Page 64 of Connal

The slash on her side had already begun to heal, but Fiacail had grown so drained of strength she could barely lug the dead back into the farmhouse. A faint cry made her look around the front room until she spotted a cradle near the hearth. Another, softer sound came from one of the back rooms. She went to the cradle first, and drew back the blanket covering the tiny bairn inside.

“’Tis newly born,” Speal said as she joined her. “Now that the mam’s dead, ’twill starve. I’ll snap the neck.”

Fiacail caught her hand before she could. “We’ve slain enough mortals for one day.” She reached in and picked up the infant, holding it against her shoulder as she stroked its back to calm it. “Look in the kitchens. I heard something. Don’t kill that, either.”

Speal went to the back of the house, and returned holding a very young maid by the back of her dirty gown. She looked half-starved, and bore the yellow-brown bruises of an old beating. Yet when she saw Fiacail holding the bairn she surged forward, her thin arms reaching out for the child.

“Please, mistress,” the maid begged. “Dinnae harm him. He’s but threeday old.”

She knew she should end them both, but a distant scream came then from the direction of the barn. It reminded her of that long ago day when the blacksmith had taken his sledge to her for daring to heal overnight. Before that she had always wished for better, a man to love and care for her, and bairns she would never starve, strike or terrify.

That gentle, wistful girl had been beaten out of Fiacail.

Without thinking greatly of what she did, she placed the baby in the maid’s arms. “Take him and run. Go as far as you may. Say naught of what happened here, for if any more come, we shall slay them as we did your master and his kin. Then we shall hunt for you and the bairn, do you understand?”

The maid nodded frantically, and rushed out of the house holding the baby against her flat chest.

“Sometime I wonder if you’re more mortal than Fae, Fia,” Speal said. “Our princess shallnae thank you for releasing them.”

“Tell her, and after she rips off my head she shall name you in charge of the Cait Sith.” She saw her sister’s grimace and nodded. “Aye, ’tisnae a place anyone desires take from me. So, then, forget what you saw.”

When Fiacail emerged from the house she looked for the maid, but saw no sign of her. She saw the girl’s boot prints in the dirt, however, and deliberately walked over them to destroy the tracks before she headed to the barn.

Valerie hadn’t slept while being held captive, Connal guessed, for as soon as they boarded the ferry she fell asleep in his arms. He took her to a quiet spot near the stern, where MacLeir kept piles of blankets for his passengers, and lay her on them. As he covered her with his cloak the ferryman trudged by, glancing at Valerie before he winked and went to releasing the moorings.

After a time Shaw came to stand at the railings beside him.

“That fiendish creature that chased you from the house, ’twas Derdrui?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“I reckon.” Once they returned to Dun Ard he would tell his chieftains and captains all he had learned this day, Connal thought, including the reason Joana had died. For now he simply wanted to watch over Valerie. “I think the enchantress, she’s come to the mortal realm to hunt the clan again.”

“Those things that serve her, they’re strong as ten men and fight like wounded animals,” the chieftain said. “Half-Fae like us, I’ll wager.”

MacLeir stopped and handed them a hastily-written note before heading for the bow.

“Cait Sith, ’tis the name of Derdrui’s warriors,” Connal said after he read the ferryman’s message. “They share blood with the Fae Therion, and may assume the shape of any mortal whom they slay.”

Shaw’s expression turned bleak. “You’re certain you rescued the true Mistress Baker?”

MacLeir, who was now coming back from the bow, stopped and glared at him before tapping the side of his nose.

“Those things cannae conceal their smell from other half-Fae, eh?” When the ferryman nodded Connal smiled. “I ken she’s the woman I love, no’ some halfling shifter in her form. Aside from my acquaintance with every inch of her, even battered and bloody, she yet smells of a new spring day.”

The chieftain sighed. “We need take care, then, with anyone who leaves and returns to Caladh. No’ MacLeir, for ’twould take a god like his sire to end him, but the mortals he ferries to the mainland.”

Connal noticed Valerie stirring, and sent Shaw to help the ferryman before going to her. As he knelt down beside her she blinked at him with her unbruised eye.

“I’m sorry.” She yawned as she pushed herself upright.

“Sleep,” Connal told her. “We’ve no’ yet arrived.”

“I’ve slept enough,” she said, then looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. “I really have.” A smile crept across her face. “After a year of almost never sleeping.” Her gaze went to the water beyond the rail. “Did the men look for Jamaran before we left?”

“The Finfolk commander returned to the island this morn, wounded but alive,” he told her. “’Twas he who told us you’d been taken on the mainland.”

“Oh, good. Not that he’s hurt, but I was hoping he wasn’t dead.” She ducked her head and swiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry I ran away. I thought it was best for both of us, but instead I almost got you and your men killed.”

“Our men.” He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. “Like me, they’re yours now.”