by Unknown
“The… that’s… a type of willow, isn’t it?” Sybil remembered it from her teachings with the healer and her father. They had taught her to read and identify all the names of the plants.
“They have gone out, searching the woods for it,” Raife said, his eyes hardening at the thought. “That is where they were when she was caught. I told him she should’na be out, so close to pup.”
“It is supposed to keep you from changing?” Sybil tried to remember everything she knew about the huluppu. It was just another variation of willow, although it wasn’t anywhere near as abundant as some of the others. “Willow… willow is a pain reliever. But it keeps the blood from clotting!”
Sibyl sat straight up, eyes wide.
“Was she eating the willow?” Sybil gasped. “That explains why she was bleeding so much!”
“And it did’na even work.” Raife scoffed, shaking his dark head. “She still changed.”
“I wonder…” Sibyl considered the possibilities. Could a plant really stop a wulver’s transformation, like barley stopped burns or buckbean killed intestinal worms?
“I know Laina thinks it is unfair. And she has reason to fear the change. Males can change at will,” Raife explained. “Females… they have no choice. They change when they pup. They change when they go into heat.”
“Heat?” Sybil cocked her head, trying to work out what he was saying, and then she understood, feeling her own cheeks filling with heat.
“Moon blood…?” he explained, smiling at the way her cheeks pinked up.
“Menses.” Sybil blushed even brighter, saying the word in a man’s presence. Even she knew you didn’t talk about such things in front of menfolk. But she couldn’t help thinking about Laina—poor Laina. She was tied more to her body and its cycles than Sybil had ever thought about being. And here she’d believed she was limited by her gender!
“I will look for this willow before I am on my way,” Sybil decided with sudden determination. She would help Laina and her kind, if she could. It would be good to liberate the wulver woman from her gender’s prison, even if she couldn’t change her own.
“Ye will go t’sleep and we’ll discuss it on the morrow.” Raife was giving orders again. He stood, an imposing figure in his plaid, thick arms crossed over his broad chest.
“I will find it.” Sybil’s chin stuck out in defiance, more determined than ever.
“I believe ye.” He chuckled, turning to go. “Thank ye for what ye did for her. She is as much like a sister to me as Darrow is brother.”
“And Kirstin?” Sybil’s cheeks reddened when Raife hesitated at the doorway to turn and look at her. She didn’t know why she’d asked, but the words had escaped her mouth before she could stop them.
“Kirstin?” Raife smiled, looking amused. “What about her, lass?”
“I just….noticed the way she looked at you.” Sibyl squirmed on the bed, feeling his gaze pinned on her. She couldn’t help but notice the way Kirstin looked at him, like he was some sort of a god, or God himself. Not that she blamed the girl, not in the least.
“And what way is that?”
“The way a woman… looks at a man… who…” she stammered.
Oh damn him, she thought, unable to get the rest of the words out.
“I have no mate, Sybil,” he told her, his words soft but clear, those blue, blue eyes trained right on her, seeing into her, into parts and places she had yet to even explore herself. “There is no woman or wulver who has been marked by me.”
Marked. She wanted to know what that meant, but she was afraid to ask.
“G’nite, lass.” He moved to close the door but Sybil stopped him once again with her words.
“Where are you going?” she called.
“I will be right outside,” he assured her, smiling around the door’s edge.
“In that drafty tunnel hallway?” She frowned, glancing around the big room. “No. Sleep here. I insist.”
“Here?” His eyebrows went up when he looked at her and Sibyl swallowed at the heat in his gaze. “With you?”
“Oh, I mean…” She blinked, biting her lip. “You can sleep by the fire. Or have another mattress brought in…”
“Your reputation will’na survive until morning, I’m afraid,” Raife said softly. The look in his eyes warmed her from head to toe and she tried to ignore her body’s response.
“My reputation?” Sibyl gave a short, strangled laugh. The memory of Alistair and her uncle and their concern for her reputation seemed very far away in this strange place. “I don’t care about my reputation anymore.”
“You will,” he assured her with a short nod. “If you want to return to your world.”
If. Not when, if. As if it was a question. And was it? She wondered. She wouldn’t have thought twice about it a few hours ago, would have jumped on the first horse she could find and rode hell-bent on getting away from this place, away from Scotland, away. Away.
But she had been so focused on running away, she hadn’t considered where she might be running to.
“I’ll be right outside,” he told her again, once more pulling at the door.
And Sybil interrupted him yet again.
“This is silly!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in helpless desperation. “This room is big, there’s a fire. You can’t sleep in the hallway. You’ll catch your death!”
“No.” His gaze didn’t move from her face, his eyes saying so much, his mouth so little. “I can’na sleep in here.”
“Why not?” she protested.
“Because…” He hesitated just a moment before finishing his sentence. “I can’na trust myself around ye.”
“Trust yourself…” She laughed again, she couldn’t help it. “To do what? Not eat me?”
He smiled back at her, but there was no humor in it. In fact, the look in his eyes told her he was far from joking. Everything about him bespoke of the seriousness of his words, even though they might have been spoken in jest.
“That’s na’what I’m hungry for when I look at ye, lass.”
Sybil couldn’t answer that. There weren’t words. She felt the heat of his gaze on her body as if he had touched her with his admission, as if he’d undressed her in an instant and had his way with her. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even think.
He seemed to understand her sudden silence. That understanding was in his gaze as he dropped it to the floor and murmured, “G’nite,” for one final time before he pulled the door closed.
Chapter Six
It felt as if no time had passed at all when Kirstin knocked and entered her room in the morning. Maybe it was because it was still dark—there were no windows here, no sunlight streamed in to tickle her nose. Sibyl was still bone-tired but she got up, knowing she had a long way to walk today. And the next. And the day after that. She had no idea how long it was going to take to get back to Rose’s village, but however long it took her, she was going to have to stay off the roads, avoid Alistair’s men, and somehow stay dry, warm and fed.
Had Raife meant it when he said he would escort her wherever she wanted to go? There were no horses here, but if she could travel on a wolf, or even with one, she would feel far safer. The thought of traveling with him made her feel warm, even in spite of the room’s early morning chill.
“G’mornin!” Kirstin called out, smiling as she put a tray onto the table.
“Good morning.” Sibyl stretched and yawned and ventured out, stomach clenching in hunger the moment she smelled the food.
There was a bowl full of something like porridge, a few slices of bread, some soft cheese, and a tin cup of milk. She sat at the table, spooning in delicious mouthfuls or porridge—there was dried fruit, seeds and nuts in it—as Kirstin stoked the fire. It had died down to embers overnight.
“Ye can wear these while ye’re here.” Kirstin held up the plaid and leather belt Sybil had taken off the night before, the same one she’d worn to tend Laina. “We’re doing our best
to wash and mend your dress.”
“Thank you.” Sibyl made a face just thinking about that green velvet dress. “How is Laina this morning?”
“Better, thanks to you.” Kirstin smiled her gratitude.
Sibyl let the girl dress her. She would have insisted on doing it herself, but she wasn’t familiar with how it all worked. The plaid had loops the belt went through, and then the belt cinched at her waist, over the shirt she’d worn to bed. It was all very convenient, she thought, as Kirstin arranged the plaid fabric over her shoulder, tucking it back into the belt.
“I feel naked,” Sibyl murmured, glancing down at her bare legs and feet. She touched her long, uncovered hair. She wasn’t used to going around without some sort of head covering. It was common in Scotland, she’d noticed, but English ladies didn’t go out without a hat. Kirstin had taken her corset along with her dress, and Sybil discovered could take a full breath for the first time in months. She hadn’t felt this free in a long time.
“Ye look lovely.” Kirstin combed Sibyl’s hair as she finished eating her porridge and drank her milk. It was goat’s milk, rich and delicious. “Are ye sure ye don’na have Scots blood in ye? Yer hair’s as red as a rooster’s crown!”
“Mayhaps, somewhere back in my family tree.” Sibyl smiled. “Although my mother would faint if she heard me say it.”
She didn’t like thinking about her mother. Or her home. She didn’t have a home anymore, not really. Whatever connection she might have maintained between herself and the place she’d grown up had disappeared the moment she’d decided to run away. Whatever her life had been before, it would never be again.
“My dress will be ready soon?” Sibyl looked at her hopefully. Even if she didn’t wear it, she realized she could sell it for the cloth alone and pay for food for her trip, if she could find a buyer. She tried to remember the places they had passed on their trip over the border, if there had been anywhere promising she might sell a velvet gown.
“I had ’em take it out into the sun to dry.” Kirstin put more wood on the fire. The room had grown cool overnight and she wondered if they had to keep a fire going all day, even in the summer. The mountain retained the cold and Sibyl wasn’t used to being bare-legged. She was actually shivering.
“Sun?” Sibyl cocked her head as she tied her soft-soled shoes, wishing she had a pair of riding boots instead. “Outside?”
“A’course outside.” Kirstin laughed, taking Sibyl’s tray and heading toward the door. “Raife was askin’ after ye. Would ye like me to take ye to’im?”
Sibyl nodded, standing and following Kirstin out of the room. It was time to go, she decided, with or without an escort. She didn’t know if Raife had been serious about taking her wherever she wanted to go, but she wouldn’t turn down his offer, if he made it again.
They made their way through the tunnels and Sibyl kept as close to Kirstin as she could. They passed people on the way, men and women all dressed in plaid, and a few wolves too, which made her shrink instinctively toward the cool tunnel walls.
“They will’na hurt ye,” Kirstin assured her as they traveled deeper into the mountain. “Raife has guaranteed your safety.”
“I’m not so sure Darrow is going to listen to him,” Sibyl muttered, remembering how Raife’s brother had glared at her and argued with him, even if she had helped his wife the night before. Darrow didn’t like her presence, didn’t want her there.
“Raife leads our pack,” Kirstin informed her. “Even if Darrow doesn’t like it, he will follow. He must.”
It didn’t surprise Sybil in the least that Raife was their leader.
“So you…” Sibyl cleared her throat, thinking of how to phrase the question as they went through the busy dining hall. There were people still sitting at long tables, talking in Gaelic, laughing together, eating breakfast. “Raife mentioned that you don’t… eat… people?”
“Not for a very long time. It is against the pact,” Kirstin said as they passed through the kitchen. “We just want to live peacefully.”
“And all the swords?” Sibyl eyed a rack of them, literally hundreds of blades, as they passed into a tunnel. If these men were peaceful, their weaponry told a different story.
“Our men are trained as warriors, ’tis true.” Kirstin shrugged as they neared the end of the tunnel. There was sunlight there, at the end of the darkness. “But they do not fight unless they have to.”
The sun was welcome and Sibyl turned her face up to it, breathing in the cool mountain air. There were women washing clothes to the right, standing barefoot in a stream. The valley they entered was covered in green, spotted with the purple of heather, and in the middle of it all was a sight that made Sibyl gasp aloud.
“Have ye not seen the warriors?” Kirstin glanced back in surprise at Sibyl as she shrank toward the opening in the side of the mountain, but she couldn’t have been any more surprised than Sibyl was herself.
I’m not going to faint again, Sibyl told herself, leaning against the solid rock, the world tilting sideways as she watched the half-men, half-wolves wielding their swords against each other in the early morning sunlight, the sound of steel against steel ringing over the mountain. As strange a sight as it was, Sibyl spotted Raife instantly, his long, dark hair trailing behind him in waves as he half growled, half roared and leapt completely over his opponent.
She didn’t know how she recognized him, because his face wasn’t his own—his snout was long, his canine teeth sharp as he snarled and swung his sword behind him to catch and stop the other half-wolf’s blow. But she did. She knew him instantly.
Her heart stopped, her knees wobbled, hands trembling as she brought them to her quivering mouth. The big half-wolf—he seemed twice his human size to Sibyl from here—sniffed the air, eyes flashing and ears twitching as those blue eyes turned their way.
He was a wolf from the neck up, but his body was the same—broad, tanned chest, ridged abdomen, the muscles in his back taut as he kept his opponent’s sword at bay. Raife’s heavily muscled thighs bulged as he twisted and avoided the swing of the other wolf-man’s weapon. The sound of steel striking rock rang through the valley and Sibyl gasped as Raife gave a low, keening howl, shaking his head quickly from side to side.
One moment he was a wolf—half a wolf, at any rate—and the next he was changed back to a man, tossing his heavy sword aside with a scowl as he approached. The other wolf-man did the same, and she saw that Raife had been fighting with his brother, Darrow.
“I told ye to come git me when she woke,” Raife snapped at Kirstin.
“Did ye?” She blinked at him and Sibyl sensed something pass between them. Clearly Kirstin had defied his wishes. “She wanted to come outside. Didn’t ye, Lady Sibyl?”
“I did ask,” Sibyl admitted, blinking at him in surprise. “I thought, mayhaps, I should go soon…?”
“I must speak wit ye.” Raife gave a slow nod, glancing at Kirstin, eyes narrowing briefly.
He held out his hand to Sibyl and she hesitated only a moment before taking it. She tried to ignore the heat in her cheeks as she did so, letting him help her over the rocks, trying to ignore the eyes on them as Raife led her away from the mountain. The women doing wash watched them, whispering behind their hands. Kirstin had gone over to join them and Sibyl knew the girl must be telling them all about their strange human interloper and her odd ways.
She’d expected to be a stranger in a strange land when her uncle had informed her she would be a Scotsman’s English bride, but she had never expected anything like this.
They walked down the sloping hill and up another. There were no more rocks to clamber over, but Raife didn’t let go of his steadying hand as they made their way over the crest. When Sibyl looked back, she noticed they were out of the line of sight of the rest of the pack, although she could hear the women singing and the ring of steel as swords began clashing again.
“Did we scare ye?” Raife asked, glancing down at her.
“No.” She was ly
ing, but just a little. She had started to get used to this world, as strange as it was. “I don’t scare easily.”
“’Tis true.” He smiled, stopping as they neared a tree, leaning against the trunk to look down at her. He still held her hand in his, thumb rubbing over the top of her knuckles. “Ye are a brave little lass.”
“Was there something you wanted to speak to me about?” She swallowed, looking up, way up, into his observant blue eyes.
“I have some bad news for ye. “ He glanced back the way they’d come, brow knitted, jaw working. “I sent scouts out early, before dawn. I’m afraid…”
“He’s looking for me.” She knew it was true. Of course it was. Alistair wasn’t going to give up that easy.
“I can’na let ye go.” Raife’s hand swallowed hers. “Until I’m sure it’s safe.”
“Raife…” She blinked up at him, feeling strange in her Scots’ plaid, especially the way he looked at her in it. This was not her home, these were not her people. “I cannot stay here. I must be away.”
“Where will ye go?” He reached out to brush a stray strand of hair away from her cheek, looking concerned. “Is there someone waiting for ye, lass?”
Their eyes met and she knew he was thinking about Alistair. So was she. Her betrothed would certainly be looking for her, although he wouldn’t want to marry her, not anymore. Or mayhaps he would, still—only to make her life a living hell. That would be more Alistair’s predilection and if the thought of being married to him had repelled her before, it terrified her now. She could never allow herself to be brought before him again, in any capacity.
“I would keep ye safe.” Raife’s eyes were so expressive and his heart was in them. “If… if there is no one who already has claim on ye.”
She hesitated, considering his words. She knew what he was asking and was afraid to answer him, to tell him the truth. He knew she’d been promised to Alistair—but he also knew she didn’t want that marriage. She had run away from it, straight into this man’s world, but in her rush to escape, she hadn’t thought past her immediate future. She couldn’t go home to England, not to her mother and her uncle. She knew she would never see them again, after what she had done.
