Ignoring the looks of censure he received from the others, Lais helped Ciara onto the back of Eirik’s extra mount. It was the only horse well trained enough that he had no worries about it dumping the obviously shaky woman on the ground.
“I am Lais. I don’t know if you remember me, but I was once a Donegal as well, Ciara.”
“You know my name.” Ciara searched his features until her green gaze glimmered with recognition. “You are here with the Éan? But you were a friend of Rowland’s. Of Wirp’s.”
“I was never their friend.” Though he’d been misled into believing himself so at one time.
She pondered that for a moment and then nodded ever so slightly. “Like my brother, you were deceived.”
“Yes.” Which was why, of all the Éan, he was probably the only one who would understand Ciara’s defense of a man who had stood by while Chrechte children were threatened.
He was also one of the few Chrechte, maybe the only other one besides himself, who knew the toll that day in the forest had taken on Eirik’s soul. And how much Ciara’s accusations would have bothered the prince.
“Do you remember my brother?” Ciara asked softly.
“I did not know him well. He spent most of his time with Luag, some with Wirp.”
“Yes.”
“He would have mated you to Luag.” And a damn shame it would have been. Luag had been a sadistic, honorless man who did not deserve the wolf that shared his soul.
“You can’t know that.” But Ciara’s tone said she knew the truth of it, just as Lais did. The scent of grief and sadness coming off of her told their own story.
Wishing he had not reminded her of her brother’s other failings, Lais said, “You never told anyone of the dragon.”
“No.”
“How did you explain your brother and Luag’s disappearance?”
“I told everyone Luag had led Galen into harm’s way and caused both their deaths. It was the truth and the Chrechte of our clan could scent it. I masked the deceit in my scent when I told them I had built my own pyres and burned them as is right and true.”
“You can do that?”
“Yes.”
“That’s unheard of.”
“Others in my family had similar talents.”
He did not doubt it, but he could not help being glad her brother was dead. A wolf who hated the Éan but had the ability to mask a lie? He could have wreaked havoc in a way even Rowland could not have competed with.
“Your prince did kill my brother.”
“But he did not murder him.”
She did not answer, but her lack of argument said it all.
“How did you know he is our prince?”
“How could he be anything else?” Ciara asked in a tone that said she doubted his intelligence but he should not doubt hers.
Lais laughed. “You’re an arrogant little thing, aren’t you?”
“I don’t mean to be.”
“With eyes as green as yours, I always suspected you and your mother were descendant of the Faol royalty.”
“MacAlpin killed all the royals of our line.”
“Only those counted by matriarchy.”
“It does not matter; the Sinclair recognizes Scotland’s king. To be royalty among the Faol can have no meaning.”
After seeing what the royal family of the Éan did for their people, Lais wasn’t sure he agreed. Besides, Scotland’s king had less sway in the Highlands than with the Lowland clans. “Laird Sinclair only submits to King David when he wants to.”
“He is a Highland laird and Chrechte as well.” Ciara gave Lais an almost-there smile. “How could it be any other way?”
He chuckled. “It could not.”
“And your prince? Does he intend to submit to Laird Talorc?” There was very real worry tingeing her tone now.
“As clan leader, yes.”
“As pack leader?”
“Only wolves belong to packs. Birds are flocks and ours knows no clan boundaries.”
“That won’t be easy.”
“Eirik is aware.” Anya-Gra had not let the prince forget it, voicing her concerns right up until the Éan left the forest, each of three groups taking a different direction.
“Why don’t you call him prince?”
“Because I am his friend.”
Ciara recoiled.
Lais sighed. “Eirik is no murderer.”
“That is your opinion.”
“It is yours as well, when you are thinking clearly.”
“Thank you for telling me my innermost thoughts.”
“I understand wanting to believe those you hold dear are good people…and having to accept when you realize they were not.”
“My brother was a good person. He was deceived.”
“Do you enjoy your life among the Sinclairs?” he asked, refusing to continue such an argument.
She might well be right. He knew what it was to be deceived. Would her brother have shifted his