Enchanted Moon (Moon Magick Book II) (7 page)

Her
eyes shot open. The deep green orbs struggled to focus on Ailyn’s face. “Is he
gone?”

“Who?”
Kristoph? Quinlan?

Maera
closed her eyes a moment. Her hand reached for Ailyn. She took it. Maera’s
cold, trembling hold hearkened the memory again. Ailyn’s throat constricted. As
though Kristoph held her by it, the cold stone wall barring escape, his breath
too sweet-smelling, his face so close to hers.

You are mine.
His words yet echoed
.

His
hands had roved her face, down her throat, a finger pausing to feel the
heartbeat at her jugular.

“Mine,”
he’d said, tapping her pulse.

Her
brown-blooded skills couldn’t unravel the magick he’d bound her unmovable with.
She could not scream. She could not even whimper.

Maera
squeezed her hand, bringing Ailyn back to the present.

“Ailyn,”
she said, worry in her tone. She glanced about. “Oh no, Ailyn! You followed me.
Don’t you understand? You cannot be here!”

“Too
late, Maera. I am here. And you’re hurt.”

Maera’s
hands went to her stomach. “How badly? Is there blood?”

“Aye.
Blood aplenty, but how badly I dinna ken.” Frustration with her princess
climbed up her ribs. “The man who saved you will return with a healer. Your
wings, Maera. They’re torn, possibly broken.”

Maera
shook her head, vehement. “My wings dinna matter. You must leave, Ailyn. You
must return through the veil.”

“Not
without you.” The veil was gone. Ailyn shook her head. “I’ll not leave your
side again. Twice this night, I’ve done so and regretted it. Whatever it is
you’re after here, surely your kingdom canno’ be worth such risk.”

“Do
you think I’d have done this had I any other choice? I am here because my
kingdom is worth my very life. More than my life.” She tried to sit up, winced
with the effort then lay back down with a groan. She ran her hands over her face
and sighed. “Ailyn, as your liege, I order you. Leave here. At once.”

Ailyn
stood, anger ebbing up her chest, warming her cheeks. She placed her hands on
her hips and stared Maera down. “Or what?” she asked.

Chapter Six

For almost an hour, Quinlan had sat crouched in the
cold wetness, his teeth a-chatter, when a faint glow in the distance sent his
neck hairs standing. He shifted his weight, squinting into the darkness.

The faint glimmer of light drew nearer.

Ailyn? Had she tried to follow? How could she keep a
flame lit in this deluge? Och, curses. ’
Twasn’t
Ailyn
at all. Long before her wide belly came into view or her pale, sodden curls
caught the candle’s light to confirm his suspicions, Quinlan knew in his bones
that Breanne had come for him.

“Ho, there!” he called, hurrying out to meet her and
guide her to his pitiful shelter. Daft females! “Breanne.”

“Quin? Oh, blessed be! I was beginning to fear my
vision was a dream after all, and for naught; or worse, that I’d come too
late.”

“Too late?” He took her by the elbow, resisting the
urge to shake her arm. “What fool errand could be worth risking the babe for?
I’m doubting yer husband would approve of you venturing into a storm.”

“I take offense to that. Ashlon knows better than to
keep me like a pet, Quinlan. You’ll mind the same, should you ever lose your
heart to a strong-minded woman. Mark my words.” She brushed off his help and
neatly bypassed the tree that was his shelter.

“Ah, he isna home. Is he?”

She jutted her chin higher. “Not important. What is
important is that we get back to Heremon’s at once. That is where you’ve come
from, is it not?”

He shook his head. He’d long ago learned that when it
came to Breanne, there was only so much explanation, and simple acceptance went
a long way for his own equanimity. “Breanne, the storm hasna let up. We’ll be
waiting it out.”

She shook her head, handing him the candle, which
immediately went out. “We canno’ wait. She needs my help, Quin. Or she’ll die.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, with enough
emotion that he wondered what else could be at stake. Breanne dug in a satchel
slung over her shoulder. She retrieved two blankets. “These will help. The
storm will pass. We’ll be fireside afore you know it.”

Nearly dropping the tallow, Quinlan caught the blanket
she tossed at him and stared at her a moment, shaking his head. If she’d had a
vision clear enough to find him, one that foretold of the woman who needed her,
he’d have to trust she also knew they’d arrive safely.

“How far did you see, Breanne? Tell me you’ll be safe.
And your babe.”

He got a shake of her beautiful head in answer. Blast!
“So you think I’d risk my child for a stranger’s life, do you, Quin?”

He shook out the blanket and covered his head and
shoulders with it. “Nay, I suppose you wouldn’t. Your husband would happily
kill me otherwise.”

“Dinna believe such a thing, Quinlan. Ashlon would
merely beat you to a pulp. I warn you, though. I’ll see this through, no matter
if you join me. Let us waste less time and argue the matter as we walk, hmm?”

“Argue the matter later? After I’ve compromised your
health and safety? Oh, I’m certain yer husband will most appreciate my
cooperation then.”

“I told you. Ashlon knows better. He wouldna fight my
coming here.”

“Aye, but he’d not let you trek through a storm
alone.”

Breanne notched her chin up again in that stubborn way
of hers, regarding him a moment in the dark. “The rain is letting up,” she
said, her eyes twinkling with humor. “Far more is at stake than my child’s
life, Quinlan. Aye, my husband will likely skin me over leaving tonight. If he
finds out and if I’m to be skinned, I’ll be making it worth it. You’re either
coming with me now or not.”

Short of tossing her rounded form over one shoulder
and dragging her home, Quinlan saw little recourse. The least he could do was
stay by her side and keep her safe. Ashlon wouldna be thanking him for it, what
with Quinlan’s previous romantic notions for Breanne being no secret between
them.
 
“I’ll take you to her. But
you’ll be telling me why, how, and all else along the way. Agreed?”

A wide smile broke over her face, revealing one dimple
and a heart-stopping smile. “Aye. Agreed in tens, Quin.” She set off, calling
over her shoulder, “Oh, and I’m to tell you that you’ll soon be an uncle
again.”

Again? He caught up with her quick pace. The rain
became a drizzle, and a hint of dawn colored the horizon between slender boughs
of birch and ash. “What’s this? Dinna tell me Rose has herself with another
bairn
.
Gah
! Does that man of hers
ever leave her be?”

His sister might as well be Breanne’s own sister, too;
they were so close.

Breanne’s easy grin as they walked made the night’s
strange events feel far away. Nigh surreal, truth be told. She chuckled,
raindrops hitting her forehead and nose. “You’ll not want to be hearing that
it’s yer sister who canno’ leave her husband be.”

He swiped a hand over his face, raking his damp locks.
“Nay, the image will scald my mind and drive me to madness.”

Thunder echoed softly in the distance as the storm
retreated beat by beat until naught was left but dawn’s light easing higher on
the horizon, lighting the wet leaves and grass.

Breanne smiled warmly his way, taking his hand a
moment and giving it a quick squeeze. Someday, that squeeze would not break his
heart a little. She belonged to another, and while he’d long ago accepted they
were not meant to be, the heart from his youth missed the idea. She’d done
well. Ashlon was a man he well and truly admired and would do naught to
dishonor. Quinlan pulled his hand away and made a fist in the blanket she’d
given him instead. The air smelled of wet earth and heather and autumn. Aye,
sweet autumn.

Quinlan wiped a hand through his wet hair as they
headed back the way he’d come. His thoughts muddled. His bones ached. He’d like
little more than a steaming bath and the nearest pile of straw.

Breanne’s face turned serious as they rounded a low
hill. “Once we’re inside, Quin, I’ll need you to act as though you already
know.”

“Know what?” They were getting close to Heremon’s.

She shook her head. “The dream wasna clear. I only
know down in my belly that if you speak out against anything I say, bad things
could happen.”

“Breanne, bad things already happened.”

She stopped short. “What does that mean?”

He kept his pace, regretting his loose tongue. “I merely
suspect your vision and my night together will tell a story,” he called back to
her. She wouldn’t be tolerating evasive answers. But now was not the time. And
other answers were in short supply. “Your visions will probably tell you all
you need.”

She chased to catch up with him. “My gifts dinna work
that way, Quin.” She punched his bicep. “You sound worse than my own husband,
you do.”

“Aye, and a wise man you married,” he teased. “What
use are gifts if you canno’ control them?”

Och, that hit a nerve. Pregnancy made a woman react in
the extreme. Suffering the same from his own six-times-blessed sister helped
him see as much.

“Off with you, then.” She glared at him for several
seconds, huffed, and turned on her heel dismissively. Her cloak billowed with each
step, snagging here and there along the pathway until she yanked it free.

He’d never claim to understand her gifts or the Druid
ways she studied for so many years now, but certainly she had some measure of
control over her presages. “Breanne, you’ll tear your cloak if you keep
trouncing away as you are.”

True enough, too. Every time she had to pause and
yank, Quinlan’s mood brightened just a wee bit. A nice fit was what she was
working herself into. “And we both know I’ll not be leaving you, Breanne.”

He caught up with her as Heremon’s old home came into
view.

“You’re feeling downright feisty, Quin. Does this mean
I have to bar you and your horse’s arse from the room, or will you do as I
said?”

“I’ll shut my mouth and play along. But only because
you’ve asked so nicely. Just tell me what it is to do, and I’ll be doing it.”

He glimpsed a tiny crack of a grin under her deep
frown and knew he’d made amends. And just in time. They were at Heremon’s door.
Breanne only paused for a breath before nodding to him.

Quinlan rapped his fist on the thick wood door. When
no quick opening occurred, his stomach tightened. He’d not checked Ailyn for
injuries. He’d felt sure she’d stay put. Mostly sure. Why wasn’t she answering?
Breanne’s brow knitted. Her hands went to her belly.

“What is it? Are you well?” Quinlan asked and pounded
on the door again, harder.

Breanne nodded. “Aye.”

But she looked ashen, and her gaze wavered. She shut
her eyes a moment, her lips parting as she exhaled. When she opened her eyes,
she nodded again. “Try through the rear,” she said. “Or the window there.”

“Is the babe coming?”

She shook her head, held her belly and braced one arm
on the doorframe. “Hurry.”

Quinlan did, fighting back keen frustration over
Breanne’s ability to go from teasing him one moment, and then to dire
seriousness the next. He got to the back of the small home and tried the door.
“God’s teeth!” Of course, the narrow rear door would sit unlatched. But were
both women inside?

And were they safe?

“Ailyn?” he called, weaving through the happenstance
layout of the small rooms.

A murmur came to his ears. He reached the hearth room
where—Maera, was it?—stirred, trying to sit up.

The tightening in his gut shot up to his head. He
unlatched the front door to let Breanne in, whose color had returned,
brightening her cheeks to pink. She looked for all purposes that she’d just
entered her own home in time to sup.

Maera scooted back, though, her eyes darting from
Quinlan to Breanne, wary.

“You’ve no cause for alarm,” he said.

Breanne approached her, palms open. “I’m a healer.
I’ve come to help. May I?”

“Where’s Ailyn?” Quinlan asked, though deep down he
knew the answer.

“Gone,” Maera said, nodding to Breanne, who knelt next
to her and began feeling her face, arms, and belly.

“I canno’ believe she abandoned you,” Quinlan said,
more to himself than to Maera.

“She did not abandon me.” Maera winced under Breanne’s
touch. “I bade her to go.”

“Bade her?” Who was she to be sending her friend away?
The cliffs. The wolf. The storm could return.

“Do you ken how distraught she was for your safety?”

Guilt flashed over the woman’s face. She ignored
Quinlan, focusing on Breanne, who was glaring at him meaningfully.
Aye, shut it,
her eyes were telling him.
Shut it as she’d asked. He’d not known just how difficult a matter it would be
when he agreed, though.

“You have every right to your doubts, Your Highness,”
Breanne said softly, hands steady above the woman’s belly.

Your Highness? Rights to doubt? Oh, that was too much
for a man to keep his mouth shut over. But Breanne shot him another warning
glance as he opened his mouth. Fed up, Quinlan snapped it closed and strode out
the door. The morning light was piercing the storm clouds, sending the rain
away. Quinlan scrubbed a hand over his face.

Where had Maera bade Ailyn to go? Why do such a fool
thing?

Bah! He had no business caring about the lass or
questioning about the one inside with Breanne. He’d known both for mere hours.

He’d been given a task and completed it. He should
focus on what to tell his king, and how many details to share. Some were
critical to relate to Niall O’Donnell. The cattle, the rite. Others might have
him laughed out of the
túath
. Not every man believed the old
ways now that Patrick’s Christ held many Irish hearts. He’d feel far better knowing
that the lass was safe, though. Mayhap he should search for signs of where
she’d gone. Mayhap, he should—

He should mind his own affairs. Bringing Breanne here
completed his sense of duty. Should she need further help, he’d give it, but
Ailyn and her friend were hers to attend to now. He couldn’t stop himself from
scanning the tree line for her shadow, though, or from sending a prayer for the
firebrand’s safe passage to wherever her journey next took her.

~

Ailyn’s hands shook.
Fine
, Maera had acquiesced after much argument.
If you won’t leave
,
find the wolf.

Color seeped through the sky as the sun’s bright rays
eased up the horizon. Droplets from the rain lit from within. Birds sang.
Critters scampered. Yet Ailyn heard no whisper of enchantment at all. It was
true, then. Man had no magick left. And the Fae had so little.

How did one attract a wolf? Ailyn focused on each
step, careful of the slippery path where moss and mud could lead her to a sharp
fall straight onto her arse. Maera’s shoes fit a bit loose, but their fine
soles soothed her skin.