by P. C. Cast
“At any cost.”
“No. Not at the cost of your life. I stopped before I…” he trailed off, unwilling to continue.
“Before you killed me. And then you did this to me!”
“I’m sorry,” he said somberly. “But what I did can’t be undone.”
“What! You mean I’ll always feel your pain?”
He didn’t speak for a moment, and when he finally did that rich, musical tone was back in his deep voice. “It isn’t only my pain you can feel, Aine.”
His voice…his eyes…they drew her. Aine took another step forward. And then another.
“This bond we’ve forged,” he said. “It’s not so terrible. It’s how my people mate—how they love.”
The attraction Aine felt for him was raw and strong. Even lying there, wounded and battered, she could see the powerful male creature he was and be drawn to the mystery of him.
It’s because I drank his blood! Aine took a step back, shutting her mind to the fact that even before he’d forced her to drink from him she’d been intrigued enough by Tegan that she’d chosen to help him.
“I’ve done all I can for you. Leave. Return to wherever you came from. Just hurry because as soon as I get back to the castle I’m going to send them after you.”
Aine closed her mind and her heart. Resolutely, she turned her back on him and began to retrace the short path to Maev’s pyre.
She’d taken up the reins of the cart and had pointed the horse’s head down the road to the castle when the first of the pains speared down her leg. Aine gritted her teeth and clucked the horse into a sluggish trot.
The next pain made her gasp. He’d fallen. She could feel it. He was trying to walk and he couldn’t. Not by himself.
“You shouldn’t care.” Aine told herself. But care or not, she was a Healer, and the suffering of others affected her—it always had. “Epona!” She called into the night.
“Help me. What should I do? Did you lead me to him so that Partholon could be warned or so that he could be saved?”
The silence of the night was her only answer.
Aine closed her eyes. She did her best to shut out the phantom pain from Tegan. I need to follow my instinct. So what did her instinct tell her to do?
The answer came at once with all subtly of a rampaging wild boar. Her heart, her soul, her body, all were screaming at her to return to Tegan.
It was only her mind that called her a silly, stupid girl as she turned the cart around and urged the horse to take her back to him.
10
Tegan wasn’t difficult to find. He stumbled into the clearing where Maev’s pyre still smoldered when Aine pulled the carthorse, who was suddenly acting uncharacteristically skittish, to a halt. He collapsed to the grass, not bothering to look up at her.
“Were you trying to follow me?” Aine climbed from the cart and approached him warily, wishing the piercing pain in her leg would stop.
He drew several gasping breaths before he answered her. “Not following you. Just trying to get back.” He did glance up then, motioning vaguely in the direction of the castle.
“By the Goddess! To Guardian Castle?”
His brow wrinkled and he gave her a look that clearly said he thought she might be soft in the head. “Of course not. My cave is in the Trier Mountains. I’ve stayed clear of the castle.” Then his gaze focused on the pyre and understanding widened his expressive eyes. “This is Maev. The woman you thought I killed.”
“She was a centaur Huntress.” Speaking slowly, Aine corrected him. Then the truth hit her. Tegan hadn’t killed Maev. She felt it just as surely as she felt the pain in his leg.
“I didn’t kill her,” he said.
“I know.” She made her decision quickly. “Get in the cart. I’ll take you back to your cave.”
“And then you’ll bring warriors there to kill me?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do about you,” she said truthfully. “If I touch you—help you into the cart—will you bite me?”
The slight, sad smile touched his lips again. “Do you want me to?”
“No.” Aine said firmly, rubbing at the bruised spot on her neck.
“You are safe from me, little Healer. I lost control before only because I was on the brink of death. Your blood strengthened me. I am in no danger of dying, so you are in no danger of me drinking from you.” He paused before adding, “Unless you wish it.”
“Then I’ll be safe from you forever,” she said under her breath as she went to him and offered her hand.
Moving slowly, Tegan let her help him to his feet. She sucked in her breath when he stood beside her. Goddess, he was tall! He loomed over her, blotting out the darkening sky. His wings were at rest, tucked neatly against his back, but he still looked like a wild, masculine bird of prey.
“You’re so small,” he said suddenly. “I’m afraid I’ll crush you if I lean on you. Maybe you should find me a branch I could use as a crutch. Or bring the cart closer and I’ll hobble to it.”
They stood there staring nervously at each other while he balanced precariously on one foot. Finally, she had to stifle the urge to laugh—albeit a bit hysterically. Could he be as scared of her as she was of him?
“I’m stronger than I look,” she said.
Aine moved to his injured side and put her arm around his waist. His arm went instantly over her shoulders. She led him to the cart, careful not to go too fast. His body was warm and strong, and she could feel his wings behind her like a living mantle. She hadn’t noticed his scent before, but it came to her now. He smelled of the forest and sweat and man. He also smelled vaguely of blood —his and hers. Aine was disconcerted to realize that the she found the scent alluring.
“I can only take you part of the way in this.” They’d managed to get him into the flat bed of the cart and she had started the horse down the castle road. “I’ll have to stop before the walls are in sight or the warriors might see us.”
“So you’ve decided not to betray me?”
Aine looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m betraying Partholon by keeping you a secret.”
“No you’re not. I mean no harm to Partholon. I’m not dangerous to your people.”
“Just rest while you can. You’ll need your strength to get yourself back to that cave.”
Tegan closed his eyes and cradled his head in his arms.
He hated lying to her.
11
“I can’t take you any farther. The castle is too close.” Aine pulled the carthorse to a halt.
“I understand. If you can find a branch I can lean on I will be able to make it from here on my own,” Tegan said.
Aine gave him a doubtful look, but hurried to the side of the dirt road, searching under the ancient pines until she found a sturdy branch. When she returned to him, Tegan was already standing beside the cart. She handed him the branch and readied herself for the pain they would share.
“You can lessen it.” Meeting her questioning gaze he continued. “The pain—you don’t have to feel it with such intensity. Close yourself to it, much like you would close yourself to an annoying sound.” He paused, thinking, then his lips tilted up. “Like a screeching blue jay. Ignore it. Tell yourself it’s not there, and soon it will fade from your consciousness. Also, it won’t be so strong when we aren’t together. Our nearness intensifies the bond.”
Aine grinned at him. “Yes, I’ll think of you as an annoying bird.”
“Not me. The pain in my leg.” He touched her cheek. “You should smile more.”
She should have pulled away from him, but his hand was warm and it felt so right against her skin. Her body liked his nearness and she found it difficult not to lean into him.
“Thank you for saving my life,” Tegan said.
“You’re welcome,” she managed.
“I shouldn’t ask anything more of you, but I must. Give me a chance to prove that I mean you no harm. Let me earn your trust.”
“I don’t know how you could do that.”
He framed her face with both of his hands. “You know I didn’t kill your centaur friend, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I can earn your trust in the same way. Our bond will strengthen and you will be able to tell beyond any doubt if I lie or if I tell the truth in all things.”
“I don’t—” Aine began but his thumb pressing gently against her lips stopped her words.
“I am alone in Partholon. No other Fomorians are with me. Listen with your heart. Do you believe me?” Aine stared up into his eyes. It was full dark by then, but Tegan seemed to be illuminated with a light of his own. She could see into him and she knew that he wasn’t lying to her. He was truly alone in Partholon.
“I believe you.”
He let loose his breath in a rush of relief. Impulsively, he pulled her into his arms. “Thank you, my little healer.”
Just for a moment Aine let him hold her. It felt good to be in his arms—too good. Clearing her throat, she began disentangling herself. He let her go, but only to an arm’s length.
“Say you will come to me tomorrow.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You must. My leg will need your care. I have no herbs or potions for healing in my cave.”
Aine frowned, looking down at his offending leg. It was torn, swollen, and blackened from the cauterization. It was a miracle that he was standing at all. A man would have been completely disabled by such an injury. Clearly, Tegan was stronger than a man, but would he be able to recover if it festered? Or would he suffer and die slowly, with Aine feeling every bit of it?
“How do I find you?”
His smile was so joyous that Aine hardly noticed the sharpness of his fangs. “I could find you anywhere, but it would be easiest for me if you would walk to the west, as near the mountains as you can and think of me.”
“On the Wastelands side or the Partholon side of the mountains?”
Tegan’s expression sobered. “Never on the Wastelands side. It’s too dangerous. The weather changes instantly. Instead of sweet deer and fat sheep there are wild boar and mountain lynx.”
Aine felt a shiver of foreboding at his warning. She sensed that there were things he wasn’t telling her. It was on the Wastelands side of the pass that Maev had been killed…
“You have nothing to fear from me. I will never drink from you against your will again, and I will protect you against anything,” he said.
She wanted to question him further, but his head snapped up. He scented the air.
“Men from the castle approach!”
12
“Go! Now!” Aine pulled away from him and climbed up on the cart seat. “I’ll meet the warriors and keep them away from here.”
“Tomorrow, Aine. Come to me tomorrow!” Tegan called after her.
Aine didn’t take even a moment to look back or respond. She urged the horse into a brisk trot, trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and Tegan before the warriors found her.
Edan was the first of the warriors to reach her. He galloped up to the cart, looking irritated and sounding worried. She noticed the other four men just seemed bored and annoyed.
“Aine, why have you not returned to the castle?”
She blinked several times, putting on innocent surprise. “But I am returning to the castle.”
“It has been hours, and it is fully dark,” he said, now sounding more irritated than worried.
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to leave Maev.”
“Maev is dead. Nothing more can happen to her, unlike you,” Edan said severely.
“I’m sorry,” Aine repeated sheepishly.
One of the warriors she didn’t know made a scoffing sound and told Edan, “You see? The Monro said she didn’t need a watchdog.”
For the rest of the way to the castle none of them spoke and Aine focused on thinking of the pain in her leg as an annoying birdand not thinking of Tegan and her strange feelings for him.
Even though she didn’t consider Guardian Castle her home, Aine felt a very real sense of relief when the cart passed under the iron front gates and entered the square courtyard. It was almost not dreary with all the torches lit and the scent of food coming from the Great Hall.
“Developing a liking for the forest, Healer?”
The Monro stepped out of the shadows. Reeking of strong spirits, he blocked her way back to her chamber, which adjoined the infirmary.
Caught off guard, she wasn’t sure what to say to him. Then her promise to meet Tegan the next day jolted through her. “Yes. I, uh, I’m homesick and the forest reminds me of the Temple of the Muse. The pine trees are the same,” she finished inanely.
“A word of warning—this isn’t the neutered forest that surrounds the Temple of the Muse. Ask Maev.” The Chieftain’s words were slightly slurred and his smile was cruel. “I’m mistaken. You can’t ask her. She’s dead.” Chuckling to himself, he walked away.
Tegan collapsed on the floor of his cave. He needed rest. He needed blood.
He needed Aine.
He closed his eyes, concentrating on slowing his breathing and controlling the ache in his leg. She could feel it, and he didn’t want to cause her any more pain than he’d have to.
He hadn’t planned on meeting Aine—he hadn’t planned on meeting any Partholonians. He’d only wanted to escape what was coming and live out his life in peace. The loneliness had been inconsequential. The alternative was so much worse.
Until Aine—she had changed everything. He must warn her—ready her. But how? She didn’t trust him. If he told her the truth now, she would turn from him. And he couldn’t bear that—not after being bonded to her.
He shook his head, amazed anew at what had happened between them. Tegan had given up the idea of ever mating years ago. Aine was a miracle—his miracle, and he wouldn’t lose her. Their blood bond drew her to him, but Tegan knew that were it not for that exchange of blood she would have run from him, probably betrayed him to her people. So he must win her trust. Perhaps her love would come later.
He would have to act quickly. That time was running out was one thing of which Tegan was certain.
13
With Epona’s urn clutched in her arms, Aine walked through the front gate.
“Healer, where are you off to?”
Aine sighed at the sound of Edan’s all too familiar voice. Carefully, she covered the open top of the urn with an edge of her cloak. Her face a mask of polite neutrality, she turned to look up at where the warrior called down at her from the gate watch station.
“I’m going to Maev’s pyre to collect some of her ashes. Her Herdsmaster will most likely send for them, and it would be respectful to keep them ready for him.”
“You’re probably right.” He glanced up at the morning sky. “At least you have plenty of time until dusk. Be sure you’re back by then. I’m hunting in Maev’s place today. I won’t have time to come fetch you.” Edan smiled, showing that he was no longer annoyed with her.
Aine nodded, smiled, and called “Happy hunting” to him before turning away.
Edan’s newfound attention was ill-timed. Until he’d taken notice of her, no one—outside the few minor injuries and illnesses she’d dealt with—had had much to do with Aine. The men ignored her; the women made no friendly overtures towards her. Actually, the women were particularly odd. Instead of loosening up and accepting her, they seemed to do the opposite. The longer she’d been there, the less she’d seen of the women. That was yet another reason why she and Maev had become such good friends so quickly.
Maev…she felt terribly guilty about using her as an excuse. I will collect her ashes she promised herself as she stepped off the road and entered the forest. Circling around until she was out of sight of the castle, Aine left the forest and headed to the edge of the austere Trier Mountains.
Aine thought of Tegan.
It was easy to think of him. She’d done little els
e since leaving him. She should have been terrified of Tegan, or at least disgusted by him. Aine was neither. Of course it was because of the blood they’d exchanged that she felt like this. Aine’s stomach fluttered as she remembered his lips and teeth against her skin and the erotic pull of him drinking from her. Her mind insisted she was only going to him to treat his wounds. Her body had a different agenda.
The pain in her leg had just become impossible to ignore when he spoke.
“Aine! Over here, my little Healer.”
Tegan’s voice led her into the rocky recesses formed at the base of the mountain range. He appeared before her like something out of a dark dream—mysterious and tantalizing. He held out a hand, beckoning her deeper into the shadows. Aine hesitated, struggling to sort through the wash of emotions that seeing him filled her with.
“I can not come out there to you. Direct sunlight is harmful to my people, and in my weakened state it would cause me much pain.” His lips tilted up in that alluring half smile she remembered so well. “It would cause us much pain, and I would rather spare you that.”
She joined him in the shadows. They stared at each other. Aine was more than a little shaken by how badly she wanted to touch him.
“Have you lost the ability to speak?” he asked softly.
“No! I—I see that your leg is better,” she blurted, even though her eyes had not left his face. “I brought medicines.” Aine nervously held up the urn.
Tegan didn’t even glance at it. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”
“I had to.”
“To heal me?”
“Yes.” And to touch you and be with you and see you smile again.
“Come, my cave is close.”
Tegan led her through a crevasse that cut deeply into the slate colored mountains. He moved slowly, heavily favoring his injury. Because of the narrowness of the path she couldn’t walk beside him, but followed close behind. His wings mesmerized her. They were huge… dark. She’d never imagined anything like them. She had only brushed against them briefly last night and she wondered what it would be like to touch them on purpose—to stroke them.
