“Is love the desire to be with you and no other? To protect you from all harm? The willingness to both kill and die for you? The need to touch whenever we are near? The desire to keep your heart as well as your body for as long as we both draw breath? If this is love, then I love you.”
“I will marry you.” Then she burst into tears.
He didn’t mind. The joy coming off of her was a heady fragrance to Lais’s eagle’s senses.
He decided that vow needed sealing with a kiss. And so he did.
In the end, Boisin sent word to his laird via one of his many grandchildren, and the priest met them in the clearing outside the Balmoral pack’s sacred caves. He spoke his blessing over Lais and Mairi before being accompanied by two warriors back to the castle.
The Balmoral then led the way inside the caves to the Chrechte remaining. Lais held Mairi’s hand, his heart full and her scent happy after speaking their vows. The others joined in a circle around them. Artair and Gart, who had accompanied their laird from the castle, the Balmoral and his family, Boisin and one of his grandsons, though clearly too young to be the one the elder had used as threat.
The Balmoral performed the Chrechte rite of mating and marriage, prompting Lais and Mairi to speak vows even more binding than those the priest had done.
Afterward, Lais claimed his new mate and wife with yet another kiss that was most satisfying.
Ciara smiled mistily at the couple still kissing.
Boisin chuckled. “Now, that’s how we let our mates know of our interest back in my day. Will you walk with me for a minute? the boy asked.” The old man shook his head, but then turned serious and faced Eirik. “Draw the Faol king’s sword, if you please.”
Eirik gave Ciara a questioning glance and she nodded.
He pulled the sword from its sheath and laid it across his hands as he’d done in her bedchamber.
Boisin motioned to Ciara. “Take the handle, one hand above the other.”
Remembering what had happened the last time she’d touched it, Ciara hesitated.
Boisin patted her shoulder. “Do not fear the visions, lass. They will lead you to the stone.”
She nodded, bit her lip and did as the elder had instructed, taking the handle of the sword and moving it so the tip pointed toward the rocky floor of the sacred cave. The handle grew hot against her palms immediately.
“Lend her your strength, dragon,” Boisin instructed.
And Eirik’s arms came around Ciara, his heat surrounding her like a blanket of safety, his hands curving over hers, promising strength if hers gave out. Peace stole over her and she relaxed against him.
Trusting her mate to keep her safe, her eyes drifted shut.
“Can you feel the presence of the stone in these caves?” Boisin asked her as if from the end of a tunnel.
She thought about it, letting her wolf connect to the spirit of the stone through her grasp on the sword. “I feel the presence of Chrechte magic.” Profound magic. “But not the stone.”
“Good. For it does not reside here,” Boisin said in that strangely distant voice again. “Now allow your spirit to seek it. Do not fear whatever may come. You are safe in the arms of your dragon mate.”
She was safe, more safe than she had ever been. She could let the visions come and they would not harm her, nor anyone she loved.
She did as Boisin said, letting her senses seek outward as far as they would go in search of the Faolchú Chridhe. And between one breath and the next, she was in the cavern again, with the aged kelle.
The woman did not look through her this time, but met her gaze with eyes the same shade of deep green. “You are the one.”
No time or inclination for false modesty, Ciara dipped her head in acknowledgment.
“I am glad. There is both strength and goodness in your heart.”
“Thank you.”
“I am sorry for the years the dreams have beset you.”
“They are not your fault.”
“They are.” The old woman frowned, looking guilty but resolute. “I prevented you from finding the stone until you had a worthy protector.”
Galen had been her protector when the dreams started. “My brother was not worthy.”
“He was deceived by the Fearghall. He wanted to believe himself superior, as your father did.”
Chapter 22
Among all the kinds of serpents, there is none comparable to the