Dragon's Moon - By Lucy Monroe Page 0,78

are the only one I want to do so.”

He should not be so fiercely happy to hear such a vow, but he was. “You are young. That will change.”

“It won’t. I may not shift into a wolf, but I am Chrechte and there is no other for a Chrechte once they have mated.” Her chin set at a mulish angle and she let him see her glare.

“We have not mated.”

“Close enough.”

“No.” He’d been damn careful to make sure it was not close enough.

“Tell me why.”

“I was a member of the Donegal clan, before I went to live with the Éan.”

“You mean when you came to the Sinclairs?”

“No, that is more recent.” He considered stopping there. He had not spilled his people’s secrets yet, but he knew he could trust them with her. And he owed her his secrets, if he could give her nothing else.

“The Éan lived in the forest, as a separate tribe. We were hunted by a secret society of the Faol.”

“The Fearghall. My father and his cronies belong. He thinks any shifter that isn’t a wolf doesn’t deserve to live.”

Lais should feel no shock at her words, but his breath froze in his chest nonetheless. “Your father belongs to this society…the Fearghall?”

A misnomer if ever there was one as it meant superior in valor and from what Lais knew of these Faol, they had not true valor to them. He had never heard the society named before though, since he had not been in the inner circle. He wondered if Galen had ever let it slip to Ciara.

“Yes. Some of the Fearghall believe only the ravens should die because they are not birds of prey, but others, like my father, believe all who shift into an animal different than his have no right to life.”

“He’s an idiot.” But a dangerous one.

She nodded sadly. “He is.”

“I, too, was an idiot.” The time had come for the full truth of his past.

“How?”

“There were members of the Donegal pack that believed like your father. They hated the Éan simply because we are different.”

“I am sorry.”

“I am the one who should be sorry. I believed Rowland’s lies, that the ravens killed my parents.”

“But your parents must have been of the Éan for you to be an eagle.”

“One was, the other human. Rowland was convinced I was human as well. He killed my parents, but convinced me ravens had done it and fed my hatred of the ravens.”

“You never told him you were an eagle.”

“No.”

“Because you knew that you could not trust him.” She sounded so sure and once again her trust in Lais touched him deeply.

“I think so, now, yes. Then, I was just ashamed of being weak, being what I thought was the last of my race.”

“There are other eagles?”

“Not many, but yes, there are some. I had my coming-of-age without the Clach Gealach Gra.”

“What does that mean?”

“It meant that if I had my way and had destroyed it, I would not be a healer.” He looked away from her, over the water, its gray surface telling him nothing new. “I do not know if I can give my mate children, if I can pass on my eagle.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Anya-Gra said I was healed by the sacred stone, but I don’t know if she meant my heart or my body.”

“Who is Anya-Gra?”

“The spiritual leader among the Éan.”

“If the stone gave you the power of healing, surely it healed anything else.”

“I thought so at first, too, but now that I am charged with healing others, I know better than most that power comes with a cost and that healing is rarely complete with Chrechte power alone.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t deserve to be healed completely,” he admitted.

“Now you are being an idiot.”

“It’s true. I would have killed my laird’s lady.”

“The Donegal laird?”

“Aye.”

“She’s raven?”

“She is.”

“But you did not kill her.”

“I tried.”

“How?”

“With an arrow.”

“So, you are a poor shot.”

“No. I was one of the best in our clan.”

“Then you must not have tried very hard.”

’Twas what Barr had said at the time, but Lais would never forget his guilt. “In time, you will find a mate worthy of you and you will forget this crush you have on me.”

Mairi’s eyes narrowed. “Will I, then?”

He nodded, but she was no longer looking at him. Her brows were drawn together in thought and he was fairly certain it did not bode well for him.

The Balmoral soldiers had a small hut cleverly disguised by outer bracken, so one had to be almost upon it before seeing it was not

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