Worry darkened Bren’s eyes. “Won’t yer parents be mad?” he asked.
“No, because we won’t tell them. We can meet and train in secret,” she said. The thrill that idea sent through her was more than worth her parents’ wrath.
Gaze returning to the forest before them, Bren chewed on his bottom lip. She had to convince him. For a moment she again considered telling him about the Danes. But no matter how angry she was with her da, she didn’t want to disobey him outright on that, not yet at least.
“Come on, it’s obvious I’m not safe,” she pressed.
He let out a long sigh and gave her a defeated look that barely covered his excitement.
“When can ye sneak away?”
5
The next day Neala finished her chores in a flash, leaving her entire afternoon free. The dishes from lunch were still drying when she grabbed a muffin from the basket on the kitchen table and started for the door. The tedium of daily activities was driving her crazy now that she knew there was a fight brewing.
“Where are ye off to?” her ma asked from her seat by the fire where she was crocheting.
How her ma could stand such a task right now was beyond her. But then, her people were used to living with the threat of invasion and had conditioned themselves to believe it wouldn’t reach them. A part of Neala wanted to tear the yarn from her ma’s hands and shake some sense into her. The way she saw it, fear wasn’t always a bad thing, not when it was warranted.
Hand on the doorknob; Neala hesitated as she struggled to pick the least suspicious sounding excuse she could come up with.
“To check on the flock in the high pasture. Unless there’s anythin’ else ye need me to do. Ye said it was safe after all,” she said.
Her ma’s rigid posture relaxed and she gave Neala a small smile. “No, go ahead. Have a nice ride. But do be careful,” she said.
What, did she think Neala had been about to dash off to battle? Surely her ma didn’t think she was that daft.
“I will,” Neala called back as she slipped out the door and ran for the barn.
A day ago she would have felt horrible for lying to her ma but now that she knew her parents had lied to her, it didn’t matter. If they could do it so easily so could she. Besides, her lie wasn’t nearly as hurtful as theirs. It wasn’t like she was lying to them about what they were capable of.
Dubh nickered at her as she came in the barn. Grabbing his bridle, she stepped into his stall and found he wasn’t alone. Two fairies floated in the air near his mane, weaving his black hair into delicate braids. He stood very still, head drooped as if he didn’t want to mess them up. Both of the fairies were female and wore a gossamer type of fabric that covered less than their long blond hair did. One had wings the color of the bluebell flowers that grew in the pasture. The other’s wings reminded Neala of the purple wisteria that clung to the roof of Bren’s house.
“Ah, thank ye ladies for doing such a fine job of groomin’ him.”
The blue winged fairy dropped the locks of Dubh’s mane and turned to Neala. She smiled and floated over to her. Those impossibly tiny hands picked up Neala’s long brown hair and started to weave it expertly.
“Not today Flora. I have somewhere to go,” Neala said.
The fairy’s shoulders sagged in disappointment and she moved away with a few lazy beats of her wings. Dubh pushed his nose into Neala’s hand, forcing her to pull the muffin away.
“Don’t be greedy now boy, ye have guests,” she told him.
He kept pushing at her, forcing her to turn her back on him. She tore the muffin in half and reached outside the stall to place half of it on top of the grain barrel.
“There ye go ladies,” Neala said.
The two fairies flew out to fetch the treat, touching Neala’s hair and face as they passed.
Once Dubh had finished his half of the muffin, Neala slid the bridle on him and swung onto his back. This time as she used her energy to give her an extra push she wondered what else it could do. A thrill ran through her. Careful of the little blue flowers the fairies had woven into Dubh’s mane, she grabbed hold of it and leaned over to open his stall door.
For the first time in her life she had someone besides the fairies to talk to, someone who would talk back. It was icing on the cake that he was so cute—really good, really rich icing. Smiling, Neala urged Dubh into a trot and left the barn, waving back at the fairies. They would always be special to her but she was more than ready to move beyond childhood playmates.
The sun shone from a cloudless blue sky, forcing Neala to shield her eyes. Considering how rare such weather was this close to the end of spring, she took it as a good sign. The grass was dry and the yellow and blue flowers around the house were open with their petals toward the sun. Every living thing hummed with vitality, making Neala’s skin buzz. Moving through all that energy was almost like moving through water with different currents pulling or pushing. Her awareness had never been quite this focused. But then, she had always thought her power was useless so she had ignored it until now.
When she rounded the house she came upon her da chopping wood. He smiled and waved as she rode past.
“Have a good ride. Remember Neala, not a word about Dublin to anyone. There’s nothin’ to worry about,” he said.
Neala squeezed her eyes shut and flinched inwardly. She had planned to tell Bren about the invaders today. If she lied her da would know. Druids had an uncanny ability when it came to detecting lies.
“Don’t worry da, I won’t. Ye said it was safe after all. I’ll stack that for ye when I get back,” she said, adding the last part to take the sting out of the dig about it being safe. She didn’t want to give him any reason to call her back. Thankfully, he didn’t.
The path leading into the forest was clear enough of vines and plants that Neala felt comfortable letting Dubh speed up into a canter. Unlike yesterday’s wild ride, the pace was relaxed and controlled. She wanted to get there fast but she wanted to be in one piece when she arrived. It was a tossup which excited her more—seeing Bren, or learning to use her power. All night she had been picturing his face—and more. Those kind, alluring green eyes wouldn’t give her a moment’s peace.
The terrain started to change after a while, growing steeper and rockier. She slowed Dubh to a trot and eventually to a walk once he started breathing heavily. He was the kind of horse that would run until he was dripping sweat if she wanted him to.
The trees became thinner the higher they climbed until soon they were surrounded by only a grassy meadow. The hill leveled out and Neala could see for miles. The green meadow stretched out for a while before being engulfed by the forest. Ancient trees that had seen generations of her kind grew in these mountains. Some were as big around as a small cottage and tall enough that they seemed to brush the clouds. Coming up here always made Neala feel humble and small, yet connected to something big and wonderful at the same time.
Her da’s family had lived here in the Slieve Bloom Mountains for generations. Seeing it like this helped her understand why her brother had been willing to fight and die for it. Still, a huge part of her would have rather had him back than enjoy this meadow. The thought of going to battle without him sent a shiver through her. But if her parents were to be believed, then the battle wasn’t coming to them. Problem was, she no longer believed her parents.
“Ye made it,” Bren’s voice came seemingly out of nowhere.
He was standing at the edge of the forest to her right, not more than ten feet away. Had he been a fiann or a Dane she would have been in trouble, again. One foot was placed casually on a big rock and he rested an arm upon his raised leg. His casual stance made her wonder how long he had been there. Heat flashed through her and her jaw clenched. She should have noticed him. That she didn’t made her feel like a bit of a failure already. A good warrior would have known someone was near. Her brother had taught her better than that.
But her frustration faded as her eyes trailed the curve of Bren’s bicep and settled on the cute smirk his lips were pulled into. It was hard to remain upset with him smiling at her like that. He had one of those smiles that made a girl warm all over.
“Of course I made it,” she said as she leapt from Dubh’s back.
The ground was rockier than it looked and her ankle turned due to the rough, uneven landing. Warmth spread through her and her stomach clenched as the ground rushed toward her. But an embarrassing fall didn’t await her, Bren’s arms did. Despite having seen him half-naked, his strength surprised her, as did his speed. How he had crossed such a distance in the blink of an eye she had no idea. Dubh let out a startled squeal and pawed the ground.
Neala had a moment to notice how solid Bren felt against her and how good he smelled—like spices and soap—before he stepped away. A quick glance revealed that his cheeks were flushed red which made her smile. He started to give her a shy look from beneath his long lashes then Dubh jumped between them, pawing and squealing at Bren.
“Dubh no! Back, get back,” Neala commanded.
Though he snorted and shook his head, he did as she bid. Tiny blue flowers flew free of his mane and fluttered to the ground. Once Dubh was out of the way Neala saw Bren had stepped back and was holding both hands up in a placating gesture.
“Sorry about that, he’s a bit protective,” Neala said.
Bren lowered his hands as the stallion backed off. “I’ve noticed that,” he said.
Neala patted Dubh on the neck, using it as an excuse to look away from Bren. “Thank ye for catchin’ me,” she said.
Such a lack of grace wasn’t usually like her and it was embarrassing, especially in this instance. First she hadn’t noticed him standing there and now she was being clumsy. Her warrior training was not off to a good start. Bren made her feel flustered and distracted. He was the first boy to ever show her attention, but she didn’t want him to know that.
“Ye’re welcome,” he said in a tone that suggested he didn’t mind.
He bent and picked up a handful of the blue flowers that had come free of Dubh’s mane. Lips tightening, Dubh pushed his nose between the two of them and flattened his ears. Neala scratched his nose and pushed it out of the way. It was an automatic reaction to open her palm when Bren handed the flowers to her.
“I’m sorry I frightened him and ruined yer handiwork,” he said.
A sharp laugh slipped from her. “Thank ye but I didn’t do it, fairies did. I’m not exactly good at womanly things.”
She thought she saw a twinge of disappointment before Bren gave her a half-grin and inclined his head. “I should have guessed fairies would be drawn to ye,” he said.
The comment made her wonder. “Why would they be drawn to me?”
Bren shrugged. “Like us, they are connected to the Earth and they’re drawn to female druids for some reason, probably yer power,” he said.
At least that much matched what her ma had told her. It was good to know her parents hadn’t lied about everything. Bren was still looking at her. She enjoyed the weight of his gaze but it made her blush and with her light complexion she knew it would show.
“Are we going to practice here?” she asked.
“
Tá
, this place will do.”
The way he said
tá
sent an entirely different kind of flush through her. He used the old language almost freely, as if he wasn’t afraid of someone hearing. She loved that about him.
With a cluck of her tongue Neala got Dubh to step to her side. He dropped his head, allowing her to remove his bridle. “Go eat,” she told him.
Tail up in the air, he pranced off into the meadow until he was knee-deep in grass.
“Won’t he run off?” Bren asked.
Neala laughed as she watched Dubh wander about with most of his head buried in the tall grass. “No, he won’t let me out of his sight,” she said.
Bren’s eyebrows rose. His gaze shifted from Neala to Dubh and he nodded. “Ye and that horse have a special bond. Maybe he’s like the púca of legend,” he said.
Anger flared up and she spun upon Bren, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare. “Just because he’s a bit spirited doesn’t mean he’s a púca. Ye can’t possibly be daft enough to think he ruined me life just because he broke me ankle. He’s saved me life more times than I can count,” she snapped, sounding harsher than she’d meant to.
Holding his hands up in the same placating gesture he’d used on Dubh, Bren shook his head. “I meant no insult. The púca isn’t evil or bad, the legend is often misunderstood. The púca takes ye on a wild ride that changes yer life forever but that doesn’t mean it changes in a bad way.”
For years Neala had listened to people curse her horse like he was a devil, calling him púca as if the term were damning. Like the legend, he was a solid black horse with a lot of spirit and a mind of his own. He was so hard to control no one else wanted him. But for Neala he was perfect, if a bit excitable. Why had she never thought of the legend the way Bren had put it? It made her look upon him with a new measure of respect.
“Ye’re right, thank ye. Ye certainly know a lot about legends,” she said.
A cute half-smile spread across his face. “Me ma made certain I knew every legend our people ever told. She fears they may get lost since our language and ways are forbidden,” he said, his expression darkening at the last part.
“That’s great of her. Me brother died fightin’ to protect our ways,” Neala said.
Bren’s eyes lit up as he grabbed her hand and led her over to a large flat rock. “Daylight’s wastin’, we better get started.”
He sat on the rock and pulled her down in front of him, his warm hand encasing hers. She folded her legs before her and tried to slow her pounding heart. It wasn’t just Bren’s warm hand in hers; she was excited to finally learn about her power. Everything would change after today. Even if the Danes didn’t come here then she’d be able to defend herself from fianns which would give her much more freedom to roam around.
“Have ye had any basic fight trainin’?” he asked.
“A little. Me brother taught me how to fight with me hands and feet.”