Moon Burning - By Lucy Monroe Page 0,39
too.
“She thinks you gave a deceiving wretch thirty minutes to plan your murder,” Verica answered with undisguised worry.
He liked knowing she was concerned for him, though it was not clear whether she cared if Earc died as much as whether that would leave her human friend at risk until Barr disposed of the self-admitted murderer.
There had been no lie in Sorcha’s voice when she claimed Rowland took responsibility for her husband’s death.
Regardless of the reasons behind his alluring mate’s worry, he sought to alleviate it. “I’ll not let that miserable pile of horse’s dung get the best of me.”
“Do you not think my father believed the same?” Verica’s distress had only intensified.
“Your father trusted him; no doubt he believed the other man’s Chrechte nature would keep him from deeds too foul against his own kind, and particularly against the leader of his pack.”
“He did.”
“I am not that naïve.”
“Do not die,” she ordered.
“I will not.”
She nodded, but said nothing more. He decided that if he was to kill the old buzzard he would do it with the taste of his mate on his tongue. He leaned down and kissed her. It was no gentle bussing of lips, but a full, claiming kiss—the woman needed to know that from this day forward, she was his.
Chapter 9
Sabrine stood outside the cottage, unnoticed as the old wolf stormed by.
Barr had told her to stay in his bed and rest. She’d waited until he’d made it down the stairs before following him.
She could not forget her purpose here among the Donegals. She had to find the Clach Gealach Gra and return it to her people before her brother’s coming of age ceremony. It only made sense she keep apprised of what was happening in the clan.
Eavesdropping on Barr arguing with the old bastard that used to lead this poor clan was clearly a must in that regard.
Without a word to anyone in the cottage, Barr came out the door. Sabrine made no effort to hide her presence.
He leaned against the outer wall of the small building, his huge arms crossed over a chest only partially covered by his plaid. “You do not listen well.”
He didn’t sound particularly bothered by that fact. In point of truth, if she could believe the evidence of her ears, he almost sounded pleased.
“I can listen.” She could even obey. When she agreed with the instructions.
“I’ve no doubt you can.”
“You will allow Earc to kill the evil one they call Rowland.”
“Aye.”
“Because he offended a Chrechte woman?”
“Because he admitted to killing a human male and mistreating a human female in a way no Chrechte should ever do.”
It was not what she had expected him to say, but then his words raised another concern. Her heart wanted to believe Barr was different from other Faol, but her mind rejected an easy dismissal of a lifetime of teaching. “So, his offense toward Verica does not matter, because you now know she had a raven mother.”
Barr’s brow furrowed for a moment as he did a very good impression of a man who did not know what she was talking about. And then understanding dawned, his face clearing, and a new certainty settled over his features.
“You are a raven.” Pride in his deductive reasoning rang through his voice, though he spoke quietly so even a Chrechte would have difficulty hearing. “Verica’s mother was raven.”
“Rowland already told you that.” But she finally realized Barr had not believed the old man, had perhaps thought his words no more than a figure of speech.
Regret for revealing Verica’s heritage, if not her dual-shifting nature, pricked Sabrine.
Wonder filled his gray gaze. “I thought the Éan were mere myth.”
He really had. Nothing but truth and wonder came from him. How could this be?
“The Faol hate the Éan.” All bird Chrechte knew this. Even Verica and Circin made obvious efforts to hide their raven natures. “Your people have done your best to destroy mine since long before the Faol joined the human clans.”
“Chrechte are a warlike people. We all fought amongst ourselves until the packs were dying out. We joined the human clans, agreeing to cease hostilities amongst ourselves.” He said it as if giving a child a history lesson.
She bristled. She knew the wolves’ history, but their joining the humans did not change their need to kill the Éan. “The Faol never stopped murdering my people.”
“But we don’t even know you exist.”
“Your pack may not.” Though how that could be, she was uncertain. “But others do.”
“I would have heard something.”
She shook her