Laughing, she kissed me. ‘I know. It’s all right. I know about binding, I know what it is.’
‘Do you?’
‘Of course. I heard Griosach went into the sea. After her man Broc was killed. They were bound, weren’t they?’
‘See, you’re a full-mortal, and…’
‘And I won’t be around for long.’ She put her fingers over my lips. ‘Not in your terms. But long enough for me.’
‘And don’t worry if I’m not faithful,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t matter. We’re not like that.’
That, it seemed, was pushing my luck. Almost as hard as she pushed my chest. I grunted with shock as I was thrown back onto the mattress.
She sat up, tugging the sheet across her breasts and slapping my supplicant hand aside.
‘You may not be like that,’ she said icily, ‘but I am. It’s not much to ask, Seth. It’s not for long, after all. Not in your terms.’
Lost for words, I blinked. We faced each other across a sea of crumpled linen. Tentatively I reached out my mind, but she glared back, her dark eyes like flint, so that I had to back off. She looked so fierce, so determined, all I could do was grin.
‘Then I’ll be faithful,’ I said. ‘You’ve no respect for a foreign culture, have you?’
‘None,’ she said crisply, though this time she let me take her hand. Her gaunt pretty face twisted as she fought her own laughter, and then she gave in to it.
‘And if that’s your promise, Seth,’ she said, ‘Go ahead and always touch me.’
30
Her dark brown hair would have been lovely tumbling down her back. It probably was, once. But I wasn’t lying when I said I loved it anyway. I thought that again as I rode at her back to the forest a month later, my arms encircling her to hold the reins, the first frost of autumn singeing the air. I liked the brown crop that was like a seal’s pelt. The stubble had grown enough to camouflage the still-raw scars where the razor had hacked off her hair, but it was short enough to show every angle and curve of her beautiful skull.
I don’t make the seal comparison lightly. I’d swum with her in the rolling breakers of the north bay, and she was lithe and graceful as a selkie in its skin, her eyes as dark and deep; and when she broke the surface, laughing, her damp dark pelt of hair was beaded with silver. She was no longer shy of her nakedness, not when she swam with me. And not when she lay beside me in the echoing stone silence of my room that was no longer too big and graceful for me.
The October day felt keen and fresh in my nostrils; I was both sad and relieved to see the end of summer. It had been my first summer back at home and yet an unnamed dread had hung over it with the heat, an oppressive promise. We were still exiles, my brother and me. We had come home. The two were not compatible.
I knew Kate was only waiting.
* * *
It should have been too cold for us to fall asleep in the woods that day, but cheating the cold was no longer difficult for me, and Catriona was kept warm by my body. I never felt the cold as much as I used to; after two harsh winters in the blackhouse I had sworn I’d never be so cold again. Not only did the cold of home affect my bones less than the otherworld cold, I worked at feeling warmer and I did it with nothing but my mind. Instead of wrapping myself in skins and blankets and woollen cloaks, I found the place in my brain that controlled my body heat and I used it. Teaching myself the skill, though it bordered dangerously on witchcraft, had a double advantage: it added to my reputation. It did not make me better liked but it certainly made me better respected. To be seen stripped to the waist in bitter winds and snow made people think twice before taking me on, even if they hadn’t seen me at swordplay. And most of them had.
But on that day, the snow was yet to come. Catriona and I both slept badly at night, and we had got into the summer habit of riding out in the dawn to our forest, exhausting ourselves with love, and falling asleep for an hour or two there on the soft peaty ground. That early morning, something in the atmosphere must have woken me. Something in the atmosphere did wake me, but I didn’t realise it straight away.
Catriona was not in my arms. She must have gone to empty her bladder, because she wouldn’t wander off otherwise. I was instantly awake as always, and I stayed quite still, propped up on one elbow and listening.
She screamed.
I was up and running straight away. It went through my mind that the roan had fatally disobeyed me, but instantly I knew that wasn’t true. I called him and knew he was coming, but for now I was on my own.
A bank of sand, knotted together with pine roots, fell away ten or more feet to the grainy beach of the loch. She was there, forced onto her knees, her head yanked back by the jaw, and she was fighting. Smart girl, to keep her seal-skin crop. The thing could not get as good a grip on her chin as it would on a hank of hair. She thrashed and struggled in its hold despite the curved blade in its hand, she tore desperately at its scrawny arms. Cadaverous face, lank yellow hair, papery skin. Thin enough to be translucent. No shadow.
It straddled her, grinning, waiting for her to tire and settle down so she’d feel the cut better when it happened.
That’s how they are, the Lammyr.
I took a running leap off the sand-cliff, not breaking stride, and it dropped her just in time to parry the slash of my dirk.
Fast, it was so much faster than any Sithe I’d fought. I was fast too, but it took all my concentration, all my swiftness, every move I ever learned to keep me out of the path of its swinging blade.
Catriona did her best to help me, wrenching a dead branch from a twisted pine and swinging at the thing, but it was far too fast for her. All the same it was a small distraction for the Lammyr, splitting its focus enough to irritate it. At last, exasperated, it swung its skinny torso and loosed a blade in her direction. I heard her cry out but I didn’t have time to think, could only spring for its neck and seize its lank hair to twist its head aside. It caught my disgusted eyes, grinning up at me as I slashed its throat.
I fell awkwardly as it did, rolling against the rough stones at the edge of the beach and grunting as the air was knocked out of me. Frantically I kicked away from it as it jerked and jolted, its colourless blood spilling into the sand. It was looking at Catriona as its eyes went dead, and it was still grinning.
I staggered over to her. She was clutching her side, and blood soaked her fingers, but she didn’t cry out, only looked into my eyes, terrified.
I peeled her fingers away as the roan thundered to my side, skidding and backing and snorting when it caught sight of the Lammyr’s corpse.
She flinched as I touched the wound. ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘I mean it. I’m not lying. It’s all right but you’ll need Grian. Can you get on the horse?’
She nodded, and I boosted her onto its back, not letting go of its mane. It didn’t try anything. I was up and behind her in a second, and besides, it was a mischievous creature but not entirely evil. And it was mine.
I kept the roan to a smooth swift canter, talking to her all the way to keep her mind off the pain that lanced with every stride. Now I had time to curse myself for my complacency and my arrogance. For leaving my sword in my room, just because we were at peace and had been all summer. For leaving Branndair with Liath and the other hounds, because I felt self-conscious when he rested his amber eyes on me as I made love to Catriona. For forgetting I was a Sithe, and a fighter, not a lovestruck full-mortal boy from the clachan.
My lover was pale but quiet, and I admired her all over again.
‘Did it remind you of anyone?’ I said lightly.
‘The minister. The priest.’ She said it straight away.
‘My clever one. It was a female, though.’
‘Was it?’ There was such dry humour in her voice I couldn’t help kissing her neck.
‘Believe it or not, yes. We’re nearly home, Catriona.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘There aren’t any more. We’re all right.’
Actually I wasn’
t sure that was true. I was almost too afraid to roam the moor with my mind. There was a malevolence in the air that I couldn’t pin down, and I reminded myself never to be so stupid and careless again.
‘I’m sorry I wandered off.’ She gasped as the roan thudded down a sharp three-foot drop, then recovered her breath. ‘I felt sick.’
‘Next time you feel sick,’ I told her, ‘don’t for gods’ sake wander off.’
She gave another small gasp that might have been a laugh. I tightened my arm round her.
The shock was beginning to wear off, the adrenalin leaking away, and a chill of suspicion was creeping into my bones. How long had it been since Lammyr were seen around here? Not since Griogair had cleared the place of them, centuries ago. It made no sense that they would return now, unless something was changing that I didn’t recognise and couldn’t understand.
Catriona’s leaking blood was warm and wet against my arm, and I felt young and ignorant and helpless again. And my thoughts were drifting in horrible directions when the roan skidded to a startled halt for the second time that morning. I blinked, and shuddered.
Kate had come.
31
The gates of the dun were thrown wide, and five detachments of her troops were milling outside the walls, eating our food and drinking our ale. I rode straight through them. It wasn’t a problem: our path cleared before us. The blue roan’s ears were back against its skull, its teeth bared in a hideous grin, and the horses of Kate’s fighters backed and trembled and skittered in terror, fighting their riders or jerking at their tethers. The fighters watched me, I knew it. But I did not look at them.
In the central courtyard Kate stood on the highest point of stone, where Conal should stand. Lilith was at her side, and five more detachments of her fighters waited around her, along with her personal guard. Their swords were sheathed but their eyes were cold. An absolute silence lay across the whole dun.
‘Murlainn,’ said Kate, her voice clear and lovely in the frosted air. ‘We’ve been waiting for you.’
‘Then you can wait one more minute,’ I said.
There was a hiss of anger from Kate’s guard captain, but someone was shoving through the ranks: Grian. He caught Catriona as I lowered her from the roan’s back. Good old Grian, I thought as I dismounted. He was intimidated—who wouldn’t be?—but his work came before his fear. Lifting her into his arms, he looked at Kate.
‘Kate,’ shouted my brother. ‘The girl’s hurt. Let Grian take her.’
He stood ten yards from me, weaponless, expressionless. Everyone looked at Kate, except for Lilith, who looked at me.
Kate waited a dramatic second, and another, then gave a gracious nod. Quietly Grian turned and carried Catriona away. Clutching his neck, she looked imploringly back at me, but I closed my eyes and let myself breathe again.
I walked over to stand with Conal. I knew he was furious with my insolence, but glad of it too. The faintest smile twitched the corner of his mouth before we both turned back to Kate.
~ Are you ready for this, Murlainn?
~ If you are, I told him. ~ Cù Chaorach.
‘Come here,’ said Kate.
It was the longest walk of my life to that moment, crossing that wide empty space in the centre of the courtyard. I knew what I had to do when we reached her, and there was sourness in my mouth. Gods knew what Conal was thinking; he wouldn’t let me hear, though he was seething. That iron yett of a block was across his mind again.
Every eye in the place was on us. I amused myself thinking of what was going through all those Sithe heads. From our own clann, rage and resentment at Conal’s humiliation and delight at mine. From Kate’s, there would be smug satisfaction, and contempt for us both. Mostly. But there wasn’t an opinion in the place that mattered to me, besides Conal’s, and I knew what he wanted of me. I also knew I would not let him be first to kneel. At Kate’s feet I dropped to my knees.
I did not look at my brother but I sensed his surprise and his gratitude as he knelt at my side.
She let us kneel there on the cold rock till I thought my knees would buckle, and my head would split open with my contained fury. Neither of us moved a muscle till she stepped forward and extended her hand.
I watched Conal. All that betrayed him was a vein at his temple that throbbed as he took her hand and pressed it to his forehead, then kissed it.
Kate smiled and turned to me. I felt Conal’s gaze burning into me, felt him pleading with me not to be stupid. I took her hand. I pressed it to my forehead: her slender delicate bones and soft flesh against my skull. Pain throbbed at the front of my brain. I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it. Her skin was like cool silk. I released her hand and she took a small step back.
She slapped me. Hard. Then she turned, taking her time, and slapped Conal.
I said nothing; neither did he. I did not let my eyes drop from hers, and I know he didn’t either. To lose our tempers would be to lose face, and quite possibly our lives. I hoped he knew it, because despite his seniority and his dignity and his quiet acceptance, I knew Conal was far, far angrier than I was.
She let us kneel there longer still. I thought the rock would grate right through to my kneecaps, and still we were surrounded by mocking silence. Oh, she was revelling in this. And then, quite unexpectedly, she laughed, all benevolence again. She had a lovely laugh.
‘Look, Lilith. Your boy has become a man.’
My mother smirked. I looked at her, and then back at Kate, and I felt a shocking surge of fierce desire. Kate laughed again with delight.
‘A man!’ she murmured. ‘And a fine fighter, I hear. Submission doesn’t suit you, Murlainn.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t.’
Conal shot me a dark look, but if I had to stay on my knees much longer I was going to kill someone. I could still taste Kate’s skin on my lips. It was as if all my own skin had been peeled off; I had never felt so naked and vulnerable and it made me ache to blind every man watching.
‘I think you boys could be trouble,’ smiled Kate. ‘Trouble-makers, too.’
‘No, Kate,’ said Conal.
‘Come, come. I’m not angry. After all I like trouble. It can be … fun. Well, now.’ Lightly she clapped her hands. ‘You broke your exile, Cù Chaorach, and since your brother chose to share it, he has broken exile too. What shall I do with you?’
We didn’t answer. I think it was a rhetorical question.
‘You both broke your exile, but I think you learned a lot. I like you both, and I need good fighters, and I do not want to have to exile you again. Do you think you learned humility, Cù Chaorach? Did the full-mortals teach it to you?’
‘Yes, Kate.’ He said it clear and without shame, and he kept his eyes on hers.
‘That’s what I heard.’ Placing a finger thoughtfully against her cheek, she watched his face, and I watched hers. She did not look as cool and in control as she’d have liked, and she knew it. So did I, so did we all. Kate did not know quite what to make of his attitude. I was afraid for him, then.
‘I heard all that they did to you,’ she said, failing to use his name as she addressed him. It was a calculated insult. ‘I’ve no doubt you learned to do without your dignity.’
‘Yes, Kate.’
‘You screamed, I dare say? You begged? You confessed to lies to make them stop?’
‘Yes, Kate.’ His face didn’t flicker.
She’d have liked to be there. You could tell. ‘Your pride was worth nothing. Am I right?’
‘Yes, Kate.’
‘And only luck and a full-mortal let you escape with your life,’ she said derisively.
‘Yes, Kate.’
She smiled. Gods, she was livid. I loved him more than ever.
‘Here’s my offer, Cù Chaorach. Serve me for a year.’
I took a breath. He didn’t react: not so much as a twitch of his eyelid.
‘Be my captain for a year. That’s not long, is it? I want you, and your brother, and ten of your best
fighters. That will prove your loyalty. I will invalidate your exile and this unpleasantness will be forgotten.’
It was too good a deal. We both knew it.
‘And who captains my dun?’
Kate looked winsome. ‘Is it your dun? Certainly it will be again, if you do as I ask.’
He ignored that; she had no right to say it. ‘Who takes care of my dun in my absence?’
‘Calman Ruadh.’
Utter silence. Even I was dumbstruck. Let me put it this way: his name was a great joke of nature. They called him the Red Dove to qualify it, because he’d been bathed in blood so often it must have soaked into his skin.
‘Your sense of humour does you credit, Kate,’ said Conal through his teeth. ‘Calman Ruadh is Alasdair Kilrevin’s lieutenant.’
‘Was,’ she corrected him sweetly. ‘Alasdair Kilrevin is dead.’
I felt astonishment along with a gut-wrenching disappointment. That work had been Conal’s, and mine, and someone had taken it from us without formal claim. Pure bad manners.
Kate’s gaze and her smile slanted towards me. ‘Don’t worry, Murlainn. His death appears to have been somewhat … supernatural. He and his men were burned to a crisp. They were found in a field, after a night’s drinking and gambling. It seems something, ah … overtook them. There’s talk of the Devil. There’s talk of an ill-advised bet with … let’s say, extraordinarily high stakes.’ She examined a polished fingernail, frowning as she pushed back a cuticle. ‘Calman Ruadh, by great good fortune, was not with them.’
Conal muttered something inaudible.
‘He has been on his knees, Cù Chaorach, just like you, and just as you will be, he is forgiven.’
‘Kilrevin was on his knees to you more than once,’ said Conal savagely. ‘It never stopped him picking up his sword again.’
‘Now is really not a good time to make that point.’ Her smile was quick and catlike. ‘Calman Ruadh is my trusted ally and your dun will be secure in his hands. No living person would protect it as well as Calman will. You notice I say will, not would. I am not offering you options, Cù Chaorach. This, or I return you to the care of the full-mortals where they will no doubt finish what they started. And,’ she raised a finger to stop his interruption, ‘I burn your dun and hang its inhabitants.’ Tutting, she wagged the finger in his face. ‘I’ve really been very cross with you. Now, what do you say?’
Firebrand (Rebel Angel Series) Page 22
