believe it was stolen by the Éan and that they hid it but have forgotten over the centuries where.”
“Faol like Wirp and Luag, you mean.”
Feeling chastised though Lais had not actually said anything against her, Ciara nodded. “Aye, men like that.”
“More like there never was a sacred stone for the wolves. What need would such powerful shifters have for extra gifts?”
The Faolchú Chridhe existed, but she wasn’t going to tell Lais so. Then she would have to explain how she knew and she was not ready yet to share that secret. When she did, she was determined to do so with the man who called her daughter.
’Twould only be right.
Eirik spun and kicked out, connecting solidly with the Sinclair’s thigh.
The Chrechte laird stumbled but did not go down. “You’ll teach that move to our soldiers.”
“Naturally.”
They spent each morning in mock combat with one another before training the Sinclair soldiers (human, Faol and Éan) together. Eirik had discovered the predator’s approach to fighting different than that of the raven. Both were effective, but together were devastating to their foe.
As even the most elite soldiers realized when they faced either their laird or the Éan prince in mock battle.
“Ciara has changed since you arrived.” The Sinclair’s fist connected with Eirik’s left shoulder.
Eirik went with it, lifting his right arm to block the next blow, but his movements were near as disjointed as his thoughts. He did his best to hide the temporary effect the laird’s words had on him with a practiced sequence of moves that ended with Eirik’s arm around the laird’s throat. “Having new members is bound to shake the clan up a little.”
“Aye.” Talorc broke Eirik’s hold with a sneaky move of his own. “But new blood, new ways, they can be good for our people.”
They fought in silence broken only by the sound of flesh hitting flesh for several minutes before finally breaking apart and facing one another in preparation for the next bout.
“Wouldn’t you agree?” the Sinclair asked.
And Eirik had to think quickly to remember the laird’s last words. “Yes.”
“Ciara’s change is particularly welcome.” Talorc gave Eirik a look he could not quite read.
“Good.” But Eirik did not think the laird would be as happy with the events of the night before.
The kiss that should not have happened, the sexual desire that had flared hotter than dragon’s fire between Eirik and Ciara.
The two warriors moved closer, circling each other. Eirik was watching for any opportunity as he knew Talorc was as well.
Finally, the Sinclair swept his foot out with a wolf’s speed to try to trip Eirik. “When Ciara came to live with us, she barely ate, spoke only occasionally and never, ever smiled.”
Eirik was no wolf though. He was not even purely raven. He was dragon. Jumping over the swiftly moving foot, he used the momentum to gain a short distance from the other warrior. Enough space to land a solid kick.
He kicked out with his right leg, while leaping forward to land an openhanded blow against Talorc’s head. “She seems fine now.”
The Sinclair avoided the kick and moved so that the blow was glancing, while bringing his own arm up toward Eirik’s chin. “She has nightmares and barely sleeps. She’s stopped eating again.”
The blow landed, knocking Eirik’s head back as the older man’s words sunk in. “And you claim she is doing better since my arrival?”
“Yes. The dreams and lack of sleeping started before you came; Abigail and I feared Ciara would become a ghost among us again, but she has not.” The laird stopped fighting in order to meet Eirik’s eyes. “Since her family’s deaths, Ciara has held her emotions so close, there are times she seems not to feel anything at all.”
“And yet you treat her as your daughter.”
“The first day she came into my keep and I looked in her eyes I saw pain unlike anything I had seen before. She hid it after that, but I never forgot it was there. She does not have to call me father for me to know I am hers. One day, she will realize this as well.”
Eirik felt regret for his words the night before, but the woman he knew was not lacking emotion at all. She was filled with anger. Toward him.
Perhaps it was time to tell Talorc the truth of Ciara’s brother’s death.
Ciara had lost her peaceful sanctuary on top of the towers, so she sought her next favorite place of solace—the forest. And solace she did need. She’d done her best