Morrigan (17 page)

Morrigan was about to reach for the handle
when Tiarn grabbed her arm. “You cannot let her see you this way,
unless you plan to produce a screaming babe.” Morrigan had almost
forgotten about the disguise. She had never been much of a morning
person. “Get back into bed and cover up before you give us away. I
will answer the door.”

Morrigan nodded and pretended to sleep while
Tiarn exchanged a few more bronze rings for a day’s worth of meals
and another night’s stay. While she was happy for the reprieve from
their arborous journey, she worried about leaving her mother at
Arianrhod’s mercy. Then she realized Tiarn probably needed the
extra day’s rest even more than she did and was just too proud to
admit it. She didn’t argue, but she decided if she had to sacrifice
another day, she was going to take advantage of their time
together. One way or another, before they took up their journey,
she was going to find out the whole truth about her dark
knight.

She studied him as he exchanged pleasantries
with Brigid, looking for any lingering signs of his illness. He
seemed the picture of health. He had even taken the time to wash up
and shave. For the first time since they met, his face was
surprisingly free of dark scruff. It made him look even more
handsome, and she felt her heart flutter.

Tiarn gave her a toothy smile as he placed a
tray of eggs, flapjacks, and bacon down on their table along with a
pot of coffee. Morrigan was surprised to see that some things, like
the standard breakfast spread, appeared to be universal. Tiarn was
already digging in as she made her way over, but he had set aside a
generous portion for her. He was already almost finished; a few
pieces of eggs stuck to his chin as evidence. Morrigan was so
relieved to see him eating again that she had to smile.

“Feeling better, I see.”

“I feel wonderful!” he exclaimed through a
mouthful of bacon. “You are a powerful witch indeed to have been
blessed with such a healing touch.”

Morrigan blushed. “I think the medicine had a
little more to do with it than I did.”

“You sell yourself short.” He reached out a
hand to stroke her cheek. “I remember most of the evening,
Morrigan. You did not leave my side. The magic of your cooling
hands against my skin is a more powerful gift than divination or
control of the elements, for this magic was born of compassion. I
would never have expected such tenderness from the daughter of
Ceridwyn.”

His hand against her cheek had the opposite
outcome. She felt herself flush with warmth. She had to swallow
hard before she could speak. “Wouldn’t my mother want to heal the
man she chose to be my guide? You must be special for her to trust
you so much.”

“I am one of a million men in the service of
the queen and easily replaced. Most royalty would not have cared
for an injured lycan.”

Morrigan huffed, “Then most royalty would be
idiots. This princess knows a good guy when she sees one. You’re
worth saving, Tiarn, and I’m sure my mother would agree.”

Tiarn seemed unconvinced. “Perhaps,” he said.
“Or perhaps you are special.”

The way he was looking at her made her blush
again. Yet, it also left her confused. His eyes said one thing, but
just the day before he had clearly stated they could never be
together. Had he changed his mind? Could her precognitive dreams of
love finally be coming true?

Morrigan had to clear the lump from her
throat in order to swallow even a mouthful of her food. The
constant nervous fluttering in her stomach didn’t make for a strong
appetite. She picked at her meal and halfway through, she passed
her plate to Tiarn, who finished it off in a few heaping mouthfuls.
When they were done, they sat down on the deerskin rug in front of
the fire. After a few minutes of listening to the rain splashing
against the roof of the inn, Tiarn finally broke the awkward
silence.

He cleared his throat and sounded just as
nervous about their closeness as she felt. “I wish to thank you for
all you have done for me, Morrigan,” he said softly. “I have not
always been a gentleman where you are concerned, and yet you risked
much to care for me.”

Morrigan shrugged. “You don’t have to thank
me. It was my fault you got hurt. If I hadn’t brought out those
stupid cards—”

“We would have had to face the soldiers
eventually, one way or another,” Tiarn interrupted. “The battle was
inevitable. And perhaps I would have survived the wound without
you, but I certainly would not have been able to control the
beast.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” Morrigan
told him.

“No,” he shook his head sadly, “I have always
been weak. But with you by my side, I feel that it is possible for
me to become a better man.”

Morrigan couldn’t believe it when he leaned
down to kiss her. The embrace was not furious and demanding like
their first kiss had been. His lips were soft and gentle, and his
touch much smoother with his clean-shaven skin. He gently stroked
her hair and ran his fingers up and down her back. Her skin
prickled with gooseflesh as he explored every curve of her body.
His breathing was hot and heavy as his lips explored the nape of
her neck. When he finally pulled away, she was so breathless that
it was hard to speak.

“And what about . . . the law?” she said
through passion swollen lips. “I thought it was forbidden.”

“Damn the law!” he swore. “Damn Hecate. Damn
the counsel of witches and all those who stand in our way. If we
succeed in our mission, perhaps your mother will make allowances.
If not, I have committed far worse offenses in my life. Let them
put me in chains if they dare, but I can no longer fight my
feelings for you. Nor do I want to. As long as you wish to have me,
Morrigan, I am your humble servant.”

She smiled. Even though she knew her eyes
were misty with tears, she had never been as happy as she was in
that moment. “I was thinking more along the lines of a boyfriend
instead of a servant, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Morrigan wished that afternoon could have
gone on forever. They spent the better part of the day lounging in
front of the fire, just relaxing and enjoying each other’s company.
They had made a silent agreement not to speak of their quest for at
least a few hours. They didn’t talk much about anything. Instead,
they familiarized themselves with each other’s bodies. They did so
modestly. Never once did Tiarn attempt to sneak a hand beneath the
confines of her clothing. And though a part of her wished he would,
she was certainly too shy to say so. By the time the sun had set,
Morrigan knew every freckle, every laugh line, and every scar.
Again she couldn’t help but notice the large marks on his back
peeking out from the corners of his tunic, and she wondered where
they had come from.

After a while, she decided to change his
bandages again. She was relieved to see the angry swelling had
disappeared completely, to be replaced by a slight scab that ran
the length of his forearm. It hardly seemed in need of attention,
but she went through her cleansing ritual anyway and even managed
to force a few more antibiotics down this throat. It seemed strange
that the wound would heal so quickly. She said as much to Tiarn,
and he shrugged nonchalantly as he stoked the fire.

“Lycans heal much faster than humans,” he
explained. “As do witches, though I pray you never have cause to
prove my words true.”

Just as she was taping up the last of the
gauze, Brigid arrived again, this time bearing supper. Morrigan
couldn’t believe so much time had passed already. She barely even
felt hungry after their late breakfast, but Tiarn tore greedily
into the meal, gnawing at the large turkey leg and shoving spoonful
after spoonful of vegetables into his mouth even as he swore that
lycans preferred to eat only red meat. Morrigan rolled her eyes at
him.

“You should slow down there, wolf man,” she
teased. “You’re getting over a serious infection. I don’t know how
you can eat like that after you were so sick yesterday.”

Tiarn ignored her advice and continued to
gorge on his turkey, even while he eyed up the dessert of fresh
apple pie. “Nonsense! I must have proper sustenance if I am to have
the strength to continue our travels.”

Morrigan laughed, thinking that men of all
worlds seemed to think the same way. She ate a much smaller portion
of the meal. When they were finished, they cleaned up and put the
used clayware outside the door so there would be no reason for
Brigid to disturb them again. Tiarn sat back down in front of the
fire and gestured for her to join him. It was getting chilly in the
room, so both the warmth of the flames and his arms were a welcome
indulgence. Seemingly unsatisfied with his large meal, he proceeded
to nibble on the nape of her neck. It sent shivers up her spine.
She ran her fingers along his arms and noticed a particularly long
scar hiding underneath the thick, dark hair. It reminded her she
had made a vow to learn the whole truth about her
would-be-boyfriend.

“Tiarn,” she whispered as he continued to
kiss her neck, “can we talk?”

“What do you wish to know? More questions of
wars and witches? I will do my best to quench your curiosity, but
might it not wait for another time?”

He tried to kiss her again, but she pulled
away. He looked so hurt that she took his hand to try to assure him
that things were okay between them. She needed answers, and she had
no idea when they would have this kind of peace and solitude
again.

“Tiarn, you said some things last night—”

He immediately cast down his eyes. “Princess,
I was delirious from fever. You cannot chastise me for words
uttered in sickness.”

“No, it’s not like that. I’m not angry with
you. You didn’t do or say anything to hurt me. But you. . . .” She
hesitated. “You mentioned a child. A child that had died.”

He pulled his hand away. “I do not speak of
that day.”

“I know it must be painful, but if we’re
going to be together, we need to accept one another completely—the
good and the bad.”

Tiarn snorted, his good mood lost in an
instant. “And what do you know of good and evil, Princess? You do
not even know who you are.”

Morrigan was a little hurt by the rebuke. “I
may have just learned who my parents are. But I have always known
who I am. DNA doesn’t change the person I am on the inside.”

“You are right,” Tiarn apologized. He lifted
her hand to his lips and kissed every digit. “I did not mean to
deal harshly with you. It is just that it is not easy for me to
speak of the horrors that befell me that day.”

“Tiarn, you claim I helped to heal you last
night,” she said as she pulled him close. “If that’s true, then let
me help to heal this pain that haunts you. I promise I won’t judge
you. I just want to help you.”

He nodded, but looked forlorn. “Very well,
Princess. I only pray you still feel the same after you have
learned the truth. It is a monster whom you have welcomed into the
circle of your arms.” He sighed and stared into the fireplace. “It
was just over two years ago. A beautiful day that hid any
foreboding premonitions with its sunny and cloudless sky. I was
travelling in the company of a band of gypsies. They have always
been less judgmental of my kind, perhaps because they are
considered outcasts of society themselves. After my parents moved
on from this world, the gypsies became my family.

“In our travels, we came upon a small
village, very much like this one. We intended to stay on for a few
weeks so we could stock up on supplies. The women would earn coins
dancing and telling fortunes while the men worked odd jobs. While
we were there, my closest friend became smitten with the maiden
daughter of the town mayor, who also happened to be betrothed to
the local judge. They could not sway her interest, and she even
talked of joining us when we moved on to the next town. Her father
was furious his well-laid plans were suddenly being upheaved. So he
accused my friend of theft and with the help of the judge, had him
tried and convicted. The punishment for his conviction was to lose
a hand.”

He sighed. “He was my friend, and he was
being persecuted for nothing but loving the wrong woman. Of course
the other gypsies were furious as well, but the town’s people far
outnumbered them. In my mortal form, I could only stand by
helplessly while they mutilated him. So I took on my wolf form,
transforming right in front of the villagers. I had no intention of
harming them. I planned only to distract them. As I had guessed
they would, the men instantly flew from the stocks, intent on
killing me. This left the other gypsies free to release my friend
from his bondage and flee.

“After this point, things become unclear in
my mind. It is much easier to allow the change, than to call the
beast back. The longer I am in wolf form, the less humanity I
retain. I become an animal with no conscience and no remorse. Once
released, the wolf demands the freedom of the wild. It wants to run
free, howl at the moons, and . . . feed.” He shuddered. “As the
pure, unhindered animal form took control, my human consciousness
must have slipped away. One moment, I was running through the
underbrush, enjoying the wind in my fur. The next I knew, I was
once again a man, lying naked on the edge of the town. My hands
were covered in blood, and beside me . . . beside me lay the
boy.”

His voice broke. There was no hint of his
normal sarcasm and arrogance. He presented to her his raw, broken
heart just as she had requested. Yet he did not weep. It seemed he
wouldn’t allow himself the comfort of tears. Only when she held him
close, wrapping her arms around him, did he finally release the
emotion he had repressed for so long. His body shook with sobs.

“I swear, Morrigan, I do not remember. I do
not know how it happened. I would never, in my right mind, harm
anyone, least of all a child. Perhaps he was too close to a chicken
or the wolf mistook him for a lamb it was tracking. But my musings
are meaningless. There are no excuses for what I have done. The
boy-child is dead at my hands . . . dead by the fangs of the beast
within me.”