Enchanted Moon (Moon Magick Book II) (9 page)

Chapter Nine

The blue orb didn’t merely glow among the trees. It
pulsed as it floated forward, just out of Ailyn’s reach. It whispered to her, but
she could not comprehend the words. They were in a tongue she did not know;
yet, she felt the meaning was critical.

A matter of death itself.

If she could only reach her fingers out just a bit
further, she could grasp the light and pull it close. Tuck it away and keep it
safe. Safe from whom, she didna know. But the orb escaped her reach and the
faint murmur that emanated from it, that begged her attention, became a
thudding. Deeper, louder. The wind whipped her hair into her eyes. The trees
bent under the force of it. The thudding became a pound. The orb vanished.

“No!” Ailyn gasped. She’d come so close!

The pounding penetrated her dream, drawing her back to
reality. She forced her eyes open despite the stabbing pain in them. The room
tilted.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” a woman said, exasperation
in her loud voice.

The stabbing pain moved to her temples. Ailyn rubbed
them, trying to locate the woman and recall where she was. The room was small
and sparsely furnished. The crackle of a fire explained how warm her back was.
Too warm. Sweaty. She rolled onto it, scooting away from the hearth, though it
wasna as close as she first thought.

A creaking sounded as the woman opened a door. Men’s
voices filtered into the room. Again, it tilted as Ailyn tried to sit. Then it
righted, and her eyes landed on a familiar, handsome face. The clean-shaven jaw
made him look younger, boyish, and a bit less disarming than before. She was
grateful for as much, because she found herself gawking until memory rushed
back.

“Quinlan,” she said, sitting up fully and looking
around. It all came back to her. “Where is Maera?”

Quinlan didn’t hear her, though, or mayhap chose to
ignore her, instead leaning against a wall in amusement. She followed his
attention to the woman…Breanne. The healer. She would know where Maera was.
She’d cared for Maera and cared for Ailyn as well. Even Colm.

Oh, by Morrigan! Colm! She glanced about, looking for
signs of her brother-turned-wolf. Nothing. What would tell her he was here,
though, and not part of the dream? What a strange dream! What did it mean? So
real her fingers seemed to tingle from the closeness she’d reached—

“You’ve no reason to be cross, Ash. The baby is active
and happy. As am I.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re free to traipse across the
countryside.”

Breanne crossed her arms under her ample bosom,
meeting her husband glare for glare. Alarm shot through Ailyn. What was she
about to need escaping from?

“When will you accept the fact that I’m not one of
your fair English lasses, incapable of hard work?”

Quinlan glanced Ailyn’s way. “Were you hard work,
lass?”

Breanne stepped between them, hands on hips. “She
wasna, and you know it, Quin. Dinna be making matters worse here.”

Ailyn got to her feet, only to lean against a wall
herself. Where was her bow? Her blade? Whatever potage Breanne had given her
last night was having lingering effects. Certainly, ill intentions were afoot.
The fire so hot. The pain in her temples so sharp.

Ashlon, a handsome man in his own right with his dark,
wavy hair and pale eyes, nigh barked at his wife. “I traveled all night to be
greeted by my wife—home and safe. Instead, I have to hunt her down, only
to discover she’s halfway to Giant’s Causeway.”

“Ash, you fash yourself for naught. I’m hale and
hearty. As is the baby. Would you tell him, Quin?”

“Aye, hale. Hearty. Why, I doubt even a thunderstorm
would stop this one.”

“Quinlan,” Breanne warned.

Quinlan silently threw up his hands, but his
mischievous grin spoke for him. Why had Ailyn trusted these mortals? Husband
and wife looked ready to murder each other. Quinlan merely watched,
entertained. Clearly they meant to harm…er, well, perhaps harm wasna the best
word. She reassessed Ashlon. Aye, he was furious. But there was a warmth to his
expression. Breanne’s hard stare returned the warmth. Then she reached over and
pinched Quinlan, making him yelp.

Ailyn jerked at the noise, gasping. All eyes drew to
her. Her alarm renewed. They’d recalled she was in the room. If only it would
stop tilting.

“Ailyn, love,” Breanne said. “You canno’ be standing
quite yet. Here, Quinlan, help her to the chair. Ashlon, dinna just stand
there.”

In quick succession, she was guided to a chair and sat
into it. A bowl of some sort of broth was shoved into her hands, along with a
chunk of bread.

“You brought food?” Quinlan asked Breanne, who looked
rather pleased. Until he added, “And it survived the rain?”

Her smile fell to a scowl.

“Do not tell me you rode here in a rainstorm,
Breanne.”

“Rode?” Quinlan asked, delight dancing in his tone.

Ailyn would grin, too, so infectious was his humor,
but nausea was sending a new sheen of sweat across her back and brow. “Where is
Maera?”

“Is this what I am to expect every time I come home,
wife? Yet another tale of your putting yourself at risk?”

Breanne gently moved the bowl up toward Ailyn’s mouth.
“Maera is well. Dinna fret. You’ve had quite a bit to tax you. Eat. There will
be plenty of time to ex—”

“Breanne,” Ashlon said.

“And forgive my boorish husband his manners. He must
have forgotten them in his travels.”

“Oh, aye, wife. Postpone my demands while you can. The
list will only grow.”

That must have been quite enough. Breanne shot to her
feet and stabbed a finger at the door. The couple exited, slamming the door
shut after.

The broth helped tremendously. She sipped its salty
warmth, growing ever more aware of Quinlan’s eyes on her. At last she dared a
glance up. “You shaved,” she said.

He rubbed his jaw. “Aye. D’you like it?”

She did, but thought better of revealing as much. She
shrugged, appraising him a moment. “You look…younger.”

He didn’t seem to like that a bit; his smile left his
eyes. “Aye, just a boy, I am. Only set off my strings last week, in fact.”

Quinlan reached for her bread and tugged a piece off
for himself. She got the feeling he was putting on a performance of sorts. But
for whom? Certainly not for her. Where was the rigid man who’d come to her aid
last night?

Interesting. She cocked her head. “Your strings?”

Another degree of his pretense lowered. “You aren’t
Irish, are you?” he said. “Your accent, your hair, even your friend.” He didn’t
seem to really be asking her so much as summing up his accounting of her.
“Definitely not born or bred in Ulster.” His gaze scanned her face and stature.
“Where, then?”

Ailyn pursed her lips. She’d not be telling him the
truth, but she knew too little of his world to lie well. “Where is Maera?”

He nodded slightly. “No matter. Your origins are none
of my concern. I’m only here because Breanne’s husband insisted.”

“You don’t smack of a man who is so easily pushed around.”

He grinned at that. “Breanne will be the only one who
can answer your questions, I’m afraid. The more I recall from last night, the
less I’m sure of about it.”

Ailyn didn’t like craning her neck to see him, but
felt to wobbly to stand yet. She strained to hear signs of Breanne returning,
but not even muffled voices reached her ears. “She would not just leave, would
she?”

Quinlan frowned, pushing his lips out a bit, showing
their fullness and making her think he must be an excellent kisser, if mortals
did such things. Why would the goddess give them such lips if not for kissing,
though? She caught the track of thought and stamped it out before it could lead
her far. Even a mild curiosity about Quinlan or his world was far too dangerous
to entertain.

Not even for a moment.

She would locate Maera and Colm, and together they
would return through the veil. If Maera knew it would appear, certainly she
would know how and why it did. Certainly she could replicate as much and get
them home.

“Where is your wolf?”

 
Her wolf.
Oh, if only he knew just how accurate his quip was. Her brother once again
confounded her. Yet again, he’d kept her on the outside of his world until it
was too late. Only this time, it wasn’t a tree he’d climbed too high for her to
fetch him out of. She had no inkling how to fetch him out of this mess, now how
he’d gotten into it. She could hardly guess what the mess was to begin with,
save that her future queen had abandoned her people and brought a wolf with her
to do so.

Perhaps Maera had thought he could protect her in this
world as a wolf. No, Colm could do far better as a man than a beast. Unless
Maera needed him disguised. But why?

“Whatever it is, Ailyn, you’ll not be able to think
your way out of it.”

“What was that?” she asked, her attention back in the
room.

Quinlan’s expression gave away the man she’d met last
night. One wiser than his young face revealed. “You were lost in thought.
Ruminating. A sage old man once told me that whatever the situation, whatever
hole you ever find yourself in, thinking will not climb you out.”

She frowned, wishing she felt better and could
physically seek her brother out. His statement piqued her interest, though.
“What climbs you out?”

“Action,” he said simply, and did a spin. When he
stopped, her dagger lay in his hand..

Unable to ignore his winsome smile, Ailyn took the
blade, returning it to its strap. Her belly flip-flopped. More and more she
grew wary of this dichotomy in him—serious one moment, utterly disarming
the next. She did not want to find any mortal engaging. If she were a hunter,
she would use all to her avail to seduce and stalk her prey.

Surely that is what Quinlan did now. Or did he show
these two sides to everyone?

A small voice spoke one piece of logic to her,
though—if these mortals knew what she was and wished to kill her, they’d
had ample opportunity. Which meant they had no idea she was not as human as
they. Which meant she must keep the fact secret. Her life depended on it, and
it would be easy enough. For the first time since she’d laid eyes on Maera and
had reached out to touch her beautiful wings, Ailyn was grateful to have been
born of brown blood. Ailyn had little magick left in her bloodline, and enough
generations that wings had long ago become moot. Only rarely was a brown-blood
born winged. Maera though, while her white bloodline’s magick waned, too, it
had only done so within two or three generations.

There was great hope among her people still that the
bloodline, given the right pairing, would return to its original glory. A
magick so deep, pure, and strong as to protect the Fae realm and any of its
ancestors. Much hung in the balance over whom Maera married. Every seer known
to any of the four tribes was sent to foretell her true, best match.

None had. Yet. All still hoped, though. Even Ailyn
hoped.

“Off again?”

Warmth spread over her cheeks. “Aye,” she admitted.
“Breanne gave me a dram, and I’m finding its effects rather unsettling.”
Admitting as much shouldn’t put her at risk, what with him assuming her human.

“I’ll not let my pride be pricked, then. It’s not
often that I bore someone, especially a lovely lass such as yourself. I suppose
it was bound to happen eventually.”

Had she offended him? My, but he thought highly of
himself! Remembering that she was currently at his mercy, though, she bit back
a witty retort about the kind of lady he must surround himself with. “Truly,
the potage put me into a deep sleep, and I’m groggy.”

He laughed, holding up a hand. “I’m teasing you,
Ailyn. Dinna fret. In fact, I’ll happily harass Breanne into sharing what she’s
done with your friend and the wolf.”

Ailyn sagged a bit in the chair from her relief as he
left her. The hard thud of the door recalled her dream. The orb had felt so
real. Even now awake, she could vividly remember its feel, the sound of it. The
urgency it had inspired in her.

“Bad news, lass,” Quinlan announced, returning to sit
next to her and lean on his knees.

He must have practiced such postures through all his
teen years, because it had a very specific effect. His chin tucked, his
eyebrows up, and his wide shoulders were accentuated somehow. Ailyn forced
herself not to simply drink in his comeliness. When her eyes locked with his,
for at least a full three seconds, she lost the ability to think.

“Bad?” she managed to say, flustered over her reaction
to him. She’d not behaved toward him so last eve. Perhaps it was the effects of
the concoction Breanne had given her. Aye, that must be the answer. “News?”

He nodded in a mock solemn fashion. “It appears
Breanne’s husband made off with her.” He continued to nod, his eyes scanning
her face. “And took both horses.”