“But I’m not a full Éan. I can never be one.”
“Because you have no secondary gift? Nonsense. I am sorry the only children you can ever beget will be entirely human, but I assure you humans have been very happy with such for as long as our races have walked the earth.”
“I am a poor warrior.”
“You can be taught,” Barr said grudgingly, clearly not ready to completely dismiss Lais’s actions, no matter the confused beliefs that prompted them.
“Would you allow me to go to the Éan?” Lais asked his laird, cautious hope lacing his quiet voice.
“If I am convinced it is in your best interests, aye.”
That seemed to stun Lais. “You would care?”
“Naturally. You are a member of my clan.”
“But I tried to kill you.”
“Did you? I have seen you hunt; I have heard the stories from your proud family. You are better than my other Chrechte warriors. And your accuracy with the bow is even better than Connor’s. It makes me wonder why Rowland did not enlist your aid in his challenge with Earc.”
“He tried.”
“You refused.”
Lais drew himself up. “I am no murderer.” A stricken look came over his face. “I tried to be.”
“Nay. If you had tried, you would have done at least some damage. The truth is, you are no murderer, but Rowland was.”
“Do you really think he was the one who killed my father?”
“He or one who had his approval to do the deed.”
Lais swallowed and nodded. “I hated the ravens because it was easier than hating him.”
“Safer, too.”
“I’m ashamed to say it, but yes.”
Barr would undo Rowland’s legacy of hatred and deceit strand by strand and Sabrine could not help loving him even more for it.
You are the most amazing man and Chrechte I have ever had the honor to know,
she sent to him via their sacred bond.
Barr’s sudden, dazzling smile must have confused Lais because he started babbling apologies again, for trying to hurt them.
“If you had been really trying, you would have hit one of us the day you shot your bow.”
Lais shook his head. “I
tried
.”
“Nay. If you’d had a killing shot in mind, even my wolf’s instincts could not have saved us from at least a grazing of one of those arrows.”
A look of dawning understanding and wonder came over Lais’s features, but then he sighed and went all stoic. “I do not deserve your mercy.”
Men
. A woman knew when to take a gift when it was offered, especially when that gift meant keeping her life.
“I do not agree.” Barr’s tone said that his opinion was the one that counted.
Sabrine did not fool herself into believing it was because he was acting laird, either. The man was simply too certain of his own opinions.
And right now? She really did not think he had cause to doubt himself.
T
he next day, Lais shifted to his eagle and rode on Barr’s shoulder. A smaller man could not have managed, but Barr was no average warrior and had no problem riding every bit as swiftly with the large bird of prey perched on one shoulder and his mate in his lap. He had insisted on holding her, as if he could physically protect her from harm with his body.
And no doubt, he could.
The giant beast of a horse seemed not to notice the additional burden, either, and they reached the caves at the sacred springs an hour after night had fallen.
B
arr was relieved when his mate showed no hesitation in leading him and Lais to the secret chamber of the Éan deep in the labyrinth of caves beyond the sacred springs.
The sound of chanting reached his wolf’s hearing before his mate’s steps faltered in realization they were not alone. But she did not stop.
She quickened her steps, clearly intent on reaching the cave before the ritual was complete. She was running by the time they reached the giant cavern lit by several torches with a stone dais in the center and two pools fed by the underground springs on either side of it.
An old woman, who bore a striking resemblance to Sabrine, wore a cloak of raven feathers and spoke ancient Chrechte over a boy on the cusp of maturity. It must be Anya-Gra, Sabrine’s grandmother and the one who had prophesied the help of the Faol in the Éan’s fight for survival.
Two large men came forward, barring their way with weapons drawn. Sabrine ignored them, rushing between them, narrowly missing their reaching hands with a smooth twist of her body. To join her, Barr could see he would have to draw his own sword and he was not ready to do that.
He crossed his arms and gave each warrior a look that told them he neither feared nor intended to cause trouble.
Dismissing them, he watched as Sabrine ran to the still-chanting priestess and practically threw the
Clach Gealach Gra
into her hands. A strange blue light pulsed around them as both hands rested on the stone.
Then Sabrine stepped back and bowed her head.
“Sabrine-Gra Gealach, raven princess, return your hands to the
Clach Gealach Gra
.”
His mate’s confusion reached him across their link.
Have courage, sweeting. Do as your priestess requires
.
She is my grandmother
.
Even more reason to obey
. His wolf was laughing and so was he, though he was careful to keep it to their mind-link.
You are arrogant
.
And you are indeed a princess; now act like it
.
This time she did not deny it. She returned her hands to the now-white-glowing crystal. Blue light once again began to emanate from the sacred stone.
“Taran-Gra Gealach, lay your hands on the crystal.”
The youth—this had to be Sabrine’s brother, whom she had sacrificed so much for—did as he was told, showing only slight hesitation as his fingertips brushed his sister’s.
The light flared purple and a strange hum filled the cavern, the air pulsing with Chrechte power as Barr had never known it.
The boy shimmered, red flaring around him and then he was no longer a boy, but a raven. He let out a harsh caw, his head tilted back, his wings expanded and then the light shone around him again and the raven disappeared to be replaced by one of the ancient ones. Gasps sounded around the cavern, but Barr was too taken aback to make even that noise.
A dragon, its scales so dark a scarlet they were almost black, drew its head back and trumpeted in victory before breathing a stream of fire toward the ceiling.
Everyone in the cavern fell back in mingled awe and fear, their scents giving away their feelings even if their actions had not. Except Sabrine. His warrior princess reached out to actually
touch
the magical creature.
The dragon dropped his head and butted Sabrine with his snout. She laughed out loud. “My brother, you will be the king that saves our people.”
“With his allies, the Faol who have learned to respect all life and live among the humans as their protectors.” The old woman’s voice resonated in the cavern, going through Barr like a second, more powerful heartbeat inside his body. “Taran-Gra Gealach will lead the Éan to a new day for our people.”
As quickly as he had taken on the form of a raven and then a dragon the youth was once again in the form of a human. He dropped to his knees and bowed, giving thanks in ancient Chrechte to the Creator of all things. Then he stepped into the pool on the right of the dais, submerging entirely and then standing with a triumphant shout.
His coming of age rite of passage was complete.
“There is a broken one among us,” the priestess intoned in that power-pulsing voice. “An eagle whose soul carries the guilt and pain of false beliefs that have torn at his heart.”
Lais looked in panic at Barr.
“Do not fear. This is a good place and she cares for all Éan.” He knew he spoke the truth, though he’d never met Anya-Gra or even known of her existence before this trip.
Lais nodded and turned, stepping forward as if mesmerized.
The guards had fallen back like all the others when Taran had taken his dragon form. But they stepped forward now, as if to prevent Lais from approaching the priestess. And then, they moved aside as if under direct command, though Barr had heard no word spoken.
“Place your hands on the
Clach Gealach Gra
, young Lais.”
“How do you know me?” he asked with awestruck tones.
The old woman smiled, compassion showing in eyes the same color as her granddaughter’s and filled with an ancient wisdom Barr could not but admire. “The Creator knows all and I do his bidding.”
Without speaking again to Lais, she instructed both her grandchildren to lay hands on the crystal as well. “Ravens will heal the heart that has spent too long reviling them.”
Lais let out a sob but did as he had been told.
At first the color around them was almost black, but as time wore on it got lighter and lighter until all that remained was a pale yellow. The color of the sun.
“My hands are hot,” Lais said in trepidation mixed with hope.
“Mate of my granddaughter, come here,” Anya-Gra demanded imperiously.
Barr did not even consider disobeying. He stopped less than a foot from the tableau around the stone.
“Eagle, put your hands on the wounds you inflicted.”
Lais turned and did exactly that, laying his palms over the worst of the gashes his claws had rent in Barr’s chest the day before. Tingling heat raced along each of the wounds until all that remained was the heat from Lais’s hands.
Barr looked down and felt no surprise that his chest showed not so much as a healing scar. Since meeting Sabrine, he had come to accept that legend held truth and the power of the Chrechte was in more than their enhanced strength and senses gifted from their animal natures.
Lais was not so quick to accept. “I . . . but I thought . . .”
“The power in the cavern is stronger than it has been in all my years as spiritual leader of the Éan. In this circumstance, miracles happen.” Anya-Gra waved her hand and water from the pool to the right of the dais surged up, drenching them both.
Lais stepped back, looking up at Barr with hope. “I feel cleansed of my guilt.”
“Accept the gift.”
Lais nodded and turned to face the priestess. “Thank you, mother of our people.”
Anya-Gra smiled. “Though you are eagle, with instincts of war, you are healer and must trust and use your gift.”
“I will.”
Allowing his wolf to shine in his eyes, Barr looked at his mate and reached his hand out for her. She took it with no hesitation. Miracles happened.
“I love you,” she said in the ancient language of their people.
He pulled her into the circle of his arms, letting the others fall away as if they were not there. “I love you with all that I am.”
“Faol and man.”
“Wolf and man.”
She smiled, her beauty glowing so brightly that their souls mingled. “I love all that you are.” She said it loud enough for every Chrechte in the cavern to hear.
The sounds of shock nearly matched those that he’d heard when Taran had taken on the form of a dragon.
But Barr could not make himself care. He would deal with her people’s doubts and prejudices later. For now, it was enough she had released hers and embraced their mating with both her heart and her mind.
Their lips met and the air crackled like it did after a lightning storm. He did not know how long they kissed to seal their vows of love, but when their lips parted the others were in a circle around them, quietly speaking the ancient chants of a Chrechte mating.
That was no doubt Anya-Gra’s doing. He would thank her later.
He had never known such a sense of peace as he spoke his vows in entirety and received hers in return. The priestess spoke the final blessing on their true mating, a sound like the clap of thunder shaking the very ground they stood on.
She ushered the others out of the cavern, leaving him to mate with Sabrine in the original way of their people. When they reached orgasm together, the blue light shone around them again and Barr felt it go through him like a warm wind.
“I will love you until the day I die,” he spoke his personal promise against her lips.
Her eyes shone with fierce joy. “I feared you could not return my love.”
“I feared you would never accept my wolf.”
“I love him; I love you.”
“I am your ideal mate, even if I am Faol.”
S
abrine stared up at her husband. They would still need to be married in the way of men, but their vows had been spoken and would never be broken.
Of equal interest to her was her husband’s claim. “You
can
read my mind.”
His smile revealed nothing but the deep and abiding love in his heart for his warrior wife. “Can I?”
“Do not tease.”
“You sometimes send thoughts I know you do not mean to.”
“That is not possible.”
“You trust me enough not to hold your control so tight, and you always have. It gave me hope when you flinched from my wolf in revulsion.”
“But . . .”
“You are mine.”
She had no desire to deny it. “Oh, yes, just as you are mine.”
“Aye, your husband who can hear your thoughts.” From his teasing tone, she could not tell if he meant the words or not.
“That is not possible.”
“This from a woman whose brother shifted into a dragon?”
She had not been sure at first he had actually shifted into their ancient ancestor. “I can project the dragon, but not shift into it.”
“You are my fierce warrior princess. You need no dragon form to be strong.”
She loved the pride she heard in Barr’s voice. Her strength pleased him when she knew many men, Faol and human alike, raised in the clans would not feel so happy about it. “My brother will be king.”