Divine by Blood

by P. C. Cast

  “Depends on?”

  “I’m going to ask a price for the sharing.” His eyes sparkled mischievously.

  Morrigan frowned. She already wanted him; she didn’t like the thought that he wanted to barter with her desire. “I don’t sell myself,” she said, all teasing gone from her voice.

  His face sobered instantly. “You misunderstand me, Morrigan. I would never try to buy you. I was making a jest, perhaps a poor one, and was simply going to try to purchase more Oklahoma words from you.”

  Morrigan felt her cheeks getting warm. She really was acting like a raving bitch. “Oh, sorry about overreacting.”

  “You just need to eat. After a powerful ritual the body and soul need to be replenished.” He held out his arm to her again. “I know a spot not far from here that would be a perfect place for us to eat.”

  “That sounds good.” Morrigan slid her hand over the top of his forearm and let him escort her, like an old-time knight. She liked the way he felt—his strength and his heat. She liked how he shortened his incredibly long stride so that she didn’t have to jog to walk beside him. She also liked that, unlike Kyle, he wasn’t so shy around her.

  “Are you becoming used to touching me?” He bent intimately toward her, keeping his arm close to his side so that Morrigan’s body brushed against his as they walked.

  She looked up at him and the passion shivered through her body again. Her smile was flirtatious. “I don’t know. I might have to do it some more to see for sure.”

  “As I said, my Lady, your wishes shall be my commands.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Kegan showed her a path that ran around the side of the mouth of the cave, and then circled up and over the top of it. As she held her dress up and out of the way with one hand, and clung to the centaur’s arm with the other, she realized that this was the same path that led down to the cave in Oklahoma. On top of it there had been a pretty park area built, complete with outdoor grills and picnic tables, which was where she and her girlfriends had unpacked and eaten G-ma’s picnic lunch a week ago. Just a week ago! It seemed like a lifetime had passed and not seven short days.

  Standing on top of the cave entrance, Morrigan was awed by the lush, untamed beauty that surrounded her. She walked over to the lip of the cave and turned slowly in a complete circle, taking in everything she could see.

  “So this is Partholon.” She spoke her thought aloud, glad that she’d admitted to Kegan that she was from a faraway place.

  Kegan laughed. “No, Morrigan. This is the Realm of the Sidetha.” He pointed. “Do you see the green outline there in the far south?”

  “Yes.”

  “That is Partholon.”

  “Well, it looks pretty, but I think I’m partial to this.” Morrigan threw wide her arms and spun in another slow circle. It reminded her a lot of the land around the Alabaster Caves in Oklahoma, only this place was so much bigger! The similarities were there, though. Her first impression of this part of her home state was that it looked more like what she’d imagined New Mexico to look like than Oklahoma. The mountains were rocky and scrub covered—the dirt was really red—and there were even cactuses all over. Here some of that was the same, except that she could see the land to the east had been planted with what looked like wheat and corn. The rest of it reminded her of Oklahoma, only it was more so: bigger, wilder, more like an imagined Old West. It had a beauty that was untamed and powerful. When she looked to her left the rough mountains got even bigger and they seemed to lose any vegetation and were a red that was deeper than the earthy rust color around her cave.

  “The Tier Mountains,” Kegan said. “The Realm of the Sidetha tunnels under the eastern half of the mountains, but the Tiers go on from here to the sea. Except for Guardian Castle, which watches the only pass through the mountains, no one claims that land. It has a dark reputation, and is better left alone.”

  His words gave Morrigan a little prickle of foreboding.

  “To the east the Realm of the Sidetha stretches on until it meets the inhospitable Land of the Cyclops.”

  Morrigan’s eyes widened. “Cyclops?”

  Kegan grinned. “None of them in Oklahoma, either?”

  “Only in books.”

  “You come from an odd place, my Lady.”

  She took up his teasing tone. “You know, I was just thinking the same thing about you.” He started to protest and she waved him off. “I wish you would continue my tour, please.”

  His grin turned wry, and he bowed slightly, saying, “Your wish—my command.” He gestured to the land in front of them and Morrigan looked out over the top of the cave. “The Salt Plains are Sidetha land, but soon they give way to the Wastelands, which is even more uninhabitable than the Land of the Cyclops.”

  Morrigan took the last few steps forward. The sight made her feel breathless and small, but at the same time connected and somehow part of the vast majesty of the land. From the mountains in which the mouth of the Sidetha cave system was located, the land took an abrupt downward plunge until it met what looked to Morrigan like a huge, glassy lake. Out of the lake jutted shards of raw rock that glistened gold in the morning sun.

  “The Salt Plains? But isn’t that a lake?”

  “I suppose you could call it that, and it appears like a lake from a distance, but it never gets any deeper than your shapely calf, and it is saltier than the sea.”

  “Are the rocks really gold?”

  “No, they’re just taking on the color of the sun right now. Actually, they’re made of the same crystals as the cave.”

  Morrigan’s eyes widened and she grabbed his arm in excitement. “The crystals! My crystals! Those huge rocks are all made of the crystals that speak to me?”

  “They are. Wouldn’t it be magnificent if you went out on the Plains as the sun was setting and called the light of the crystals alive?”

  “I’m going to do it! Kegan, it’s going to be amazing!” Impulsively she hugged him, and the heat of him against her skin had her recalling just how amazing his mouth had felt on hers.

  His vibrant blue gaze said that he was recalling the same thing. “Then let us make it sunset tonight. Allow me to escort you there.” His smile was cocky, his tone teasing. “With me, my Lady, you have a protector and a mount all in one.”

  Morrigan’s lips tilted up. “What if I need protection against you?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead he bent and kissed her lightly—too lightly for Morrigan’s taste. Kegan’s grin said he read exactly that in her eyes. He kept an arm looped possessively around her shoulders as he guided her away from the lip of the cave back toward the semiflat boulder on which he’d deposited the basket of food. “You should eat and drink, especially if you’re going to call the crystals to you again tonight.”

  “I am starving.” Using the boulder as a table, Morrigan started pulling things out of the basket, only to pause her actions when Kegan folded his legs and reclined across from her.

  “Different from the pages of a book?” he said, catching her curious look.

  “Unimaginably different.” She used a conveniently close rock for a makeshift chair, sat, and then handed Kegan a biscuit that had been filled with cold bacon and fragrant cheese. “Yum, these smell wonderful,” she said before biting into her own.

  They ate for a while in silence, which Morrigan was just beginning to feel might be turning awkward. Without really thinking, she blurted out the first question that came to her mind. “So, you’re a High Shaman and the youngest Master Sculptor in Partholon?” She wanted to smack herself on the forehead for sounding like a fan girl, but Kegan answered her easily.

  “I am. During this past moon the Lady Rhiannon named me Master Sculptor. Five full passes of the seasons ago I drank of Epona’s chalice at the Goddess’s well and accepted the gift of High Shaman.”

  Intrigued by the subject, as well as by the handsome centaur himself, Morrigan’s mind bubbled with questions. “Is Epona’s well in Partholon?”

  “It isn�
��t in this world at all. It is in the Otherworld—the place of gods and goddesses and spirits.”

  “Was it scary going there?”

  Kegan smiled. “Only my spirit traveled there and, yes, some parts of a shaman’s journey are scary.”

  “What does a High Shaman do?”

  Kegan’s brow wrinkled. “Do you not have High Shamans in Oklahoma?”

  Her immediate response was a big No Way, and then she thought about some of her grandma’s Wiccan and pagan friends, and also about the Native Americans she’d met at various powwows, and changed her answer. “We do, but everything is so different there. You know—” she grinned at him cheekily “—no centaurs.”

  He snorted. “Different, indeed. Well, as a centaur High Shaman I wield spiritual powers. I can walk in the Otherworld and find shattered souls. I help to nurture the good in my herd, as well as rebuke evil.”

  “So you’re kind of like a spirit doctor?”

  “I am. Though because I am the youngest male High Shaman of our herd, I chose to exercise my sword arm as much as my spiritual abilities.”

  “Really? I’d think you would have said that you chose to exercise your talents as a sculptor. Sculptor, High Shaman, warrior—it’s the warrior part that doesn’t feel right in that equation.”

  “Well, that’s probably because I never intended to be a sculptor, Master or otherwise.” He gave a little laugh and rubbed his hand through his thick, golden-blond hair. “Actually, it was because of my desire to be a warrior that my talent as a sculptor was discovered.”

  “Okay, you’ve got to explain that.”

  “I was young, only about ten passes of the seasons old. As is typical with colts, I was frustrated by the speed at which my instructor was teaching me the art of swordplay. I, of course, believed I already knew everything, and was quite beyond using a wooden practice sword. So I used my position as the Herdmaster’s son, albeit the youngest.” Here Kegan paused and shook his head in a self-deprecating gesture. “Now I understand the smithy was only humoring me—then I believed he was acknowledging my rank.”

  Morrigan laughed and said, “Sounds like centaur children are a lot like Oklahoma children. My grandparents raised me, and I remember believing that all of my teachers paid extra attention to me because I was so smart and funny. Now I realize I got extra attention because Grandpa had practically been a living legend as a coach and a teacher, and they all knew him. Basically, they were just looking out for his granddaughter and humoring me.”

  “We definitely have that in common. So, the smithy let me fashion my own metal sword. Then I made the mistake of actually listening to what I now know are the spirits in the metal. They told me the embellishment they wanted carved on their hilt.” Kegan shrugged. “So I carved it. Seemed like a ridiculously simple thing to me, but when the smithy saw the finished sword he immediately took it to my mother. It was then that my swordsmanship lessons were supplanted by instruction in carving. The rest, as they say, is history.”

  “You sound like you wish no one had found out about your talent for carving.”

  “I did then. As I matured, my feelings changed, and I appreciate my Goddess-given talent now. Then, I simply wanted to become a warrior.”

  “But you said you are a warrior. You must have continued your sword lessons.”

  “I did. Much to the irritation of my parents and my sculpting instructors. They feared I would cut off a finger.”

  Morrigan laughed as he held up his hands and wiggled his fingers and folded over several fingers, pretending that they had been lopped off.

  He laughed with her and then sobered and said, “But today I found myself being more grateful for my talent. Were I not Partholon’s Master Sculptor I would not have been asked to accompany Kai here to carve Myrna’s effigy, and then I would not have met you.”

  Morrigan nodded absently and reached for a floppy bag that was corked. She took her time opening it, sniffing the contents, and then drinking deeply of the sweet, cool wine while she decided just exactly how to word her next question. Finally, she looked up at Kegan to find him watching her.

  “How well did you know Myrna?”

  “Fairly well. I courted her.”

  That sent a little jolt through Morrigan. “You were with Myrna?”

  “Not really. It’s more accurate to say that I attempted to be with her. Myrna was never interested in me, or in any of the other centaurs who wooed her. She met the human she eventually married when they were children. He won her heart early and kept it, much to Lady Rhiannon’s dismay I’m sure. Though once the two were betrothed, he seemed to be well accepted.”

  “Wait. Myrna’s parents didn’t approve of the man she loved?”

  Kegan popped a piece of cheese in his mouth, and continued to speak around it. “The part about Lady Rhiannon being dismayed is just my own supposition. You’d have to ask Kai for the truth. He’s very close to Epona’s Chosen and ClanFintan. My guess is that it was not so much that they didn’t approve of Grant, but what it meant for Myrna to choose a human as a mate.”

  Morrigan mentally filed away what Kegan had said about Kai. And then, remembering what Birkita had told her about centaurs and Epona’s Chosen, Morrigan realized the meaning behind Kegan’s words. “Myrna mating with a human man would mean she wouldn’t be Epona’s Chosen after her mom.”

  Kegan nodded, chewed another bite of food thoughtfully and finally said, “You look like her.”

  Morrigan had told herself to be ready for something like this, but still his words made her go numb. “I look like Myrna?” she said, trying to add nothing but the appropriate amount of curiosity to her voice.

  “Yes, well, Lady Rhiannon, too. Myrna looked a lot like her mother.”

  “What is it, the same color hair or eyes or something like that?” she said nonchalantly.

  Kegan snorted. “The same everything. You and Myrna could have been twins. You look like you were born from the same mother’s womb.”

  Morrigan’s stomach rolled. “That’s impossible. My mother died giving birth to me.”

  “I am sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” Morrigan shook her hair back and took another drink of the wine. “Anyway, sometimes people resemble each other.”

  “It’s decidedly more than that. Except for the difference being a Light Bringer makes in you, the two of you are almost identical.”

  Morrigan frowned. “What do you mean, the difference being a Light Bringer makes?”

  “Surely you are aware of how it changes you when the spirits of the crystals fill you?” He reached out and stroked his thumb down Morrigan’s arm. “What it does to that luscious body of yours—how it makes you shine, burn, sizzle with passion and power.” She shivered under his touch. His smile was slow and knowing. “Myrna never wielded such power.”

  Morrigan pulled her arm back and forced herself not to rub the skin he’d caressed and where she could still feel his touch. “So there you have it. Myrna and I aren’t really that alike. It’s just one of those freaky coincidences.”

  “Freaky…” He tasted the word, and then grinned. “Which reminds me, you owe me more Oklahoma words.”

  Morrigan was glad to change the subject, so she raised an eyebrow playfully. “I don’t know if you can be trusted to use them correctly. You know, words are powerful weapons.”

  “Ah, but you must remember that I am a High Shaman as well as a warrior—I’m trained to wield swords and words.”

  She tapped her chin and studied him as if she was giving his statement serious thought. “Okay, I’ll give you another Oklahoma word, but only because you’re a High Shaman, so you might be able to handle it.”

  He bowed his head graciously. “Thank you, my Lady.”

  “Y’all,” Morrigan said.

  “My Lady?”

  “Yaaaa all,” she repeated more slowly. “It means several people. Like, ‘Y’all come back now, hear?’ Understand?”

  “Y’all,” he said. “Like, �
�Y’all have an odd way of speaking in Oklahoma.’”

  “Exactly like that.” They smiled at each other and Morrigan felt the sizzle of attraction that passed between them all the way down in her toes. “If you’re good, tonight I may teach you an Oklahoma hello.”

  The centaur leaned forward and took her hand, lazily circling his thumb over her skin. “I assure you, my Lady, that I am very good.”

  Kegan was lifting her hand to his mouth and Morrigan was attempting to come up with a witty yet sexy reply when Brina chose that moment to pad up the path. The big cat took one look at Kegan touching her, and, as Morrigan later described it to Birkita, turned into psycho-freak cat. Brina’s eyes narrowed to dangerous yellow slits. Her tail went straight up and her fur stood up all along her hackles. Then she bared her teeth and hissed a warning, clearly aimed at the centaur. Who, wisely, let loose Morrigan’s hand.

  “Brina! What’s wrong with you?” Morrigan chastised her. “Come here and act right.” She held out her hand to the big cat, and Brina moved to her, all the while keeping her slit-eyed glare on Kegan. “Jeesh, settle down.” Morrigan stroked the cat, and Brina leaned into her, but she didn’t stop glaring at Kegan. “He wasn’t hurting me. He was just kissing my hand.” She glanced up at Kegan. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s good that she is so protective of her lady.”

  “Well, she definitely knows how to kill a mood.” Morrigan sighed, gave Brina another long caress, and then started putting the scraps of leftover food and wine back in the basket. “Actually, except for her rudeness, Brina’s interruption is a good thing. I really should be getting back. There are things I need to take care of before tonight.” One of those things should probably be apologizing to Birkita for how short she’d been with her after the ritual. She was starting to feel really crappy about it. Maybe Birkita didn’t know as much about Light Bringers as Kegan did. Maybe she didn’t know that Morrigan was supposed to do things her own way—make her own path—which was why the ritual was different from anything Birkita was used to. Morrigan shouldn’t have been so pissed off. Birkita hadn’t really even said much to her.