knife. Deirdre hid her amusement at how voracious Bran began cutting into the fruit.
“Gonna cut his thumb off for sure,” Snedeker snickered from the air.
“Quiet, you,” Deirdre chided.
“It will take days to heal those bruises, I think,” Kegan said, pointing at Bran’s wounds and ignoring the fairy. “The Dark One wanted ye badly, it seems. Thankfully the Morrigan kept ye from him at all costs.”
Deirdre caught the Queen of the Tuatha de Dannan looking their way. She was a tall woman, armored in blood-spattered onyx plate that appeared lighter than it probably was, her limbs lithe, raven black hair pulled back from white cheekbones. Deirdre had only met her twice now. More concerned by their safety, the Morrigan had not yet spoken to Bran. She was a soul made of steel, the wisdom of ages in her unlined face. Power radiated from her being and even from a distance it made Deirdre feel small and inconsequential.
“She took a great risk ye know,” Kegan said, also noticing the attention.
“What do you mean?” Bran questioned.
“We are the hunted, lad. Have been for ages. The Dark One and his ilk have warred and spread from your world throughout this one, and the peace we desired so long ago—the peace we wanted to find upon fleeing your world—has become a wisp of smoke. Now they control all but these mountains and even the weather. We strike, we plunder, we survive, and we disappear to do it again. Saving ye and the knight exposed us. We will have to watch paths for months now, even more than already done.”
“Why would she care?” Bran asked, perplexed. “Richard and I are nothing to you.”
“Why does anyone do what they do?” Deirdre noted, shrugging. “Because they feel it to be the right thing, of course. And usually advantageous.”
“I read about a Morrigan once,” Bran said. “In my world.”
“From what I understand, we are a source of false tales in your world,” Kegan laughed. “Time has erased us like a footprint in a stream. But I am real, am I not?”
“All too real,” Bran replied.
Kegan grinned. “First time ye’ve ridden, eh?”
“It is. The pain in my ass grows worse every time I have to get back on.”
“Then walk,” Deirdre said, grinning.
“It will become easier,” Kegan said, smiling at the redhead. “Imagine my sons and I. We have to climb the mane like a rope in order to mount the Rhedewyr.”
“With my luck lately I’ll fall off and break my neck,” Bran said.
“Where there is a will, young Bran. Where there is a will,” Kegan said. “Getting thrown is not the worst that could happen. My father told a tale of my grandfather’s grandfather who, in his drunken dotage, fell off his horse and lost a leg. The hoof severed it right off.” Kegan made a quick slicing motion. “Stay on and ye will not have that problem.”
“Can I ask you a question, Kegan?” Bran asked.
“Always, lad.”
“What are you exactly?”
The Horsemaster looked quizzically at Deirdre and burst with a loud guffaw.
“I am what I am,” Kegan chuckled. “I imagine ye want to know I am a clurichaun.”
Bran frowned. “Is that like a leprechaun?”
“No, no, nothing of the sort!” Kegan said indignantly. “No, I actually work for my bed and meals, lad. Lazy imps the leprechauns, the lot o’ them.”
Willowyn brought Deirdre and Bran to the Morrigan, who had decided to wait on her own steed at the side of the trail, her piercing blue eyes never deviating from them. Deirdre knew Bran felt the power of the Queen too; the outworlder shrank a bit as they grew closer.
“Kegan, ride ahead,” the Morrigan said simply, her lips thin.
“My Queen,” the Horsemaster said with a nod, leaving.
“Are you well?” she asked both Deirdre and Bran.
“Better,” Deirdre responded for both of them. “Thank you.”
“I apologize for not speaking with you sooner,” the Queen said, looking only at Bran. “There were…matters of safety and the wounded to consider. It is important we cover our passage fully and I oversee it personally. To make a mistake would be dire indeed.” She then noted Bran’s wounds. “You have been injured but you are strong—more so than you probably think. Like the Lady of Mochdrev Reach here. It takes such people to survive, what you have and what is to come. Has your ride been comfortable?”
“It doesn’t matter, as long as I am not tied up,” Bran said.
“Very true,” the Morrigan agreed. “No one likes to be under the yoke, do they, Deirdre?”