by Lucy Monroe
Niall turned his head and gave Sabrine a smile of sublime delight. “He did at that.”
“She’s an abomination!”
Even knowing they were spoken by a prejudiced old man who should mean nothing to her, the words pricked at Sabrine’s heart like the tip of a newly sharpened dagger.
“What is the matter with you?” Niall sounded truly perplexed. “My brother has managed to discover a member of the old race and draw her to himself. ’Tis a miracle our laird Talorc of the Sinclairs will thank him profusely for.”
As if Barr had a thing to do with her falling out of the sky and infiltrating his clan. Men! Still, she liked Niall’s interpretation better than Wirp’s.
“She’s carrion eater, not worthy to be called Chrechte.”
“She’s Éan, magical and powerful with Chrechte gifts a wolf will never know.”
“You know more about my people than your brother,” she could not help observing.
“I listened more closely to the stories than he growing up. And I believed them. Somewhere out there are Chrechte that share natures with the big cats.”
She knew the stories he spoke of. Ancient tradition said that back before the Chrechte settled in caves, when they roamed the earth like the animal herds, there were more races of shifters and they all lived together, submitting to leaders much like the Éan’s Council of Three. But those stories were so old, she had never given them credence.
The fact she was just such an unlooked-for legend to Barr made her rethink the truth of the oldest stories.
But those were thoughts for a different day.
“You hold no dislike for the Éan?” she asked, having to be certain.
“I am Chrechte.”
“So is that hate-filled old goat.” She jerked her head toward Wirp.
He dismissed Wirp with another wolf-worthy snarl. “Chrechte respect all life. We have learned the great cost of not doing so.”
“I think some of the Faol have,” she admitted. “But some still hate the Éan for their differences.”
“Jealous more like.”
“Me? Jealous of that abomination?” Wirp yelped, spittle flying.
Niall grew very still and looked down at Wirp. “Do. Not. Call. Her. That. Again.” He punctuated each word with a small shake of the man dangling in his grip. “Ever.”
“She has no place in our clan.”
She might agree with him, but she didn’t have to admit it to this horrible dog. “That is not for you to say.”
“You are wrong. I will protect my clan from your kind, whatever it takes.” The light of murder burned bright in his faded eyes.
She let death show in her own gaze. “You are welcome to try, old man. You’ll not find me as easy a kill as others.”
Fury at her challenge suffused him and he lost control, his wolf’s scent filling the air around them for the first time. Memory washed over her for the second time in an hour, this one the most painful she had yet endured.
“You!” Quick as a snake, she grabbed the dagger from Niall’s belt. “Drop him, let my parents’ murderer face me.”
Niall looked down at her with shock. “The females among the Éan certainly are different.”
She didn’t bother to reply, dropping into a fighting stance, rage turning the edges of her vision red.
“What the hell is going on here?” Barr’s demand cracked like thunder.
“I believe your mate wishes to kill this old man. It’s a fair want to my way of thinking. He was intent on killing her when I came upon them.”
She looked at Barr, the anguish of earlier replaced with this new-old pain. “He killed my parents.”
“You are certain?”
She looked back at the now-hatred-filled visage of the older Faol. “Yes.”
“No doubts?”
“I smelled his scent on their bodies. I’ll never forget it. He’s kept it masked, or I would have known earlier.”
Barr turned to Wirp. “You stand accused of murder. What say you?”
“It is not murder to rid the world of an abomination.”
“You do not deny the charge of killing?”
“She looks just like her mother. It is how I knew she was raven from the moment I saw her.” Wirp’s implied admission and lack of any remorse cut at Sabrine’s soul.
How could he think killing her gentle mother and the fair and giving ruler her father had been a good thing?
“They never caused you harm.”
“Their existence caused offense; that is harm enough.”
“That is admission enough.” Barr’s cold tones sent a shiver through even her.
But the old Chrechte did not appear affected. “If you are looking for a confession, I will gladly claim the kills. Her father was king of his people. His death was a great blow to them, but not enough … not nearly enough, for here his daughter stands.” The fury and repugnance in his face and voice made Sabrine want to shake.
But she would not let this disgusting murderer see her weak.
“You are guilty.” Once again, Barr’s voice carried the weight and chill of final judgment.
Wirp shrugged. “Accuse me before the clan then.”
Suddenly, Niall released him.
Barr stepped forward. “I am laird. I need no one else to find you guilty.”
Wirp’s eyes filled with understanding and fear came too late as Barr grabbed the older man by the head, twisting and yanking at the same time. The snap of breaking bone sounded and the light of life died from Wirp’s eyes that quickly.
Barr allowed the body to fall.
She stared at him in shock. “You killed him.”
“Chrechte justice is swift. He admitted to killing two others of our kind; he showed no remorse. I had only one course of action open to me.”
“Will you hide it as a hunting accident?”
“I am not Rowland. The clan may well petition the king for a new laird, but I will not pretend to be less than I am. I am leader of this people and justice is my responsibility.”
“I wanted to kill him.” Only as she said the words, she realized that no matter how much she might wish she had, killing in anything other than defense did not come naturally to a raven. “I could not do it.” The words came out a whisper.
The knowledge broke something inside her and she fell to her knees, all strength gone.
Chapter 17
A harsh keening sound accosted her ears, but she could not cover them. Could not protect herself from the broken sound so filled with pain.
The grief of her parents’ death welled up from deep in her soul and mixed with her sense of failure, shattering her heart.
She had abandoned her brother when he needed her most, believing she was doing what was best for him. Now, she had no choice but to abandon her mate. No true Chrechte would abandon the mate gifted them by grace.
You are no failure. He spoke in her head as his arms came around her. You may be defender, but you are not killer.
You killed him. Even in her head, her voice was harsh from strain.
He admitted to murder.
If he had denied it?
I would have brought him before a tribunal of Chrechte elders.
From the Donegal clan?
Nay. There are too many there with twisted thinking yet. At least he acknowledged that. I would have taken him to the Sinclairs for Talorc to judge and mete justice.
Out loud, he whispered shushing noises as he rubbed her back and held her close. The awful wailing grew louder and she realized it came from her the same moment the heat of the tears rolling down her face penetrated. “I am crying.” She hiccupped.
“I noticed.”
“I do not cry.”
“Today, you do.”
Remembering the raven’s tears in the tree, she could do naught but agree. “Yes.”
He did not rush her or try to get her to stand. He simply held her, comforting her in the years-old grief as she cried with agonizing constrictions in
her chest.
All the while, she was aware, she did not deserve this warrior’s care. She had thought to leave him in loneliness and still he comforted her.
Niall carried the dead body back to the keep. Barr held Sabrine’s hand firmly while they walked. He had wanted to carry her, but she had refused.
He had been unable to hold his anger at her in the face of her emotional distress. She believed she had to leave him, but now that her enemy had been identified, she would come to realize she could stay.
She had no choice. She might not yet realize it, but his beautiful raven-natured mate carried his child.
She could not leave him. She would not.
They stopped in the courtyard, clanspeople streaming out to see what had happened.
“Was it a hunting accident then?” Muin asked, his expression stoic.
“Nay.” Barr intended to say more, but Niall cut him off.
“I found this man attacking my brother’s mate.”
Several gasps sounded. The word mate being whispered vehemently revealed that the shock could well be due more to the public claiming than the fact Wirp had been stopped in an attempt to hurt Sabrine.
Muin’s face crumpled, but he did not do as Barr expected. The younger man dropped to his knees before Sabrine. “I am so sorry.”
“It is not your fault.” His mate’s voice was hollow, drained of emotion.
“You would not be the first woman he attacked.” Muin’s head dropped. “He went after my mother, but I stopped him. I thought he would not do it again.” The shame in the young Chrechte’s voice was heartbreaking, even to a hardened warrior like Barr.
This clan had a vein of wrongness running through it that had to be healed.
Exhaustion lining her face, Sabrine laid her hands on Muin’s head. “You are not responsible for the evil of your grandfather.”
“I should have told the laird.”
Sabrine seemed incapable of responding to that. Others in the clan were not. Several negated his words with shakes of their heads, but one woman stepped forward.
She was of an age with Muin’s mother, though mayhap a few years younger.
“Wirp took what he had no right to take from me. He was an evil man. I did tell our former laird, but Rowland told me it was my fault for being too alluring.” The woman spat the words.
A moan of sorrow sounded from Muin.
Regardless of her own fragile state, Sabrine knelt down and hugged the young man, her head resting against his while her hand smoothed a soothing circle on his back. She would make a wonderful mother when the babe came.
“It was not your fault. Rowland did horrible things and let others get away with the same. Barr will heal this clan.”
Her confidence in him gave him hope when her rejection of his wolf had all but robbed him of that commodity.
“With all your help, we will make this clan a place of safety and joy for all its members,” Barr affirmed.
No shouts of approval came, but something far more telling, the fragrance of relief stole over the entire assembly until he felt as if he’d been sampling young Zachariah of the Sinclair’s mead again.
It was time to make one thing clear. He would have no dishonesty between him and his clan as Rowland had so clearly excelled at doing. “I will not lie to you, by omission or otherwise. My brother did not kill Muin. It was my job as laird to mete justice and I did so.”
This time the cheers did come, shocking him and echoing around him with deafening approval.
In the midst of this, Guaire stepped forward, looking much the contented man with a mate he had longed for all his life and not expected to have.
For all that he was human, Niall’s true bonded had some very distinct traits of the wolf.
He put his hand out and Barr took it, then pulled the smaller man into a hug. “Guaire.”
“Laird. Talorc sent me to train your seneschal. Though it would appear that may well be the least of your worries. Niall escorted me on the journey.”
Ah, so that was the story Talorc had decided to use. Some human members of the clans were odd about same-sex matings. So, Niall and Guaire did not live openly as mates, but they were happy all the same. With their Chrechte brethren and even some of the humans, they could be as open as any other mated pair. In truth, two bachelors living out their years together was not so uncommon among the humans in the clans, either.
How convenient that I assigned a new seneschal to the task mere days ago, Barr said to his brother with their mental bond.
Isn’t it?
Niall must have repeated the words to Guaire because he smiled. “Good.”
Some looked confused by the random response, but most were still reeling from the situation with Wirp.
“We will have a funeral pyre in the forest tonight.” Barr did not look forward to yet another death vigil for a wolf with a twisted soul, but he could not dismiss his responsibility as alpha to his pack.
Several clansmen looked unhappy.
“Attendance is not required,” he said.
Once again relief was a palpable presence among them. So Wirp had been even less beloved than Rowland.
Who else among the clan had fed the disease of violence and betrayal of the trust placed in them to protect the clan?
It was a question he had no answer for when his brother asked him just that the next day. They were leading a group of young Chrechte warriors on a hunt, much like he’d been doing the day he found Sabrine in the forest.
Earc remained at the keep, training the human soldiers, and Guaire had stayed behind to begin schooling Aodh in the ways of being a seneschal.
Barr and Niall fell back from the others, letting the younger men close in on the boar.
“They’re not going to bag this kill making that kind of noise,” Niall said quietly as he leaned against a tree.
“They’ll learn.” Or he’d have to do some head-banging.
“Aye.”
“Sabrine says she will not stay.”
Niall, never one for many words, just looked at Barr.
“She is here for some reason of her own that I have not yet discovered, but once she’s accomplished her goal, she will be gone.”
“You are sure of this?”
“Aye. I think she is looking for something.” He did not think she had found it yet, but he could not be certain.
“She is your true mate.”
Niall had not made it a question, but Barr answered anyway. “She is.”
“Does she know this?”
“She tried to deny it at first, but she has accepted the truth now.”
“And she would leave you?” Though his voice did not rise, Niall’s fury at such a reality was there in the skin gone white around his scars.
“She believes she has no choice.”
“She is wrong.”
“I have told her.”
Once again Niall went silent, as if contemplating a mate who refused to accept Barr’s word as law. Finally, he sighed. “Guaire is not afraid of me.”
“He never was.” Barr had tried to tell his brother, but Niall had been so certain of his lack of appeal because of the scars, he had not believed.
“He does as he pleases.” The frustration this caused Niall was a subtle tension in his voice.
“But he would never leave you.”
“He almost did.”
Barr remembered then that his brother had finally claimed his sacred mate when the other man had left the Sinclair holding, intent on going to live among the Balmoral.
“He would not do so now that you’ve claimed him.”
“Nay.”
They went silent again, the sound of an unsuccessful rush at the boar filtering through the trees. Barr would allow the younger ones some time to bumble on before stepping in to show them the way of the hunt … again. Perhaps they would even find success.
Though he was not hopeful.
“Guaire threatened to follow me here if I did not bring him al
ong.” Niall sounded both mystified by and proud of his feisty mate.
“It was your idea to make the journey?”
“I sensed something was amiss.”
Niall did not need to say more. Their bond had always been a particularly strong one, even for Chrechte brothers.
“Talorc let you go?”
“Without question. You are his friend.”
“Is Abigail still giving him fits?”
“She likes to go walking in the forest.”
Barr almost laughed. He could well imagine how that pastime would go over with his former laird. “Alone?”
“When she can get away with it.”
“He’s kept a guard assigned to her?”
“She’s sneaky.”
“Guaire is her helpmate, I bet.”
“Aye.” The growl in Niall’s voice expressed far more than his single-word answer.
“She is not yet carrying then?”
True mates would always produce offspring, but when they came? That was up to Heaven’s dictates.
“Actually, she is.”
“I’m surprised he doesn’t have her tied to his side.”
“I told him before leaving.”
“He didna realize?” Barr asked in disbelief.
“He was too close and the shift in her scent was slight.”
“Probably a human child then.”
“Aye.”
“Talorc is happy?”
“He was babbling when I left.”
“Babbling?” Talorc? That was something Barr would like to have seen.
“Oh, aye. I laughed.”
“And that did not give him heart failure on top of the news of his wife’s pregnancy?”
“I laugh more now.”
Because of Guaire. “I’m glad.”
Niall shrugged.
“You will tell them I share their happiness when you return.”
“I will.”
Barr nodded, his mood turning somber as quickly as it had lightened at the good news as his thoughts returned to his own mate.
Niall’s thoughts followed his own. “Sabrine came to your clan with hidden motives then?”
“She did.”
“Wirp’s death was not her objective?”
“I do not believe so.” She hadn’t been searching for a person, she’d been looking for something.
