Morrighan - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,19

dull and stupid anyway.”

Jafir’s chest heaved with anger, his fist still tight on the knife, and I thought he might plunge it deep into his brother’s throat, but he finally stood and ordered Steffan to get up. Steffan did as he was told, indignantly wiping the dust off his clothes as if he had been clean before the fight.

“Go,” Jafir ordered. “And never come back here. Do you understand?”

Steffan smirked and left. Jafir stood in the doorway watching him go.

That was it? Leave?

My hands shook uncontrollably, and I pressed them to my sides, trying to make the trembling stop. I hadn’t said a word through it all—my throat had frozen in fear. A shaky whisper finally spilled out. “Jafir.” Terror pounded in my head. “How did he find us?”

Jafir’s eyes were wild, and his lip was bleeding, dripping and staining his chest. “I don’t know. He must have followed me. I was always careful, but today—”

“What are we going to do?” I sobbed. “He’ll come back! I know he will!”

Jafir grabbed my hands, trying to stop the shaking. “Yes, he will come back, which means you never can, Morrighan. Ever. We’ll find another place for us—”

“But the tribe! They’re not far! He’ll find them! How could you let him follow you, Jafir? You promised! You—” I whirled, wiping my brow with the heel of my hand, trying to think, panic rising in me.

Jafir grabbed my shoulders. “He won’t find the tribe. You said yourself the vale is well hidden. I’ve never found it. Steffan is lazy. He won’t even try.”

“But what if he tells others?”

“Tells them what? That he found a girl from a tribe we had already raided? A tribe that had already abandoned their camp and were moving on? You have no worth to them.”

Jafir insisted on riding me back to the ridge that led to my tribe, just in case his brother had lingered, but Steffan was gone. The meadow and canyon seemed as it always had, quiet and free of threat. My heart began to beat its normal rhythm again. Jafir said he would meet me at a crevasse in the ridge in three days—time for Steffan to cool his heels and believe the raided tribe was long gone and out of reach. He clutched my hand as I slid from his horse, looking at me as if it might be the last time he saw me, a crease between his brows.

“Three days,” he said again.

I nodded, worry twisting in my throat, and I finally pulled my hand from his.

Chapter Sixteen

Jafir

My face stung with the wind. I rode as fast as I could, snatching up my snares as I went. They were all empty, but it didn’t seem to matter. I could only think about Steffan and the way he had smiled at me last night. I understood now. Somehow he had spotted us, seen me riding with Morrighan. Or maybe when we were wading in the pond?

I retraced our steps, trying to think where it could have been. I never took her anywhere close to our camp, and Steffan was lazy and rarely strayed far from it. But Fergus had been more surly since the arrival of the northern kin. More insistent on building up our stores. No one was to come back empty-handed, and—now it struck me with clarity—of course Steffan would follow on my heels, since I was the better hunter. Maybe it was he who had already emptied my snares.

The image of him coming upon us flashed through my mind again. Standing in the doorway, composed and confident, with that same smile as the evening before smeared across his face.

Dread crept through me, and my hands tightened on the reins. How long had he been standing there listening? Fear exploded through my veins. Morrighan. I tried to remember every word I’d said, but it was all a jumble—me trying to convince her I would never raid a tribe again, the despair in her eyes, the disappointment, my promises. But did I say her name? Did he hear me call her Morrighan?

What’s your name, girl? he had asked.

Why would Steffan care about a name unless he suspected? Unless he’d heard.

And the name Morrighan was of great worth—at least to one person—which made it valuable to Steffan too.

When I got back to camp, I jumped from my horse, not bothering to tether it. Laurida carried a child on her hip, letting it sip from a cup of broth.

“Where is Steffan?” I demanded.

She looked at