People started to work their way back to their horses, leaving Donal, Neala, Bren, and Tyr alone. Even Ciara abandoned her after a pat on the shoulder that was not comforting. Without her at her side Neala felt exposed. Hostility radiated out from Bren’s power. It was almost hot enough to burn her.
“Can ye two give me and Tyr a moment alone?”
Inclining his head ever so slightly to Tyr, Donal backed away. Bren didn’t budge. The anger didn’t reach his eyes but it didn’t have to, Neala could feel it wash over her as if a damn had been broken. The pain of it took her breath away. Her power rose up and shoved his away. He didn’t budge but she felt his power retreat to his core. The vulnerable look he gave her when he turned away broke her heart.
There was a long, awkward moment in which Bren and Tyr glared each other down.
“Please Bren,” Neala said.
He shot his vicious glare her direction. It stung for more reasons than one. Without a word, he turned and walked away. Tyr’s gaze shifted to Neala, the weight of his blue eyes immobilizing her. Several times he opened his mouth to speak but each time he closed it as if he couldn’t find the words.
“Thank ye. Ye took a huge risk in comin’ to help us,” Neala said.
“I’d do it again if I had to. What my father and his men are doing is wrong.”
His words tugged at her, making it hard for her to maintain eye contact with him. This boy was a contradiction to everything she thought she knew about Danes. He fascinated and confused her but more than anything, he made her wish they had met under different circumstances.
“I’m glad I met ye Tyr. I hope we see each other again when our people aren’t tryin’ to kill each other,” she said.
The sun shone off moisture in Tyr’s eyes but he blinked and it was gone. His face went so hard and serious Neala wasn’t sure she’d even seen the tears. Maybe it had been her imagination. Why would a Dane cry over her anyway?
“And I you, Neala O’Carroll. Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice dropping on the last part.
Blond waves of hair fell into his eyes as he dropped his head and hid his expression from her. That little way he had of being shy was one of the things she would really miss. His chest rose with a deep, shuddering breath then he spun on his heel and marched off to his horse. She couldn’t watch him leave, it hurt too much.
Putting on the best look of indifference she could manage, she turned back to Bren and Donal. Bren leaned against a rock with his arms crossed, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Hands resting on his sword belt, Donal was the picture of calm but he didn’t fool her. Neala could feel the nervous energy pulsing through his power.
Considering the harsh words Bren had thrown at her, he could wait. She moved toward Donal. Bren grunted and shook his head. A bit of tension eased from between her shoulders when he took several steps away. With his attitude, she wouldn’t be too sorry if he left. Ignoring him, she gave Donal her full attention.
“So, ye’re a horse,” she said.
Donal’s eyes flew open and he shook his head. “Níl, I’m a human who can shapeshift into a horse.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Neala considered this. “Ye realize that only sounds slightly better.”
Her eyes were drawn to his bottom lip as he pulled it between his teeth. She couldn’t help but remember how soft his lips had been upon hers, and how amazing their kiss had been. The train of thought was not helping. She shoved it back and tried to recall all she wanted to say.
“Why did ye think I didn’t like púcas?”
“Because of ye’re reaction anytime anyone would call me—I mean Dubh—one.”
He fidgeted with his sword belt, fingernails picking at the leather. Before she could think about it, she reached out and grabbed one of his dark-skinned hands. The urge to touch him, to comfort him, was too much to resist.
“I was only defendin’ ye. I thought púcas were evil creatures that took their riders to hell. I didn’t want people callin’ ye somethin’ that I thought was evil,” she nearly whispered.
Their gazes met and she was shaken by the insecurity she saw on his face. “But we’re not, evil that is.”
Somewhere behind them, someone let out a snorting laugh. Though the sound made her teeth clench, Neala ignored him.
“I know ye aren’t. I was wrong about púcas, I know that now,” she said.
Heavy footsteps approached. “Tá because I told her the real legend. I’ve had enough of this. Ye and I need to talk, Neala,” Bren said.
He grabbed her arm, fingers digging into her flesh, and pulled.
“Ouch!” Neala cried as she twisted free.
Though he stiffened and his power flared, Donal didn’t interfere. The pinched expression on Bren’s face failed to bring forth any sympathy from her. While she knew she could have handled this situation a little better, he couldn’t have been handling it much worse.
“Did ye ever want anythin’ more than to lie with me, Bren?” Neala demanded. The words had slipped out; she hadn’t meant to say them. But with him being so cruel, she had to know.
Red stained Bren’s cheeks and his eyes darted in Donal’s direction. That familiar pulling sensation tugged at her back and Neala knew Donal was stepping away, giving them a bit of privacy. Why couldn’t Bren be half as polite?
“Course I did, why would ye even ask?” Bren said, sounding hurt. Then his eyes brightened and he frowned. “Ciara told ye why she and I are no longer together, didn’t she?”
Neala lifted her chin, refusing to back down. “Tá.”
“It’s true.” Bren admitted. “But ye can’t judge me when ye don’t even know why. After me da died all I ever wanted was to belong to an Order and to pair bond with a woman.”
Cruel as he was being, Neala felt like a complete dolt. How could she not know that about him?
“But Bren, ye don’t pair bond by lyin’ with each other. And it can’t be forced, our power chooses, ye know this,” she said.
He flicked a hand as if in dismissal. “Course ye have to lie together, that’s how the bond solidifies. But no, ye had to go and bond with a sla—I mean a púca.” He made the word púca sound as foul as the word slave.
Power pulsing hotter with each breath, Neala forced herself to calm down. “Níl ye, don’t. All Donal and I did was kiss.”
“Ye can lie to yerself, but I know the truth, one of yer own kind isn’t good enough for ye even though ye’re a slut,” Bren spat.
Power crackling with warning, Donal stepped up beside Neala. “Enough. If all ye’re going to do is insult her, she doesn’t have to listen to ye,” he said.
Bren started to surge forward. “I’ve had it with ye—” his words halted as his eyes fell upon Donal’s chest.
He froze in mid-stride. “Where did ye get that?” he demanded, thrusting a finger toward Donal’s medallion.
Realization snapped into place in Neala’s mind. The medallion and Bren’s necklace were from the same craftsman. They had to be. But that made no sense…
“Me da gave it to me,” Donal said. Slowly his eyes slid from Bren’s face to the necklace setting atop his chest. His face fell into a look of shock. “Where did ye get yers?”
“Me da made it for me.”
The two men stood staring at each other, or rather, at their necklaces. Such intricate craftsmanship like that could only be from one craftsman.
“Yer last name is O’Donovan, right?” Donal asked in a hushed voice.
Stiffening, Bren’s eyes lifted to Donal’s face and studied it closely. His energy hummed and he went very pale. “That’s right.”
Donal swallowed hard before responding. “So is mine.”
They stared at each other and Neala stared at them. Her queasy stomach wanted to throw up what little she’d had to eat that day.
Denial filled Bren’s eyes and he shook his head. “Me da wasn’t a shapeshifter. I would have known.”
“Neither was mine. Me ma was. Did your da ev
er travel up north?” Donal asked.
Bren’s knees were shaking so badly that Neala almost went to him to help steady him. But she knew he wouldn’t want her to touch him, and frankly, she didn’t want to touch him after what he’d said. Thankfully, Liam dashed to Bren’s side and grabbed hold of him to support him.
“His da is from the north,” Liam answered for him.
The other members of the Order started to gather around.
Cian peered closely at both Bren and Donal. “Aside from dark skin, and Donal being a mountain of muscle, I can totally see the resemblance. Ye both have the same brow, cheekbones, even yer eyes are alike,” he said in a tone filled with wonder.
Freckles on her forehead pushed together as Kyla’s eyes opened wide. “Bloody hell, I see it too.”
Donal’s energy pulsed and fluxuated and he started to sway. Wrapping her arm tight around his, Neala did her best to help steady him. By the Tuatha she hoped he didn’t fall, he was far too solid and heavy to catch. Her power started to rise just in case. Her mind however tried to retreat, unable to deal with what it had just learned.
Then she remembered. Deirdre’s reaction to Dubh, the look of fear and betrayal that had flashed in her eyes the first time she’d seen him, the way she always avoided him. She had known, Bren’s own mother had known.
Hands on her hips, Irial shook her dark red hair. “Brothers eh? This certainly changes things.”
32
Neala winced as Donal tightened the strap that secured the plate of armor to her shield arm.
“Sorry, too tight?”
“A little,” she admitted.
He made a few adjustments and she breathed easier as the pinching eased. All around them, the members of her Order were donning their armor and preparing their weapons. The dark of night surrounding them seemed to hold all manner of threats. Neala jumped at every twig that broke and every energy signature she saw. After all the years of wanting to be a warrior, the time was finally upon her. It wasn’t the same without Lorcan at her side as she’d always imagined it. Even though she wasn’t quite sure about Donal yet, having him there was nearly as good.
As if sensing her unease, Donal sat down on a rock in front of her and gazed deep into her eyes. He started to reach for her hands, but hesitated.
“Ye’ll do fantastic, I have no doubt. And don’t worry, I won’t leave yer side,” he said.
Though she couldn’t quite muster a smile, his words did ease the knot that had been twisting in her stomach all night. “What, no professin’ that ye won’t let anythin’ happen to me?” she joked, though it came out sounding forced.
Leaning closer, Donal raised an eyebrow at her. “I won’t have to. Ye’re a good warrior, I know ye can fend for yerself. But, if ye’d like me to be the knight in shining armor type…” he let his voice trail off and shrugged, a smirk playing at his lips.
She slapped him gently on the shoulder and had to resist the urge to let her hand linger there. “Course not. Ye probably know I don’t go for that kind of thing.”
“Tá, I know.” The smirk vanished, replaced by a vulnerable look. “Neala, I know that to ye it feels like we’ve just met, but I have known ye for three years now and I…” his voice faded and he broke eye contact.
She reached over and grabbed one of his hands. Touching him sent a fire blazing through both her and her power. This was a wonderful fire though that she craved more than air.
“Níl, it doesn’t. From the moment I first saw ye, well, yer human form, I felt as though I’d known ye me whole life. It’s a tad strange, I’ll admit, but I can’t deny what I feel for ye,” she said.
Hope lit up Donal’s eyes. “And what is that?”
“Somethin’ powerful. Somethin’ I want to explore if we live through the day,” she said.
The intense look in his dark green eyes gave her chills. His fingers wove through hers, holding her hand tight. “And we shall. I’ve never felt this way about anyone Neala, I need ye to know that. Ye’re special to me,” he said.
He leaned closer and her eyes closed a moment before their lips touched. She gasped as his power cascaded over her, mingling with her own. The moment her mouth opened his power poured into her along with his tongue. Suddenly she was in his arms. She clung to him, pulling him as close as she could, wishing the armor wasn’t between them. How could she have questioned for even a moment if this was who she wanted? There was no question.
Oppressive power pressed down upon them. Neala looked up to find Bren standing beside them, his arms crossed over his chest, shooting a fierce glare at Donal. They pulled apart slowly, their power resisting.
“Sorry to interrupt yer courtin’ of me lass, brother,” he said, twisting the last word into a hiss.
Letting go of Neala’s hand, Donal stood. He towered over Bren and had to crane his neck down to meet his gaze. Power snapped between the two of them like the fronts of two storms that were about to collide.
With a few deep breaths, Donal brought his power under control. “She isn’t yer property. And I’m sorry that things turned out this way, but truly, ye intruded upon me courtin’ of her, I was just takin’ things a lot slower than ye were.”
The rising tension washed away beneath a wave of Irial’s power. A moment later she stepped out of the darkness and put a hand on both Donal and Bren’s shoulders.
“Save it for the battle lads. Tis time to get into our positions,” she said.
A mixture of fear, excitement, and pride rushed through Neala. Adjusting her sword belt, she rose. Finally, she would get to fight for her country and her people as her brother had.
~
Between the blood pounding in her ears and the river rushing in the valley below, Neala couldn’t hear much else. Squeezed into a tiny crevice at the base of the hillside, there wasn’t much she could see either. The chainmail shirt Irial had given her was starting to make her sweat and itch, but she was thankful for it regardless. Donal was to her right, almost within reach, and Bren was to her left. She couldn’t stop thinking about her parents and Tyr. It was stupid she knew, to let herself get so distracted right before a battle, but she couldn’t help it. Because her parents had refused to leave they couldn’t lose this battle. No pressure.
The others of her Order were spread out along the cliff side with her, each hidden in their own crevice or behind a rock. In the trees on the other side of the river the other Order awaited. The other two fiann were scattered among them along with enough of the elder druids and even many other clan members to bring their numbers close to three hundred. Everyone had wanted to give their families a chance to hide or flee and the Rectors had been able to convince them fighting was the only way to do that.
Irial had told Neala that after mentioning the slaughter of Uí Faelain it had been easy to convince them to fight. It still meant they would be outnumbered but it was better than thirty against a thousand. The plan was to wait until the Danes were in their midst and then attack from both sides.
“They’re comin’,” Kyla called down from above them.
Neala gripped the hilt of her sword so tightly the leather wrapped around it bit into her palm. The pain helped ground her a little and took the edge off her panic. Donal’s fingers brushed the back of her hand. Soothing energy sank into her skin.
“Relax. Ye’re ready for this. Ye’ll do brilliantly,” he said.
It was hard to look at him but she made herself. His dark, handsome face—so filled with hope—made her want to take him and run from this place. But his deep green eyes made her think of her homeland and how much she loved it and wanted to fight for it. The fierce excitement written all over his face was infectious. No, they couldn’t run. They had to do what they were born to do and fight for their land.
Stretching from his tight hiding spot, Donal reached up to brush his fingers along her cheekbone. The touch sent a flare of heat from her cheek all the way to the core of her power. Regret mingled with desire. There was so much she wanted to say to
him but she couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat. It wasn’t that she was afraid of dying, she was afraid of leaving him without getting the chance to explore what might be between them. And she certainly hadn’t left things with Bren on a good note either.
“We’ll make it out of this. Ye just keep yer focus and show no mercy,” Donal said.
Hearing him say Lorcan’s favorite phrase made her smile. They had to do this for their families. She nodded and took a deep breath.
“Ye too,” she said.
Donal nodded and returned his gaze to the gap in the rock before him.
Neala said a silent prayer to the Tuatha Dé Dannan, the ancient gods of her ancestors. Just for good measure she said one to the Christian God too. It couldn’t hurt to have all of her options covered. Hopefully at least one of them would listen.
Using the method Irial had taught her, she imagined her power reaching down into the Earth like tree roots, connecting her to it and grounding her. It felt like an unending well of power beneath her feet, one that she was an integral part of. This was her home, the place where her ancestors were born, but it was more than that. She was tied to the energy of the land and it was tied to her, they fed one another. Now that she understood that she couldn’t fathom leaving.
Something fluttered near her head. Her eyes shot open as her heart tried to jump up through her throat. It was only a fairy alighting upon the rock next to her. She was crouched in a ready position, a spear clutched in one hand. Long blond hair hung down around her, partially obscuring intricate blue markings that wound their way up her arms. Not markings Neala realized, but tattoos. They were the blue tattoos that Neala’s ancestors used to mark their bodies with before battle.
Neala had heard stories about the tattoos but she had never seen them. Such markings were a death sentence. No one had worn them for hundreds of years. Seeing them now, on the friend she had grown up with, Neala realized the magnitude of all that her kind had lost and stood to lose.
The fairy’s jaw was set in a hard line and her eyes were filled with grim determination. She nodded to Neala before creeping higher upon the rock to join another of her kind. They were everywhere, their iridescent wings sparkling all over the cliff like bits of a scattered rainbow.
To Ride A Púca Page 27
