by Jayne Castel
“She was a brave lass,” Muin rasped out the words, his own eyes stinging. “This shouldn’t have been her time.”
Talor angled his head toward him then. His sea-blue eyes were aflame. “Cathal will eat iron for this,” he growled, “and I will personally feed it to him.”
Muin held Talor’s gaze. He knew it was only anger and grief talking, yet his cousin’s vehemence concerned him. “Don’t seek the path of vengeance, Talor,” he said, deliberately keeping his voice low and soothing. “It’ll only destroy you.”
Talor’s face went rigid. “Let it,” he snarled. “As long as I bring that Serpent turd down with me.”
With that, Talor spun on his heel and strode away.
Muin let him go. Talor was too angry to argue with. He would only lose his temper if Muin tried to talk to him again. It was better to let him be, let the rage burn out of him.
Even so, misgiving feathered down Muin’s spine as he watched Talor storm off. Although close, they were very different men. Muin had always felt boring and predictable next to his hot-headed, charming cousin. Once they had reached manhood, Talor attracted women to him with ease, whereas there had only ever been one woman Muin had ever wanted. Talor enjoyed female attention, even deliberately going after unavailable women over the years. He liked the chase as much as the capture. Muin was too straight-forward to enjoy such complications.
Once again, his focus had been wholly on Ailene.
There was a reckless side to Talor that Muin had never understood. He, like all in Dun Ringill, had heard the tale of how bitter and angry Talor’s father, Donnel, had become after losing his first wife. His uncle raged at the world for a long while afterward. Only Eithni had been able to heal him.
Turning back to the cairns, Muin wondered if Talor was about to set off down the same path—one that could potentially destroy him.
Muin remained at the cairns for a while longer. They were a peaceful place, for the dead did not chatter. In the valley below, the sounds of industry and voices rose and fell as work got underway to clear the debris from the village. Shortly, Muin would join them, but for a moment longer he lingered at the tombs.
“I thought I might find you here.” A soft female voice intruded upon his introspection. An instant later a hand brushed against his.
Muin glanced left to see Ailene at his side. Smiling, he interlaced her fingers with his. “I followed Talor up here,” he admitted, “but he’s not in a sociable mood.”
“I know … I passed him on the way here. He looked right through me.”
Muin drew Ailene close and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t take it personally … he’s filled with grief and looking for an outlet. I didn’t say much to him, but my few words were enough to make him angry.”
Ailene’s arms fastened around Muin’s torso. She leaned into him, and the stress and strain of the morning drained away, cloaking them both in a gentle cocoon of contentment.
“You’re strong, Muin,” she murmured against his chest. “Not just physically … but inside where it really counts. You’re my anchor, especially now when our world is in chaos. When I’m with you, I feel like I can face anything.”
Muin’s mouth quirked. He placed a kiss on the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of rosemary from her thick peat-brown hair. “You’re my strength too,” he murmured. “I can weather any storm life throws at me, if you’re at my side.”
Epilogue
Curious Things
Balintur
Territory of The Eagle
One month later …
THE SNOW WAS falling, delicate flakes fluttering down from a colorless sky. Ailene stepped out of the hut and angled her face up to it. She closed her eyes a moment and let the first flakes settle on her skin.
It was nearing the eve of the ‘Long Night’; Mid-Winter Fire had arrived and with it the first snow of the bitter season.
Drawing her cloak around her, Ailene made her way through the village toward the south wall, where Muin was taking his turn at watch. It was late afternoon and the light was low; night would settle early, especially now the snow had come.
As Ailene walked, she took in the signs of industry around her. They had done much in the last moon. Many of the dwellings inside the walls had been rebuilt; only a few folk still resided in tents, and those had now been moved inside the walls for safety, and protection from the biting wind that could blast this side of The Winged Isle at times.
The hut she now shared with Muin had been rebuilt. While her lover had been standing guard on the wall, she had decorated the interior of their dwelling with boughs of scented pine. She had also hung holly from the rafters. A rich venison stew, which she would serve with oaten dumplings, had been bubbling over the fire pit all day. The meal would end with a heavy cake made with oats and dried plums, dripping in honey and served with thickened cream.
A huge oaken log that Muin had dragged in the day before burned in the hearth. They would enjoy watching it smolder for the next twelve days, as it encouraged sunlight and warmth to return to the earth.
Ailene could not wait to see Muin’s face when he returned to the hut; it looked like a forest dell and was filled with delicious aromas.
Passing through the central clearing that had a new meeting house at one edge, Ailene skirted around a huge, unlit pyre of oak branches. After dark they would light the fire and pass around cups of warmed mead as they watched it burn.
Ailene reached the ladder that led up to the south wall and climbed up.
The snow was falling more heavily now, a silent flutter of white that settled over the surrounding hills. Spying Muin up ahead, Ailene waved to him.
He grinned as she approached. “Is that drualus in your hair?”
Ailene reached up and patted the sprays of green mistletoe that she had woven amongst her curls. “Aye, mo ghràdh,” she said sweetly. “It is Mid-Winter Fire after all.”
“You look beautiful,” he replied, his grey eyes warm. “Especially with snowflakes dusting you like stars.”
Ailene smiled at the compliment, stepping close and kissing him gently on the lips. “How much longer till your watch ends? I have a feast awaiting you back home.”
“Not much longer,” he assured her. “Talor should be here soon.”
The good humor drained from his face then at the mention of his cousin. Ailene knew that he worried about Talor. They had all hoped his grief would lessen with the passing of time, yet he had become surly and solitary, often deliberately choosing shifts on the wall that would allow him to avoid spending time with friends and family. Even on nights like these.
Muin stepped closer to her. “Do you have your telling bones with you?” he asked.
“Aye … why?”
“Can you cast them?”
Ailene raised her eyebrows. “What … here in the snow?”
His mouth curved. “You haven’t cast the bones in many days … now is as good a time as any.”
Ailene sighed. He was right. After the attack on Balintur, she had been wary of using her abilities as a seer. She was sometimes afraid of what the bones might tell her.
“I know you’re nervous,” Muin said softly, as if reading her thoughts, “but you mustn’t shy away from your gift. Come … cast the bones and tell me what you see.”
“Very well.” Ailene reached for the pouch at her waist. “But don’t blame me if they bring ill tidings.”
She poured the bones onto her palm, her fingers closing around them. Then she hunkered down and cast them at her feet. The telling bones clattered across the stone, coming to rest amongst the sprinkling of snowflakes.
Ailene’s brow furrowed as she studied them.
“Well?” Muin asked when silence stretched out. He lowered himself down next to her, his gaze scanning the bones carven with the symbols of their people. “What do you see?”
“Curious things,” Ailene replied. She glanced up, catching Muin’s eye.
“No ‘Death Tide’
this time?”
“Thank The Hag no … and no dark times ahead for The Eagle either.”
Muin’s gaze widened. “That’s welcome news. What else?”
Ailene turned her attention back to the bones, leaning forward as she studied them more closely. The marks of the serpent, the eagle, and the selkie have fallen together,” she said, “which hints that there will be a union between our two tribes.”
“Between The Eagle and The Serpent?” Muin’s voice was incredulous. “Are you sure?”
“I’m only telling you what I see.” Ailene cast him a stern look. “Interpret what you will from it.” She then leaned forward once more. “There’s something else … a sign I haven’t seen in a long while.”
Ailene reached out her hand, her fingertip tracing a line from where the sign of the rising moon sat above that of the cauldron. A smile stretched her face as realization settled. Finally, a reading of the bones that did not twist her belly into knots and make her break out into a cold sweat.
The Gods were capable of giving her good omens as well it seemed.
“What is it?” Muin asked, impatience creeping into his voice. Her silence was making him uneasy.
Still smiling, Ailene turned to him, cupped his face with her hands, and landed a stinging kiss upon his mouth. “Peace is coming to this isle,” she announced.
Muin’s eyes flew open wide in surprise, but Ailene was already reaching for her telling bones and scooping them up. “Come,” she said, her smile widening to a grin of excitement. “We need to go and tell the others.”
The End
Preorder Book #3 of The Pict Wars: WARRIOR’S WRATH
Book #3 is going to be just as much of a rollercoaster as the previous two!
In this story we focus on Talor and Mor. WARRIOR’S WRATH explores love between two people of warring tribes, but it’s not your classic ‘enemy to lovers’ story. Instead, this romance centers on the idea of ‘what if your soulmate belonged to the enemy camp’.
Talor mac Donnel goes into occupied territory seeking vengeance for his slain sister. But he gets much more than he bargained for when, instead of killing the man responsible for his death, he is taken captive. And when he meets his enemy’s proud daughter, Mor, everything he thought he believed about life and love starts to unravel.
WARRIOR’S WRATH (Book #3: The Pict Wars) will be released on February 20, 2020.
Preorder your copy now!
AMAZON.COM
AMAZON.CO.UK
AMAZON.CA
AMAZON.COM.AU
Have you read Book #1 in this series? Discover Fina and Varar’s story in WARRIOR’S HEART.
Find out where it all began with THE WARRIOR BROTHERS OF SKYE series. This series starts twenty years before THE PICT WARS and tells the story of Galan, Tarl, and Donnel—and the three strong women who love them.
Follow me on Facebook and/or my blog to keep updated on my upcoming books. Or you can join my mailing list (not only do you get updates, exclusive stories, and a chance to join my ARC list, but you also receive a free prequel short-story to my WARRIOR BROTHERS OF SKYE series!).
Did you enjoy WARRIOR’S SECRET? Help spread the word …
Consider leaving a review! As a reader, you have a chance to make a real difference. Reviews are crucial to a novel’s success. Please take a moment to leave a review on Amazon. It doesn’t have to be creative or long, just honest. Thank you!
AMAZON.COM
AMAZON.CO.UK
AMAZON.CA
AMAZON.COM.AU
From the author
I hope you enjoyed the second installment of THE PICT WARS.
WARRIOR’S SECRET was the first ‘friends to lovers’ tale that I’ve written, and I enjoyed exploring the development of their relationship. How do you go from seeing someone as ‘just a friend’ to being passionately in love with them? How do you deal with knowing that the love of your life doesn’t feel the same way? I loved Muin’s quiet strength, and Ailene’s courage and sensitivity, and hope you did too!
As this book is set back in the mists of time, there were few historical events for me to anchor my story on. However, I have woven in a few cultural details I hope you appreciated.
In order to bring Ailene’s role as seer to life, I had to do a bit of research into druidic practice back in ancient times.
Druids, both male and female, had important roles in ancient Celtic societies. I have two bandrui (female druids) in this tale. They did indeed divine the future in a number of ways: through visions, casting bones, or observing the flight or birds or formations of clouds. During the novel Ailene spends time in an oak forest. Oaks were a sacred tree for druids. In Pictish society, druids would have acted as priests, teachers, and judges. It was a role held in high esteem. Druids did not fight in battles, and spent their entire lives in training. They believed that the soul was immortal and passed on at death from one person to another.
The use of herbs was also important in druidic practice. For the ancient Druids, the healing and magical properties of herbs were inseparable from the larger cycles of the seasons, the movements of the planets, and the progression of human life.
Druids used herbs when creating rituals to celebrate festivals and significant life passages such as births, house blessings, weddings, funerals, and naming ceremonies. The ancient druids had nine ‘sacred’ herbs. They were henbane, mistletoe (drualus), vervain (verbena), clover, wolfbane (aconite), primrose, mint, mugwort, and anemone (Pulsatilla). Divining wands were often made of yew or ash.
Half way through the story, Ailene has an encounter with one of the ‘Fair Folk’ or the Aos Sí (literally ‘people of the mounds’) as they were also known. I thought it would add some richness to the story, especially given Ailene’s role as seer. The Aos Sí were a fairy race in Irish and Scottish mythology. They are said to live underground in fairy mounds, across the western sea, or in an invisible world that coexists with the world of humans.
In ancient times, folk would appease the Aos Sí with offerings, and care was taken to avoid angering or insulting them. Often they are not named directly, but rather spoken of as “The Good Neighbors”, or “The Fair Folk” (as in my stories), or simply “The Folk”. The Aos Sí are generally described as stunningly beautiful, though they can also be terrible and hideous.
See you again soon, with another tale from the Dark Ages!
Jayne x
Historical and background notes
for WARRIOR’S SECRET
Glossary
Aos Sí or Fair Folk: fairies
bandruí: a female druid or seer
Broch: a tall, round, stone-built, hollow-walled Iron Age tower-house
Caesars: the Ancient Romans
mo ghràdh: my love
Place names
An t-Eilean Sgitheanach: Gaelic name for the Isle of Skye
Dun Ardtreck: a broch located on the Minginish Peninsula of Skye
Dun Ringill: an Iron Age hill fort on the Strathaird Peninsula of Skye
An Teanga: an Iron Age broch located on the southern coast of Skye
Dun Grianan: an Iron Age broch located on the north-western coast of Skye
Balintur: village in the north of The Eagle territory
The Black Cuillins: mountain range in the Isle of Skye
The four tribes of The Winged Isle*
The People of The Eagle (south-west)
The People of The Wolf (north-west)
The People of The Boar (south-east)
The People of The Stag (north-east)
Gods and Goddesses of The Winged Isle*
The Mother: Goddess of enlightenment and feminine energy—the bringer of change
The Warrior: God of battle, life and growth, of summer
The Maiden: Young goddess of nature and fertility
The Hag: Goddess of the dark—sleep, dreams, death, winter, and the earth
The Reaper: God of death
Festivities on the Isle of Skye*
Ear
th Fire: Salute to new life and the first signs of spring (February 1)
Bealtunn: Spring Equinox
Mid-Summer Fire: Summer Equinox
Harvest Fire: Festival to salute the harvest (Aug 1)
Gateway: Passage from summer to winter (October 31/November 1)
Mid-Winter Fire: Winter Equinox
* Author’s note: I have taken ‘artistic license’ when it comes to the names of the tribes, festivities, and gods and goddesses upon the Isle of Skye. The historical evidence is very scant, making it a challenge for me to get an accurate picture of what the names of the tribes living upon Skye during the 4th century would have been. Likewise I could not find any references to their gods and festivities. The Picts were an enigmatic people, and we only have their ruins and symbols to cast light on how they lived and whom they worshipped. To make my setting as authentic as possible, I have studied the rituals and religions of the Celtic peoples of Scotland, Ireland, and Wales of a similar period and have created a culture I feel could have existed.
The culture, language, and religion of the Picts is one largely shrouded in mystery. Unlike my novels set in 7th Century Anglo-Saxon England, which is a reasonably well-documented period, researching 4th Century Isle of Skye proved to be a challenge. Pictish culture is largely an enigma to us. However, they did leave behind a number of fascinating stone ruins, standing stones, and artifacts, as well as a detailed collection of symbolic art.
