Warrior's Moon (20 page)

“Both, I’d say.” Caelis lunged forward, knocking Vegar’s sword from his hand so easily, it couldn’t even be considered a victory.

This time, the other man’s curse was more colorful and vicious.

Vegar rolled and grabbed his sword as he came up into a fighting stance again. “I am a trained protector among the Éan, now Cahir. I will prevail.”

They had trained together in the secret, elite group of warriors begun centuries ago in response to the Fearghall. The last remaining Cahir lived among the Balmoral and were now busy training warriors from the clans determined
to fight the Fearghall’s despicable endeavors to rid the world of all Chrechte but the Faol.

“I do not think your warrior training will do you much good when wooing a woman,” Caelis observed.

“It has taught me patience, persistence and the ability to take a wound and continue to fight.”

Put that way…“Mayhap I will rely more on my warrior’s training as well.”

“You have already marked Shona with your scent. She will not deny you now.”

“She is not Chrechte.”

“Are the humans who lived among the Éan so different than those of the clans then?” Vegar asked.

The eagle had lived with his brethren deep in the forest until a year ago when their prince led them in joining the clans dedicated to restoring the brotherhood of the Chrechte and all its races. The humans who lived among them were considered part of their tribe in a way the packs had not embraced their own clans. All humans among the Éan knew of their Chrechte natures.

While only a trusted few in each clan were aware of the animal forms the Chrechte among them could take.

But he did not understand how that would make their human brethren different in this case. “What do you mean?”

“If a human woman allows a man to take what they call
liberties
, she is obliged to marry him. Are clanswomen not governed by the same obligation?”

“Not if the one in question is as stubborn as she is willful.”

“Like your mate.”

“Aye, exactly like my mate.”

“The boy at the table…he smelled like you.”

“He is my son.” It gave Caelis great joy to say it, but the sorrow he felt at their time lost together immediately tempered his gratification.

“What happened?”

Caelis told Vegar the story as they continued their sparring,
neither man showing the best side of their control or focus.

“Your alpha lied to you about your true mate?” Vegar’s tone was laden with horror at such an atrocity.

“Aye.” Caelis performed a running leap that ended in a forward somersault, which he leapt out of with his sword pointed at Vegar’s femoral artery. “All Uven cares about is the pack increasing its numbers.”

Vegar kicked Caelis’s arm aside and spun out of reach of the sharpened sword. “You would not be able to get another woman with child once you’d consummated a true mating, no matter what your alpha dictated.”

The fact that a Chrechte could not physically engage in sexual acts with others once a sacred mating had been consummated was one of the reasons true bonds were so revered and respected.

“I did not tell him that Shona and I had made love. Uven was particularly adamant about it and I did not want to disappoint him,” Caelis admitted bitterly.

“He’d put himself in place of your father.”

“To my detriment.”

Vegar grunted an agreement as he narrowly avoided getting dumped on his ass by Caelis’s sweeping foot. “You sent her away without knowing she carried your child.”

“I did not send her away.” Why he had to keep reminding people of that fact, he did not know.

It was Vegar’s turn to come close to sending Caelis sprawling. “You thought your alpha would change his mind, given time.”

“Exactly.” See? The other Cahir understood what Shona refused to accept.

Mayhap one had to be a warrior to think with that kind of strategy.

“But he is Fearghall. He was never going to change his mind about you having a human mate.” Vegar’s words cut down Caelis’s arrogant thinking like a sword going through the heart of a boar.

Shona did not believe Uven would have changed his mind either and clearly expected Caelis to have been equally as wise.

But he had not.

“I realized that too late.” To his shame, Caelis had not opened to the awareness of Uven’s treachery in regard to his mate until several other matters had forced his unquestioning faith in the laird to be shaken.

“She will not forgive you?”

“I dinna ken.” He hoped, but he had no certainty.

“Does she know your plans?”

“I spoke of them, but not in detail. She knows I plan to return to the MacLeod.”

Their swords clanged in rhythmic beats as they fell into a fighting pattern neither could easily break free of or win. It made them both sweat with exertion, but continued to show both their skills in a dull light.

“And?” Vegar prompted after a particularly loud clash.

“She never wants to return to the clan of our births.”

“She plans to live among the Sinclairs?” Vegar’s shock translated to a clumsy move on his part and it was his turn to weep blood from a small gash.

“Shona has family among the Balmoral.”

This time, Caelis was able to compensate for Vegar’s surprise-driven clumsiness and he did not draw blood.

“Are you going to let her go?”

“What choice have I?”

“The same options you had six years ago.”

Caelis stopped moving completely, his sword falling to his side as his friend’s words sank into his warrior’s heart. “My clan or my mate?”

Vegar shook his head firmly, no pity in his expression, only a good dose of disgust. “Giving up or fighting for the woman Providence has decreed as yours.”

C
aelis was no weak-willed coward unwilling to fight
, but when he opened his mouth to say so, he could not get the words out. Because he
had
refused to fight for Shona six years ago.

He had left his sacred mate to fend for herself while carrying his child. Caelis had wanted Uven’s approval so much that he had dismissed his feelings for Shona and done as the laird ordered, repudiating her completely.

Six years ago, Caelis had felt trapped between his duty to his pack and alpha and the woman he wanted to make his mate.

He was just as torn in two directions now. How could he fight for Shona when it meant either forcing her to return to a clan she so clearly despised or abdicating his own responsibilities and the promises he had made to the Cahir?

“What in damnation are you two doing?” the Sinclair bellowed as he approached them.

“Sparring,” Vegar said, his tone just as surly.

The Éan recognized no alpha but their prince and were
still acclimating to the concept of living under a laird’s authority within the clans.

The Éan had only recently joined the clans, having lived secretly in the forest under the reign of their royal family for the past centuries. The Faol had lost their royal family, or most of them, in MacAlpin’s betrayal.

A pack alpha was not so different from a prince to Caelis’s way of thinking though.

And they’d since learned that some of their own people yet carried the royal blood of the Faol. Himself included if the evidence of his son’s gifts could be believed.

“When two
trained
warriors spar, they do not draw blood.” Talorc glared with disapproval.

Caelis would have said something cutting in response, but the laird was right. There was no excuse for his and Vegar’s carelessness.

Vegar scowled, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance. “This mating business is not so simple. No wonder my tribe encouraged bonding without seeking one’s true mate.”

“The Éan had little choice in your isolated home, but now that you live among the clans, God willing, many of your people will find their mates.”

Vegar did not appear brightened by the prospect. Caelis could not blame him. He’d no desire to give Shona or their children up, but neither did he enjoy the difficulties their bond created in his life.

Talorc sighed, his expression tinged with unexpected understanding. “Abigail gave me a fair chase.”

“She was ordered by her king to marry you.” Caelis did not see how the laird could have had to chase the woman.

“But a Chrechte desires the heart of his true mate, not mere promises of fidelity.”

“I would take the promises.” He’d had Shona’s heart once.

He had no doubts it was not on offer again. That organ now resided behind a prickly wall of impenetrable brambles.

“So you think.”

“A warrior has no need of emotional entanglements.” Vegar sounded very sure for a man so easily distracted by finding his mate.

“A warrior fights best when he has something of great value to fight for,” Talorc said, quoting ancient Faol tradition.

“That refers to our tribe, or pack. A Chrechte is not suited to life alone.”

“You quote more Chrechte teachings but do not understand them.” Talorc unsheathed his own sword, dropping into a fighting stance. “Come spar with me and I will see if you can keep your blood in your veins.”

Vegar and Caelis both moved to take opposing stances to Talorc. Soon the clang of clashing metal could be heard again, this time even more frequently and with more controlled rhythm.

“What do you mean, I do not understand our teachings?” Vegar demanded as he advanced on the laird.

Talorc maintained his defensive posture without losing ground to Vegar’s attack. “A warrior’s first concern is not his tribe or pack.”

Vegar stopped moving, shock holding his body rigid. “You do not teach your warriors this.”

“I do.” Talorc’s sword arced down, caught Vegar’s and tossed the other blade across the ground like a twig. “Sacred matings supersede even our duty to pack.”

“But…”

“A Chrechte can survive without a pack—but only in misery without his true bonded.”

Caelis nodded his agreement before thinking about it. He felt the need to point out, however, that, “Love is not necessary between mates.”

“Nay, but it makes life a joy when it is there.”

“You sound like a woman,” Caelis accused.

Then he spent the next fifteen minutes fighting a warrior that might well best him on the battlefield were they ever pitted in truth against each other, even with his new
form gifted through the sacred stone. Because Talorc had been gifted as well and he was a formidable fighter.

Ciara’s connection to the
Faolchú Chridhe
had turned out to be an amazing blessing for the Faol, particularly those committed to fighting the Fearghall.

*   *   *

C
aelis was sitting on the steps leading to the keep and
cleaning his sword while trying to decide if he wanted to return to the loch for a dip to rinse away the blood, sweat and dirt of sparring, when Eadan came running up.

Eyes shining with excitement, Eadan called, “Da!”

Caelis heart squeezed in his chest and he smiled at his son. “What are you about?”

“We’re going searching for bugs.” And then the small boy launched into a tale about what kind of insects could be found where.

The excited words tumbling from his lips ceased as Caelis’s son’s gaze fell on the cut on his arm. “You’re hurt!”

Caelis shook his head. “’Tis naught.”

Eadan turned back to his mother, who had been walking a pace behind with Audrey and little Marjory. “Mum, Da is
bleeding
.”

Shona’s beautiful green eyes darkened with concern. “What happened?”

Maybe not all was lost. She’d responded to his touch with all the hunger she’d shown six years ago and had at least some consideration for his well-being.

“Sparring.” Caelis would have preferred not to answer, but he was no child to pretend not to hear what he would rather not have been said.

Shona’s confusion shone clearly on her lovely face. “I thought you were not supposed to draw blood during practice?”

“It happens.”

“It’s not supposed to.” Eadan looked up, worry etched in his boyish features. “Thomas said so.”

“Thomas has the right of it. Who were you sparring with that you came away marked?” Shona demanded.

“Vegar.”

Shona’s hands settled on her hips. “And you call this man a friend?”

“It was not on purpose.”

“How could it not be on purpose? It was his hand on the blade, was it not?”

Despite his own embarrassment at their poor performance on the training field, Caelis fought a smile. “Aye.”

“Well, then?” Shona’s foot tapped against the packed dirt in front of the keep.

“Vegar has his own wounds,” Caelis replied, figuring that would mitigate the little termagant’s ire.

“Vegar? He is hurt?” Audrey asked, her pitch rising with each word. “Is it a grievous wound?”

“Not likely.” Caelis snorted his disbelief. “He is fine; it is only a small cut like mine.”

“Where is he?” Audrey demanded, not in the least appeased.

She turned and looked over the practice field, as if the warrior would magically appear.