many will be touched by its power. My turn will come, later or sooner, but it will come. I must be allowed to accompany you on this quest because such is in my dreams. If God gives you a vision, do you cut out the bits that are not convenient or logical and expect the vision to come to pass?”
Eirik shook his head at the warm approval in Lais’s eyes for Mairi’s words. The man had it bad, but it was no excuse for condoning the human woman’s disrespectful tone.
Ciara’s glare directed at Eirik was even more unwelcome, however, and he arched one brow in question. What had he done?
“Answer her,” Ciara demanded.
Eirik opened his mouth to lambast both women for their disrespect and then repeated Mairi’s words in his head and decided she had some reason for her acerbic tone. “I have never had a vision. I would not know.”
“I have,” Mairi said. “More importantly, my mother taught me the importance of paying attention to every tiny aspect to these special dreams. If she had, she would still be alive.”
“If my brother had listened to me about all the points of my dream, I believe we would have found the Faolchú Chridhe by now.” Ciara frowned up at Eirik as if it were his fault.
As far as he was concerned, that particular failing was for the best. “It is good that he did not then.”
Ciara flinched at his words and damned if he did not have to fight the desire to comfort her, but the slight incline of her head acknowledged their truth.
“We will fly to Balmoral Island tonight.”
Chapter 12
All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them.
—GALILEO GALILEI
“You intend Ciara to ride on your dragon?” the Sinclair asked.
“Aye. Ciara has proven herself an adept rider.” And Eirik’s dragon wanted her to ride again, craved it like the beast had shown desire for nothing else.
Lais scowled, his blond brows beetled. “You would have my…Mairi ride your dragon as well?”
“You could take her across on a boat,” Eirik offered, expecting Lais to refuse.
An eagle preferred to fly.
Besides, the ride to where the Sinclairs kept their boats for the crossing combined with the crossing itself would take several hours longer than direct flight. Even if the eagle was considerably slower than a dragon in the sky.
But Lais nodded rapidly. “’Tis a sound idea, that.”
It was a daft idea, but since Eirik was the one to recommend it, even expecting it to be dismissed, he refused to withdraw his words now.
“I will accompany Lais and Mairi in the boat.” Ciara sounded far too pleased at that option.
Eirik and her adopted father both said, “No,” at the same time.
Surprised that the vehemence in the laird’s tone matched his own, Eirik let the other man explain it to his daughter.
“But why not?” Ciara asked just as Eirik had expected her to.
“From the moment you leave this keep and until you return to it with the Faolchú Chridhe, you will not leave the dragon shifter’s side.”
Ah, the man wanted Ciara protected at all costs. ’Twas understandable. Not only was she the laird’s daughter but she was princess of the Faol. The Faolchú Chridhe would be of limited use to their people without one of her blood to bring forth its full power.
“It is a matter of your safety,” Abigail said to her daughter. “Please do as your father asks.”
Ciara’s eyes filled and she nodded without another word. Her love for her adopted family at least was not in question.
No one commented on the Sinclair’s muttering that, “’Twas not a request.”
There was little Ciara needed for her journey to the Balmoral holding.
Laird Lachlan, her adopted uncle, would provide for all their needs on his island, but where their journey would take them after that, she did not know. Best to be prepared.
She attached a purse made of the Sinclair tartan and lined with leather to the chain she wore around her hips. Inside was a small knife, used mostly for paring vegetables but useful in other circumstances as well. She’d also packed a handkerchief, a packet of herbs to make a tea both good for calming and to pour over a small wound for cleansing, and her last memento of her brother, his ring.
Under the sleeve of her blouse, Ciara wore the arm circlet of bronze her father had given her mother on their wedding day. She only took it off to shift. The etched image of two wolves