silent confirmation. He fought down his anger that the Great Mother (who was now basically his Great Mother-in-Law) had given his beloved some terrible knowledge to carry alone. He knew all too well the toll it took to carry secrets and keep them from the one you love.
Skye burrowed further into his embrace, hiding her face against his chest and gripping his back.
Taran sighed and kissed the top of her head. “All right, my love. All right. We needn’t speak of it now, if tha is your wish. But I beg ya, confide in me. Trust in me,” he pleaded before sitting down on the chaise lounge with her in his lap. “Ya named me as your King before the clan. So, allow me to be your King…” he whispered as he gazed deeply into her eyes. “…in every possible way.”
She whimpered appreciatively when he cradled the back of her head in his hand, drawing her closer until his lips met hers in a passionate kiss. He slowly urged her onto her back and moved atop of her, covering her body with his own.
They took advantage of the rare privacy. Not that either ever minded Ciaran’s presence, it was just nice to be alone together from time to time, to fall in love all over again. Her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of security and love she always felt in his arms. He was her sanctuary – the one place in all the world where she surrendered completely.
A gasp escaped her as he kissed his way down her jaw and throat. His touches still had this effect on her, they fanned the flames of an indescribable and overwhelming yearning. She wrapped her arms around his back, eagerly running her fingers along the lines of his broad shoulder blades. She reveled in the feeling of his warm flesh – so soft and supple as it stretched over his powerful, masculine form.
Given Skye’s weariness, Taran was gentle and sweet. He kissed and tenderly touched every inch of her body. He made her feel precious and beloved. His rumbling words of adoration put her mind at ease. Taran made her thankful to be alive – regardless of the horrors that likely lie ahead for her. No pain this world could send her way would ever take away the pleasure and peace she found in his embrace. And when he made love to her, it was always a symphony. Every hungry kiss and touch an enchanting note, every change in pace and intensity adding to the masterpiece. He dazed her, sent her mind swimming to a place reserved only for them. She gladly lost herself in the sensations and emotions of their union.
Beneath the light of the rising moon, her beloved King provided a blissful release. And in that moment, in order to keep on fighting, it was precisely what she needed.
When they had each reached their ends, Skye nestled into his reassuring embrace and stared up at the moon. She could sense the power there, shining down upon her. She felt it filling her up, allowing her to recover her strength to face another day.
She wished Sorcha was there. She needed Her council, guidance, and protection. Something was wrong. Great Mother help her – something was very, very wrong. Skye’s deepest, darkest fear was that it had something to do with that dreaded secret… That terrible truth known to only Skye, Sorcha, and Faolan.
Skye took a deep, steadying breath. She clung to Taran a little tighter as she thought back to the moment she had been granted this unwanted knowledge…
ONE MONTH PRIOR – FOREST OF FAOL SEUNTA
Skye watched sorrowfully as Taran’s lifeless body was placed on the ground in the clearing.
“Leave us,” Sorcha instructed the other faoil. She waited for them to go before turning back to face Skye.
“So, I’m here now,” Skye began weakly, her voice devoid of emotion as she mourned her dead mate. “That means Brandubh’s lost his bargaining chip. Does that mean you can… I don’t know… cast a fògarach-extermination spell or something? Do a little hocus pocus and wipe them off the face of the earth for good? Because if you can, I’m going to hav
e to demand that it involve a great deal of pain before they die. I’m thinking dismemberment, burning, something excruciating,” she said bitterly. “They shouldn’t get off as easily as ‘poof!’ and they’re gone.”
Sorcha studied her intensely. When She finally spoke, Her question caught Skye completely off guard. “Do ya love Ciaran?”
Skye tore her gaze away from Taran’s body and looked up at Sorcha in surprise. “Of course!” she insisted quickly. “But why…?”
“How deeply?” Sorcha pressed gravely.
“I’d die for him,” Skye answered without hesitation. “He’s my dark one. My little blue-eyed devil,” she said with a sad smile before her brows drew together in confusion. “Why?”
“Would ya sacrifice his life in order to avoid this struggle?” Sorcha asked. “If the cost of killing every fògarach was Ciaran’s suffering and life, would ya be willing to make that trade?”
Skye’s face fell at the very thought of losing Ciaran, too. “NO,” she declared firmly. “If it were up to me, Taran wouldn’t have died, either. Living forever without them would be worse than any torture I can imagine.” Her eyes filled with tears as she looked over at Taran. “Ciaran is the only one who will help me survive this. A part of me has already died with Taran. If I lost Ciaran, too…? It would be the end of me.”
“Then I can nah cast a spell to prevent the coming war,” Sorcha said quietly. Seeing the confusion on Skye’s face, she took a deep breath and reluctantly explained. “In the beginning, when Latharn was seeking out men of noble hearts to change to faoil, I awoke one night in sweats,” Sorcha recalled. “For barely an instant, I had sensed a man, heard him screaming in rage and grief. And in his moment of purest pain, I was able to perceive something tha had been hidden from me. This man, this stranger, had been sired by Brandubh himself. I could hear it in his heartbeat – my own magic and the blood of the raven – both inherited from his father.
“I wanted him to suffer unimaginably for Brandubh’s crimes,” Sorcha swore venomously, recalling her rage. “Vengeance would be mine. For my child, I would have him. He would know suffering at my hands. I would use him against his father. For his life, I would demand Sitheag’s return. I sent Latharn to find him. I used our link to guide him and, the following morning, they reached the man’s home…” She trailed off, tears filling her eyes as she recalled it. “But what we found there was nah expected…” she whispered. “The man, every bit as beautiful as his father, was clutching a child in his arms… a wee babe just a bit older than my own had been… She had been killed by the blood-drinkers.”
Skye shook her head in disbelief. She took a step back, unable to believe what she was hearing. “He… He can’t be…” Skye tried.
Sorcha gritted Her teeth and pressed on, knowing that Skye was beginning to understand. “The murdered child was his daughter and he was suffering deeply for her loss. I could taste his grief, feel his heartbreak. I sympathized with him. I realized tha his father did nah care for him. Brandubh held no loyalty in his heart, even to his own blood. He had allowed this man’s daughter to be taken away even more irrevocably than mine.” Sorcha looked up at Skye sorrowfully. “The grieving man’s name was Ciaran. It means ‘dark one,’ as I once called Brandubh. It was the only name his father left behind after forcing himself upon Ciaran’s mother.”
Skye took a shocked intake of breath and reached out for the closest tree to lean on for support. Her legs failed her, and she leaned heavily upon Faolan as he guided her to sit beside him on a rock.
Sorcha watched them for a moment before continuing. “The name tha falls from your lips for Ciaran is what I always called my black feathered companion. When I turned him into a man, his black hair always reminded me of what he had once been. I never stopped calling him ‘my dark one.’ I decided to show mercy to this beautiful stranger, Ciaran. Taran and Drostan went to him. They asked if he wished to join us, to fight the blood-drinkers and have vengeance for his child. He accepted the bite more willingly than any before or since… But once he was turned we found something… troubling. Ciaran was nah aware of his own heritage.”
“And you’ve never told him,” Skye breathed in astonishment.
“How could I?” Sorcha demanded. “Can ya imagine what tha knowledge would do to him? To know tha the father who abandoned him is the very creature responsible for his child’s murder? Tha his blood is the same as tha which flows in Brandubh? What would ya do if tha burden was placed upon your own shoulders? If ya had to stomach the knowledge tha the one responsible for your family’s slaughter was your own flesh and blood? I could nah bear to put him through tha pain. So… I took the memory of it from Latharn. No one else aside from Faolan and I would carry the knowledge. And now, I entrust it to you, dear Skye. Ciaran is yours, and he is utterly unique. My curses upon his father did nah affect him because he was sired before I cast them. He inherited his father’s purest gifts. I am sure ya have noticed tha he is unlike the other faoil. He is the union of four powers. He carries within him my magic, along with the blood of the raven. He possesses the noble heart of a man, as well as the spirit of the wolf given with the bite. As ya sensed when ya met him, he was destined to belong to ya for these reasons.”
Skye shook her head. “I took two lovers… a raven and a wolf,” she whispered in disbelief. After a moment, she turned to Faolan. “This is why you were so amazed that Ciaran and I had bonded. Is it why you were so hard on him when we came into the forest?”
Faolan sighed and nodded guiltily. “I have ever loved Ciaran as my own, ya must understand tha. But… in tha moment, I feared he was giving into his heritage and trying to bring harm upon us. I wish so tha my thoughts had nah taken such a cruel path. He did nah deserve my distrust.”
Skye squeezed Faolan’s hand and gave him a weak but understanding smile. She turned back to face Sorcha. “Is this why I felt like I knew him when we met?”
Sorcha smiled to Herself as she answered vaguely, “A part of the reason, yes.” She shook Her head and pondered something before continuing. “The spells I used to create Brandubh bound him to my magic. As those spells were passed to Ciaran, ya are both feeling tha same bond. It was his fate to love ya, to be drawn to ya and loyal to ya. It is in his very blood. I have watched over him through the eyes of his brothers over the passing centuries. I have always been fond of his humor and love of mischief. But most of all, I have greatly admired his unwavering loyalty. It is a strength his father could ne’er know,” she sighed. “Unfortunately, my fondness for Ciaran prevents me from targeting the brathadairean – even now tha ya have Returned to us safely. I honestly do nah know whether he would be harmed by my power, but I can nah bear the thought of him unjustly suffering for his father’s crimes.”
“Nothing is ever easy,” Skye whispered bitterly. “So, no spells – just hand to hand to kill these bastards.”
“I will teach ya how to cast contained spells, but Ciaran mustn’t be nearby when ya wield them,” Sorcha warned. “Ya must send him away beforehand. I have no way of knowing what would happen to him, were he to remain.”
“And I’m sure as shit not looking to find out,” Skye assured her.
“Nor am I,” Sorcha agreed. “But know this, my child. A day is coming when ya will have to choose whether to protect Ciaran from this truth or reveal it to him. I can nah guarantee how he would take such a thing. It would certainly be unbearable to learn.”
Skye sat in stunned silence with Faolan rubbing her back and kissing her forehead. This little Q&A session with Sorcha had resulted in some wholly startling revelations. Skye was struggling to let it all sink in. Things were a great deal more complicated than she could have ever imagined.
As she sat on the rock beside Faolan, her eyes wandered back and forth between the glowing form of Sorcha and the body of her beloved and broken mate.
Sorcha had offered to heal Skye’s wounds, to ease her pain from the injuries that she had sustained in the crash and her brief battle with the fògaraich
. Skye had adamantly refused. She had left Taran to die. In her mind, the last thing she deserved was to have her suffering alleviated. If anything, she should have been out there with the others in that moment, fighting to the death against the creatures that had taken Taran from her. Unfortunately, the glowing Goddess did not seem to want her to go anywhere.
“And Taran,” Sorcha continued, crouching down beside him before looking up at Skye. “Ya love him deeply, as well?”
“He was my heart,” Skye managed in a strained voice. It was inconceivably painful to speak about him in the past-tense. “Ciaran is my friend, lover, confidant, and equal. He knows my soul as I know his... but Taran was a different kind of love. To the woman and wolf in me, he was my mate….”
6: Discordance
PRESENT DAY – PHILADELPHIA, PA
Even though it was incredibly difficult, Skye forced herself to carry on as usual and focus on her duties as Queen. Drostan came to inform her that the carving of the sigils was completed, she only needed to charge them. She thanked him for his quick work and was greatly relieved to be one step closer to having the added layer of protection for her pack.
In what had become an evening ritual, the ancients and elders gathered to discuss strategy. Skye and Taran stood together at the head of the table which held a large, touchscreen monitor. On it, a world map was displayed.
Ciaran stood to Taran’s right, though he was admittedly bored through most of these meetings. He made it clear that his personal talents had nothing to do with war, he just wanted to make sure he ‘was seen’ by the clan as taking an interest.
Aodh, Skye’s General, stood behind her, grim-faced and at full attention. She relayed his questions and comments to their clansmen without him needing to use his sign language.
Ruarachan stood in a similar post behind Taran.
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