Moon Burning - By Lucy Monroe Page 0,84

live in the trees, some live in caves.”

Not primitively as they had done in generations past, but much the same as the Chrechte now living among the clans lived in their huts. With cooking fires, food stored for winter, furs to sleep on and even simply designed tables and benches. Not that the hand carving in the wood of the furniture was simple, particularly for those of the royal lineage.

“And there are both ravens and eagles?”

Again, Sabrine made herself answer. Verica deserved to know about her people, even if she would never live among them. “There were hawks once as well; none have been seen since before my grandmother’s time though.”

“Is she still alive?”

“She is the oldest of the Éan.” A spiritual leader, her grandmother had been disappointed when Sabrine chose to follow the path of the warrior. A strict adherent to Chrechte traditions and spiritual truths, Anya-Gra would be furious to know her granddaughter planned to abandon her true mate. Maybe even angrier than Barr. “She and I do not see the world through the same eyes.” And that knowledge made something in her chest hurt as it always did when Sabrine thought of it.

“That is difficult.” Verica’s warm tone was filled with understanding and compassion. Would she feel the same when she knew Sabrine intended to leave the Donegals and their laird?

“Yes.”

“Is that why you were looking so unhappy when I came in? You were thinking of your grandmother?”

“No.” Now that Barr had sent the elder Chrechte to live with their families, rather than in the keep as they had done with Rowland, it was safer to discuss more things openly.

However, she wasn’t taking any chances. Sabrine opened her senses, seeking anyone nearby enough to hear their conversation.

There was no one. Not even the tiny heartbeat of a rodent betrayed that small presence.

They could have had this conversation in mindspeak, but Sabrine worried her control was slipping. She’d been giving too much away when she and Barr communicated through their mental link. She did not want to risk doing the same with Verica.

“Do you know about the coming of age ceremony for our people?” Sabrine asked.

Verica had told her there were no other Éan left in the clan. She and her brother were the last of the ravens since their mother’s death. Presumably, their Faol nature made it possible for them to procreate without the coming of age ceremony and at least pass their wolf nature on to the next generation.

Verica nodded, an odd expression coming over her features almost as if she’d had a disturbing revelation. Certainly she had become far more agitated than the question warranted, unless she had not had the ceremony performed for her coming of age. But no, she must have because she had her special Éan gift, a powerful one of prescience no less.

Verica licked her lips, her hands wringing the pleats from her plaid. “My mother performed it for me and I did it for Circin.”

“In the caves of the sacred springs?”

“Aye.” Verica’s eyes filled with an inexplicable fear and a sickly cast came over her features.

“The Faol have stolen the Clach Gealach Gra.” Though perhaps the other woman already knew this and that explained her upset. “Without it, our people will die out as those who have not laid their hands on the Clach Gealach Gra during their coming of age ceremony will not be able to pass our Éan gifts on to the next generation, including the raven or eagle nature itself.”

Legend had it that there had been a sacred stone for each of the bird families, the eagle, the raven and the hawk. But only one remained and with it gone, so was the hope of the Éan race.

“I didn’t mean to . . .” Verica’s words trailed off, her agitation growing and a profound sense of regret more than matching it. Then she grabbed Sabrine’s hand. “Come, please. You must come with me.”

Chapter 18

Jerking Sabrine to her feet with desperation-driven strength, Verica dragged her up the stairs and into the room the healer now shared with Earc. She rushed to the chest where she had kept her grandmother’s weapons and flung open the lid.

Not usually stupid, or willfully blind, Sabrine felt things begin to fall into place. The Éan power she felt whenever she was in Verica’s room, which she had attributed to Verica’s powerful Éan gift and the ancient Éan magic clinging to the sword and dagger she’d cared for so carefully.

Before the other woman drew