human hunter kept his head facing forward so he could not see the healer. She would not be the reason the woman’s secrets became common knowledge.
“So, Rowland threatened your family if you did not kill for him?” Sabrine demanded, once the man was secure.
“I would not kill our laird’s second. I meant only to wound him,” the young Connor claimed again, his sincerity an even more pungent scent than his fear.
“You think that makes your treason any more palatable?”
Defeat settled over the hunter with the pall of impending death. “You don’t understand. Rowland always gets what he wants.”
“I repeat, Rowland, that demon pig, will die this day.”
“If that happens, I will rejoice louder than anyone, but if it doesn’t, who will protect my father? He has no Chrechte strength. He is gaining in years.” Connor’s voice shook with his grief on his father’s behalf.
“I will not let anything happen to your father,” Sabrine found herself promising.
“How can you protect him? You are a woman.”
These clansmen. So ignorant. “I stopped you shooting Earc, didn’t I?”
“I’m not good at fighting. I would be good for nothing to this clan if I could not shoot an accurate line with my bow for hunting.”
“Is that what Rowland told you?” Sabrine asked, appalled by the cruel and demeaning words.
“Aye.”
“Well, he lies. Barr is training human men to protect the clan, too.” As any good laird should do.
“I heard it, but Rowland said it would make no difference. No human could ever best a Chrechte.”
“You did. By not shooting Earc, you’ve bested him.”
“But I would have shot him if you had not intervened.”
Sabrine nodded. She believed him. No matter how much Connor disliked the idea of wounding the other Chrechte at Rowland’s behest. Or his fear of the consequences. She knew what it was to sacrifice everything for family. The steady nearing of her younger brother’s coming of age ceremony had prompted her to infiltrate a clan redolent with Faol.
“Barr must be told of your collusion with Rowland.”
Connor’s head dropped, his chin settling against his chest in defeat. “I know.”
“I will speak on your behalf.”
“What can you say? You found me with my bow pointed toward his second. Will you allow me to watch the challenge? If I am to die for my treason, I would do it knowing Rowland was on his way to hell first.”
“You’ll not die this day.” She did not know how to accomplish that feat, but this boy was a result of the disease of hatred and fear Rowland had infected the Donegal clan with.
She was tempted to let the boy go after the challenge was over and simply not tell Barr about the aborted attempt to circumvent the challenge. On the other hand, doing so would feel like a betrayal of Barr. Sabrine could not make herself take that path.
“What is going on here?” Circin demanded as he arrived.
Verica jumped up, shifted into her raven and left in a swish of feathers.
Sabrine smiled. “I would not have known you were approaching, but for the sound you made through the forest.”
He had far to go before he was a warrior of Barr’s skill, but he had already made improvements since they met.
Circin looked at her and then looked away again, a burnished line appearing along his cheekbones. “What are you doing out here? Dressed like a male?”
Oh, for goodness sake. “You act as if you’ve never seen a woman’s legs before.”
“I haven’t.”
“How is that possible? I thought the Faol hunted together.”
“We do, but the females make their change before joining the men.”
This clan had taken on more of the human mores than others further north in the Highlands, at least from what her distant observations had revealed. Barr had certainly not shown any modest regard for his own nakedness.
“Your laird sent you searching for the assassin?” she asked rather than continue their unnecessary discussion of her clothing. If he was so disturbed, he could look at something besides her knees.
The laird in training nodded.
“Good.”
Of course, Circin would have been too late to prevent the arrow that might well have killed Earc. Still, she liked knowing the man doing such a fine job of claiming her heart was a cunning warrior.
“Connor?” Circin asked, his voice tinged with shocked unhappiness. “You were happier than any other when the king demanded Rowland step down from his place as laird.”
“The bastard threatened the boy’s father.”
Circin cursed.
He looked toward the sky, where Verica had disappeared to, and then back to Sabrine. “You know.”
She nodded but added