“I know.” She worried at her lower lip. “I just hate having this growing sense of unease without a little more foresight.”
“Aye,” he murmured in her ear. “But you’re not alone in this anymore, lass. Remember that. ‘Tis not just your lone wolf trying to navigate this thing but you and me together.”
She nodded and leaned her head back against his chest, grateful for his level mind. For him in general. “I just keep wondering how it all fits together. The curse, maybe Alyssa, Marek, my virginal druidess, your immortal warrior.” She couldn’t help a dry chuckle. “It truly all sounds like something out of a bonafide fairytale, doesn’t it?”
“Thanks.” Chloe chuckled and winked. She and Aidan rode alongside. “One heck of a fairytale at that!” Her humor faded, and she looked at Ciara and Ethyn with compassion. “Seriously, though, all aside, I don’t doubt for a second you two are meant for each other.” She shook her head. “Not with the way Ethyn loved you in that life, Ciara. Not to sound cliché, but you completed him. I know it like I know Aidan’s my soulmate.”
Chloe narrowed her eyes, smiling, suddenly remembering as though their memory that morning triggered more of hers. “Just the way Ethyn spoke about your first encounter, then the next and the next...”
Ciara came to attention when not only Chloe’s voice faded, but everyone around them.
Just like that, their cursed-lines had shifted them again.
“We’re back in Ireland,” she whispered. The sun sat low in the sky, the late summer day enchanting.
“Where else would we be?” Ethyn swung down, then pulled her after him. “And, as always, close to our Stonehenge.”
She nodded in agreement that in some small way, it did feel like their Stonehenge, so where else would they be? This time when they snuck through the woods, it wasn’t to find a unicorn and Fianna warrior playing but a far more intimate scene. Gone was the shy doe-eyed druidess first meeting her warrior. In her place, more of a lovesick woman navigating the barrier between her and the man she loved.
“Strange how we don’t look precisely like we do in this life, but there’s a similarity,” Ciara said into Ethyn’s mind. They ducked behind the same shrubbery as before. She took in her former attire, from the cinched beaded waist of her robes to the ring of flowers on her head. “I seem so...young.”
“No younger than you are now.” He rested his hand on her back, needing to touch and protect her subconsciously. “Though clearly wise, she’s far more innocent than you. Not for obvious reasons now, but because she hasn’t lived countless lives as a wolf pining after the man she loves. Nor has she witnessed the evil yet that cursed her. Cursed us.”
“She hasn’t, has she,” she whispered, saying it less as a question and more as a statement. She watched the druidess interact with her warrior at the base of the great oak next to their stone. He braced his hand against the trunk and leaned close, whispering in her ear. Likely because it was their memory, they could hear despite the distance. Feel despite the space in between.
“The loss would be too great, my love,” the druidess responded. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she placed her hand on his chest. “There are too many that need me.”
“They would not lose ye, for ye would be with me.” He looked upward, referring to the woodland creatures in the tree. “And though ye would not be as powerful, ye would still have yer good heart. Yer kindness toward them. Yer way of communicating with and protecting them.”
“But ‘twill not be like it is now, and we both know it,” she said softly. “We also know ‘tis not just the woodland creatures we must consider.”
“I will not speak of it.” He cupped her cheek and rested his forehead against hers. “I will not speak of him.”
“Ye mean them.”
“Nay, I mean him until...”
When he broke off, clearly emotional, she cupped his cheek as well and met his eyes. “If I know nothing else ‘tis that ye must let go of this trust ye still feel toward him. For ‘twill be yer downfall, my love. Our downfall.”
“But he is Fianna,” he said, saddened. “A brother.”
“I know,” she whispered, pleading with her eyes, hopeless even as she was hopeful. “Yet a threat nonetheless.”
“Aye, lass, a threat,” he murmured before he kissed her, and the two of them faded away, lost to yet another memory.
Moments later, Ciara and Ethyn were once again on his horse. This time, however, they weren’t wandering off in the woods but still alongside everyone else as though they’d never left. She glanced over her shoulder into Ethyn’s eyes. “It went far smoother that time, didn’t it? You experienced no nausea, nothing?”
He shook his head. “Nay.”
“You traveled again, didn't you?” Chloe asked. “Back to ancient Ireland?”
“Yeah.” Ciara frowned at her. “How did you know?”
“Because you weren’t the only one if Marek’s behavior is anything to go off of.” She gestured to their left. “Though he never physically left either, I think you might’ve brought him along.”
As though fighting nausea rather than pain this time, Marek was off his horse with his hand braced against a tree, and his head hung. Cray stood beside him, clearly upset. When he saw Ciara and Ethyn split off from the retinue and head their way, he crossed his arms over his chest and blocked them from getting to his brother.
“What the bloody hell did you two do?” Cray growled.
“We didnae do anything, cousin.” Ethyn shook his head, confused as they dismounted. “We traveled to the Irish Stonehenge again, but Marek wasnae there.”
“Not that we could see or sense anyway,” she contributed softly, having a bad feeling about this. She peered around Cray at his brother. “Were you there, Marek? Were you at the Irish Stonehenge?”
“Aye.” He nodded then shook his head. “Nay.” He sighed and finally looked at them. “I was there, but not there. ‘Tis hard to explain.”
“Try,” Ethyn urged, narrowing his eyes, sensing the same thing as her. Something was horribly off. “What happened when you were there, Marek? What did you see?”
“Darkness and light.” Marek’s eyes shifted, not quite right as they locked on Ciara. “A beginning and an end.”
“Bloody hell, I dinnae like this.” Cray shook his head, his features tight as he unsheathed his blade. “Dinnae make me point this at ye, brother.” He kept shaking his head. His dragon eyes flared. “Dinnae make me.”
“’Twould have been so easy if ye but listened,” Marek growled, his voice gravelly and different as he homed in on Ethyn. “If ye allowed me but one small favor.”
“Favor?” Ethyn whispered, clearly sensing something in that. He frowned and shook his head, trying to understand. “What favor?”
“To trust me.” Marek scowled. “To trust that I knew what I was doing.”
Ethyn continued shaking his head, clearly trying to understand, but it was no use. Seemingly caught between two realities, Marek cursed under his breath and stalked off into the woods, muttering something about catching up with them once he cleared his head. When Cray started after him, Madison joined them and stopped him.
“Give him some space.” She wrapped her arms around Cray and met his eyes, effortlessly getting through to him despite his fear over his brother’s behavior. “They’re all drawing really close to the truth now. Let them find it the way the rings intend. The way fate intends.”
“She’s right.” Ciara looked at Ethyn. “There’s only one way forward now, and it’s through the rings. Through the magic, both wizardly and godly, behind them.”
“And through our memories,” Ethyn replied. “What they’ll show us.”
Which, as it happened, was more than they anticipated moments later when Cray and Madison vanished, and several Fianna warriors appeared around them.
Chapter Eighteen
“WHY AREN’T THEY talking?” Ciara said into his mind, eyeing the Fianna warriors surrounding them. “Why are they ju
st staring at us?”
More importantly, Ethyn thought, had they traveled through time again? Or was this like when he saw his Fianna brethren before? Mayhap another test?
As it turned out, if it were, it was the most difficult one to date as Marek came striding back with his blade drawn and fire in his eyes. Again, he wasn’t himself. Or was he? It was hard to tell as the Fianna’s parted and let Marek come at him.
Yet again, when he shoved Ciara behind him, she muttered, “hell no,” and shifted.
He glanced at his Celtic brethren in arms, wondering if they were going to step in, but it appeared this battle was his and his alone. Or should he say his and Phelan’s considering his wolf wasn’t held back by an unseen barrier this time.
“What is this, Marek?” he asked as his cousin circled him, sizing him up, clearly gauging what he faced. What Ethyn was capable of. “What are ye doing?”
Marek never responded but snarled at Phelan when her hackles raised. In turn, she snarled back. Oddly, the whole situation was familiar somehow. As if in some strange way they had done this before. Even the silent sentinel of Fianna warriors surrounding them felt familiar.
How could that be, though?
When his cousin finally made his move, it was with a mighty roar and a sword that came fast and furious. While Ethyn was an excellent fighter, he was not as good as Marek. No one was. Until now. Until he pulled the Viking blade free and fought him with a speed and agility, he didn’t know he possessed.
Skill that had belonged to him in another life.
Their swords met at breakneck, supernatural speed in a dance that outdid all others. A battle more intense than when he’d been tested by the Fiannas. Fighting so fast, he wasn’t sure how his hands and body kept up with his thoughts. The driving force of his blade. Even his footwork was lightning quick as he and Marek sliced and cut, ducked and avoided. Like him, his cousin never broke a sweat but fought with amazing agility.
Enhanced Fianna technique if he weren’t mistaken.
Meanwhile, Phelan, Ciara, didn’t attack but stalked around them with her teeth bared and her hackles raised. Interestingly, she was threatened by Marek but not enough to lunge at him. So this had to be some sort of test after all, right?
Or mayhap a reminder?
As if in direct response to his thought, Marek roared, “one bloody favor!” spun away and thrust his sword into Phelan.
He had struck a death blow.
One that would kill her.
Take her away.
“No!” Everything seemed to go into slow motion as he raced to Phelan, fell to his knees, and flung his arms around her. “Dinnae die on me, lass. Not now.”
“It’s okay, I’m okay, Ethyn.” The next thing he knew, Phelan was gone, and Ciara’s arms were around him. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “It’s fine. Really. I don’t think...that was real.”
“Bloody hell, thank the gods.” When he looked her over, he found no wounds. She was right. No harm had befallen her. Yet it had seemed so real. So heartbreaking. He held her tightly and buried his face in her hair. “I thought...”
When he choked off, she held on tighter, assuring him she was unscathed. All was well. She was alive. In his arms. Safe.
Once he gathered himself, he pulled back, looked her over once more just to be sure then pulled her to her feet. Before she could say a word, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her hard. Whether she was wolf or woman, she belonged to him. She meant everything in a way that cut deep. That went far beyond love to something of the soul. Something that had been part of him for a very long time.
“I’m okay,” she murmured, smiling against his lips. Her damp eyes met his. “Really, I was never harmed. Not for a moment.”
“So it was all just some sort of test then? Mayhap even a reminder of something?” He looked around. No one was there. Not the Fiannas or Marek. Even Cray, Madison, and King David’s retinue were gone.
“I think so.” She nodded then shook her head. “I’m pretty sure Marek, Cray, and Madison were here, though.” She kept shaking her head. “Though I’m not sure Marek actually came back and fought. Because had he, Phelan would've, should have, done more than just growl at him. She would have attacked.” She pondered that. “Honestly, it kind of felt like she might've been protecting someone other than you.”
“Who?”
“I have no idea.” She glanced around. “Whoever they were, once the fighting began, they weren't actually here any more than anyone else was except maybe Marek. If, of course, that was truly him. It’s hard to know.”
“On that, we agree,” Grant said, materializing beside them. He drifted on the wind more than usual. “I get the sense if that was Marek, he didnae know he was here. Which would mean he was possessed.” He shook his head. “But then he wouldnae have vanished like that if ‘twas a mere possession.”
“Which leads back to my theory that it might have been a reminder about something,” Ethyn said.
“Aye, mayhap,” Grant concurred. “Or more pointedly, a warning of sorts.”
Ethyn frowned. “What kind of a warning?
“’Tis hard to know.” He shrugged. “Mayhap, it had to do with your previous life. A battle you two got in. Or a battle ahead. Time will tell.” He gazed around in wonder, having obviously seen the whole thing, including the Fianna warriors. “Either way, ’twas impressive!”
Ethyn shook his head, baffled. Upset. “’Twas not any battle I wish to repeat.”
Glad to see their horse grazing nearby, he pulled Ciara that way.
“Be that as it may,” Grant replied, sounding quite sure, “I dinnae doubt ’twas a battle you needed to experience.”
Ethyn and Ciara mounted, set to catch up with King David, who, based on the sun’s position, was several hours ahead by now.
“Whether it be a reminder or a warning, I’d say your Fianna brethren wanted you to see it, Ethyn.” Grant’s knowing gaze went to Ciara. “I imagine they were showing you something too, lass.”
“What, that Marek might’ve been my enemy as well?”
“Aye, nay, ‘tis hard to know, but I took something verra specific from it.” Grant perked a brow at her. “That somehow he was responsible for your demise.”
“That’s a lot to presume off what was essentially a vision,” Ethyn muttered. “And that would undoubtedly make Marek my enemy.”
“Which, as he hinted at earlier, he might verra well be, aye?” Grant kept pace when Ethyn spurred the horse. “I think what you just saw was a means to remind all of you what happened and what lays ahead.” Half of his ethereal form snagged on a tree trunk before he caught up with himself. “Pay attention to every detail for there is truth in it. Mayhap not easy-to-ken straightforward truth but truth regardless. Truth that could make all the difference.”
He went to speak again but vanished in a burst of shiny gold particles when a ray of sunlight hit him.
“Just like the unicorn,” Ciara murmured.
“What is it?” He felt her mind seeking something just beyond her grasp. Just out of reach. “What did you just sense, lass?”
“That Grant’s right.” She met his eyes over her shoulder. “There’s more to this than meets the eye. From Marek to you to me to...”
“To what?” he prompted.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “For a second, I thought I had it, then it was gone.”
“’Twill come to you again,” he assured, certain of it. “’Twill come to both of us.”
Yet as the day wore on, whatever had happened, whatever they’d felt, seemed like it slipped further and further away. As though the answer may never come to them. But it would. So said the smile in Ciara's voice when she eventually murmured, “Tell me you’ve seen it at least once today because it’s flickered several times.”
“The ring then?” Overjoyed, he dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Truly?”
“Yes.” She smiled and met his eyes. “Why do you think you haven’t seen it yet?” Her s
mile faltered. “Or do you think maybe me seeing it is just wishful thinking? Because you haven’t seen it once, have you?”
“No, but I will.” Or so he prayed. Because she was his. “Mayhap, you’re just seeing it before me because you need more convincing.”
“More convincing?” she exclaimed and shook her head. “Definitely not.”
“Are you sure?” he said softly. “Because last I knew you were convinced there was a chance you wouldnae be with me after the curse lifted. That mayhap you were the enemy and Alyssa, my destined lass.”
“Alyssa,” she murmured, shaking her head. “My curse...my subconscious...”
When she trailed off, he knew she wondered at her changed perspective. How out of sync what she once believed was with everything now revealing itself.
“At least part of it,” she acknowledged, in answer to her own thoughts. “Alyssa could still easily fit into all this. Yes, Chloe recalled you going to confront a man she didn't trust in our first life together, and we even sensed it was a he at the Irish Stonehenge our first time back, but that doesn’t rule out a woman being involved.”
“Aye, but consider this,” he replied, having given the dynamics of the curse some thought, “would it not behoove evil’s influence on your subconscious to make a fellow Broun your ‘supposed' nemesis? For any dissent amongst you could be exploited.”
“True,” she replied.
“Not only that, but outside of Chloe, no lass, be she kin or friend, has been mentioned or appeared in our first life together,” he pointed out. “Nor, did it seem, was I ever in love with another. How could I be? ‘Twas only ever you, I wanted.” He shook his head, absolutely certain of one thing. “In fact, I know I wasnae in love with another. Couldnae be. ‘Twould have been impossible.”
“Why? How can you be so certain?” She frowned and faced forward. “You don’t know that, Ethyn.”
“But I do.” He tilted her chin until her eyes met his again. She needed to see in his gaze how strongly he felt. How true his words. “You were the only lass I ever loved with my whole heart, Ciara. With my whole being. ‘Twas true then...and ‘tis true now.”
A Scot's Favor (The MacLomain Series: End of an Era Book 4) Page 12
