Dragon's Moon (22 page)

“You are the one who claims to still follow the ways of the ancient Chrechte. Then you must believe in the visions…that I am descendant of a Chrechte king. Why shouldn't I have his sword?” Only they both knew why not. Because she'd had no idea until Mairi came that Ciara's past led back to the original rulers of her race.

“I did not say you stole it,” he gritted out with clear reluctance.

She forced herself to rise, only swaying a little as she gained her feet.

Eirik was there before she could blink, holding her arm,
his scowl gone, to be replaced by concern. “What is the matter?”

Waking dreams left her even more weakened than those that disturbed her sleep, but that was her own burden to bear and she certainly would not confide it to him. “Nothing. I am fine.”

“You are pale.”

“I need more sun.”

He frowned, obviously not liking the flippancy of her answer.

“I had a vision,” she said, to get his attention off her temporary weakness.

If he had looked concerned before, now he appeared downright worried. “While you were awake?”

The man didn't seem able to decide if he despised her or cared about her and she wasn't risking believing in the one when the other might be lurking around a convenient rock.

“It is not the first time,” she said as casually as she could, like these waking visions did not terrify her.

“You did not mention this when we all spoke earlier.”

“I did not think it mattered.” And she had not wanted to worry her parents further. They had seemed distressed enough by the dreams and the call of the sacred stone.

“You need to speak to my grandmother.”

“Why?”

“She is Anya-Gra, spiritual leader of our people.”

“A
kelle
?”

“No, a
celi di
. She is no warrior; though she has been trained to protect herself, she would not lift her hand to another. 'Tis not in her nature.”

“I thought only men could be
celi di
.” Servants of God, not quite priests, but respected as servants of the church all the same. Though not technically under its authority, Highland priests performed religious ceremonies and guided their people's spiritual welfare.

“Among the human clans, this has become the case, but make no mistake, the Chrechte have followed female
celi di
and
kelle
since the beginning of time. Just as they have followed men with such callings.”

“I knew that…the old stories.”

“But the Faol no longer practice such spirituality.”

She could not deny his words. “Abigail told me that her friend the abbess said Scripture states there is no distinction between man and woman in faith. Men make the distinctions.”

“As we do in so many other things.”

“So, your grandmother is a
celi di
?”

“She is and she can help you learn to live with and control your gift.”

“The visions can be controlled?”

“I do not know, but my grandmother has never been as ill from them as you were when I arrived here.”

“She is not part of the group of Éan that joined the Sinclairs.”

“No.”

“Where is she then? Did she stay in the forest?”

“How did you know some of the Éan chose to stay?”

“I wasn't sure, but I remembered the stories of the Faol that did the same, when we joined the clans.”

“My grandmother claims there are still such Faol in the forest.”

“If she is a seer, she would know.”

“Aye.”

“Is
she still in the forest?”

“No. She went to the Donegal clan, to live near my sister, the first of our generation to give birth.”

“Your sister is Barr's wife, is she not?”

“She is, but few know of the connection.”

Ciara shrugged. What should she say? She knew things she should not and not all of them from visions.

“What does the Donegal priest think of your grandmother, I wonder?”

“I do not know, but he is not like many priests. He trained one of the Donegals to be
celi di
and does not assign penances out of cruelty.”

“He is indeed a man of God then.”

“Most likely.”

Silence stretched between them, but he did not release her and she made no move to distance herself from him.

She bit her lip, as she was wont to do when agitated.

“It is hard.”

“What?” Could that really be his voice, so soft and understanding?

She looked up at him, losing herself in his amber gaze against all good thinking. “To know things others do not, things you should not know.”

“Is it?” He brushed the back of his hand down her cheek.

“Yes.”

“Surely it is not all bad.”

“Perhaps not.” Ciara leaned into Eirik's touch, unable to do anything else.

“It got me Galen's attention when he had pulled away from his family, spending most of his time with his friends instead. It also cost him his life.”

“Your brother did not die because you were trying to help him find the
Faolchú Chridhe
. He died because he followed Luag in hunting innocent Éan children.”

“Galen didn't want to hurt them,” she felt compelled to point out again.

Some of the hardness seeped back into Eirik's expression. “But he did nothing to stop Luag.”

“No.” She dropped her head, not wanting to see the look of censure on Eirik's features.

Her brother had committed a heinous act in even hunting another Chrechte, the fact he had not wanted to hurt the children did not exonerate him.

“I am sorry you lost your brother.”

The words of condolence were so unexpected, she fell mute in shock.

“But not that you killed him,” she finally said.

“I cannot be; to feel regret would be to place his life above the children he allowed to be threatened.”

“Yes.”

“You agree?” He tugged her face back up so their eyes had no choice but to meet.

“I am not a fool.”

He nodded, his understanding glowing in the amber of his eyes. “Just a woman with knowledge she does not know what to do with.”

Tears threatened at this further understanding and she blinked to keep the moisture back. “Yes.”

“Anya-Gra will help you.”

“So, I am not the descendant of a king, but a spiritual leader?” she asked, thinking of the old woman she had seen in her dream.

“Probably both. The royal family of the Éan have ruled our people for millennia and each spiritual leader we have had has also come from my line.”

“Do you think it was the same with the wolves, before MacAlpin?”

“Aye. I am certain of it.”

“But our royal lineage is now spread out like birdseed tossed from a high window among the clans.”

“But only you possess the king's sword.”

“I have a dirk with the same stones, and the arm cuff of one of my ancestors who was
kelle
, but I do not have her sword.”

“As you said, your line has been spread out among the clans, but for you to have all three items, your lineage must be as pure as Mairi claims.”

“They never told me.”

“Your parents?”

“Or my brother. They all hid it from me, like I didn't matter.”

“Mayhap they did not want to burden you with knowledge too heavy to bear.”

Her aching heart was touched by Eirik's attempt to console her, but she knew the truth and she shook her head.

Finally finding the strength of will, she pulled away from him to go to the bed and look down at the sword. She was afraid to touch it again and maybe have another vision.

“So, it truly was the weapon of a monarch? I always thought it looked like it should be.” Yet even after her vision, she had a hard time believing it.

“Aye. I have one just like it.” Eirik drew his sword over his shoulder and swung it down to land against his other hand between them.

It was bronze as well, the edges of the blade sharpened to a much finer bevel than the one she kept in her trunk.

“May I see the handle?” she asked.

He repositioned the weapon so that it laid across his hands, fully open to her inspection.

After examining his sword closely, she stepped away from both it and the weapon lying on her bed. “They are not just alike.”

“Are they not?” he asked, as if indulging her.

“No. On your handle, the dragon is the center figure. On mine, the
conriocht
is central.”

They both went silent, contemplating what this slight difference could mean.

“Such would imply there is a sword out there somewhere that has a griffin as its center,” he said in a tone she had never before heard from the dragon shifter…awe.

“A myth…”

The look Eirik gave her was wry. “Like the Éan and the true
conriocht
.”

“But where are the cat shifters then, the Paindeal?”

Eirik looked thoughtful. “Some of the most ancient stories told of a bridge of land that used to connect Scotland to the land of the Norse. The Chrechte had supposedly traveled over these bridges of land before they fell into the sea and the only way to the land of the Vikings was by water because even an eagle cannot fly that far.”

She thought maybe a dragon might be able to, though she did not say it. “You think the Paindeal are still in those lands?”

“Perhaps. Mayhap we will answer that question after we find the wolves' sacred stone.”

Deciding the time for secrets was past, there was too much at stake, Ciara said, “I think I saw the woman that hid the
Faolchú Chridhe
.”

“In your vision.”

“Yes. She was in a cave. It was lit with torches, there
were drawings carved into the wall, but I could not make them out in the meager light.” And her attention had been fixed on the woman.

Ciara only remembered the drawings as an impression on the peripheral of her sight.

“Was it the cavern of your other dreams?”

“No, but maybe it's part of the cave system that leads to it.”

“So, you think the stone was hidden in a cave?”

“Yes, a cavern, deep in the ground. It glows with a strange green light.” Would Eirik believe her any more fully than Galen, or would he too question the certainty she woke from her dreams with?

“I do not spend much time in caves when my dragon is not busy protecting the dreams of seers who are tormented by their gift. Are there known caverns like this?”

“There may be. We should ask our lair…um, my father. If he does not know, someone among the Balmoral may.”

“It is a sound plan.”

For no reason she could discern, she blushed with pleasure under his approval. Eirik's view of her did not matter.
She could not allow it to matter.

Nothing weighs on us so heavily as a secret.

—J
EAN DE
L
A
F
ONTAINE

“W
e need to speak to the Sinclair immediately.” Eirik sheathed his sword. “We have changed our plans for travel to Balmoral Island as well.”

“We are going to join Lais and Mairi on the boat crossing?” Ciara asked hopefully.

Eirik shook his head. “You and I will ride with them until we are far enough away from the keep and crofter's huts not to risk having my dragon seen. Then I will shift and take you to the island. Fidaich and Canaul will stay with the horses while we are on the island.”

“They are only boys.”

“Old enough to guard horses.”

“What if Mairi's father has sent soldiers to search for her? The boys would be no match for a full-grown Chrechte warrior. Besides, we are searching for the
Faolchú Chridhe
, surely Faol soldiers should accompany us.”

“You do not trust me to protect you without warriors of the Faol to help?”

She should say no, remind him that he had already
proven himself to show no pity toward wolves, but she couldn't. No matter what she
should
feel toward the prince of the Éan, Ciara could not shake the certainty that her life was safe with him. And she could hardly claim a dragon was not up to the task of protecting her regardless.

“You are far too busy helping your people settle into the clan to take on this quest,” she said, trying another tack and hoping to avoid the question of trust altogether.

She also wished she'd thought of this argument earlier during their discussion with everyone. It might have swayed her father, but then again…probably not.

No more than she expected it to sway the Éan prince. If he had already decided his people could be trusted under her father's leadership, Eirik was not going to balk at leaving them to do his own assigned duty for the clan.

“The plans for the search coincide with my need to check on the well-being of the rest of the Éan among the Balmoral and Donegal clans.”