Chapter 36 #2
Cathal, who’s scarcely said two sentences since he and the others joined us, pauses to survey the area before swinging himself from the saddle.
He’s as much a warrior as the others—strong-muscled and fierce-looking, with dark hair braided close at the top before it falls in a glossy curtain below his shoulders.
His grey-blue eyes are a stark contrast against his deep brown skin, and the way they absorb everything around him seems more thoughtful than tactical.
A row of glowing runes begins at each temple and follows a shaved line above his ears before disappearing beneath his hair at the back.
“We should at least try to look for something more suitable than this place,” Sean says to me, making no effort to get off his horse. “At the very least, it’s only prudent to scout the area. But if you and the woman are too tired, the rest of us can go alone.”
Nothing in Chyr’s expression overtly changes, but I know him well enough by now to catch the chill in his eyes that says he’s holding himself in check. “This is your last warning, Sean. No more digs. No more disrespect.”
“Or what?” Sean leans in. His massive forearm is braced across the pommel of his saddle.
Chyr lifts his hand, palm out, and a blast of air knocks Sean from the saddle.
Sean lands hard, and Chyr is on him before he can stand, driving a bruising punch to Sean’s throat. Sean falls back, gasping for breath, eyes wide.
Silence thickens like a mist. The burn chatters over stone, and the wind stirs the rushes and willow leaves.
Chyr straightens and looks down at Sean with terrifying calm.
“I know this past year—especially the past two weeks—has reopened old wounds for you. And I’m sorry to see you in so much pain.
But you need to set that aside. You’re too good a Rider—too good a man—to let what happened almost two millennia ago cloud your judgement. ”
“You want me to ‘set it aside’? How the fuck do I do that? Why would I want to?” Sean kicks to his feet in one fluid motion.
Chyr doesn’t give an inch. He presses a finger into Sean’s chest. “Why should you want to? Because you have a job, Sean. You took oaths, and being a Rider is about justice—not revenge. Have you lost sight of the difference between enemies and friends?”
Sean points at me. “That woman is not your friend. She’s your destruction. And if you don’t see that by now, then she’ll destroy the rest of us along with you.”
It’s too much emotion, too much anger, and I can’t bear to listen to any more. I strip off Eira’s saddle and exchange her bridle for a halter and rope, then walk her around the back of the fallen tree behind the screen of clustered, thin-trunked hazel trees furred in moss and lichen.
It’s almost a taunt from the gods that we’re in a hazel wood. Hazel is the tree of knowledge, and eating hazelnuts is said to grant wisdom. The Mother only knows I could use a bit of that. All of us could.
I don’t know how Chyr keeps his calm—because what he did with Sean just now, and what he did back in the cavern with Daire and Lorcan, is a form of calm. He saw his men coming apart and reeled them back in with the blend of violence and kindness that they needed in that moment.
“Are you all right?” Ronan’s voice startles me, and I find he has moved up beside me so quietly I didn’t notice.
“Compared to what?” I ask.
He grins. “Fair. But Sean is—” He sighs, and I suspect that’s because Sean has already shown me who he is.
“The Riders can overwhelm me sometimes, and I go off on my own somewhere quiet. To the woods more often than not. This is a good place to get away, if that’s what you need.
But I’d like to come with you—for protection, nothing else. You can pretend I’m not here.”
My smile is reluctant, which has nothing to do with him. “I don’t mind your company, Ronan.”
“You don’t?” His eyes light up. “I’m not usually good with people.”
On impulse, I stand on my toes and kiss his cheek. “Rua likes you. Animals have better taste than people do.”
Ronan tips his head. His grin widens, and walking there in the hazel wood, I realise that both his eyes and his hair are the colour of hazelnut shells.
Having confirmed that there is enough space to spread the horses out behind the screen of hazel trees, I turn back towards the burn to let Eira drink while I collect bent-grass for fodder.
“What happened to Sean’s sisters?” I ask.
Ronan’s footsteps falter as he paces along beside me. “I’m not good at those sorts of stories,” he says. “Anyway, it would give you nightmares.”
I have enough images in my head already without adding more, so I don’t press him.
I tie Eira where she can reach the water, and Ronan and I harvest armloads of the thick, tufted grass that grows beside the burn.
He helps me carry it back to the sheltered area behind the hazel.
When I return to take Bramble down to the burn, I find that Chyr and the others have tented blankets over the oak trunk and a frame of woven hazel stems. Crushed bracken fronds soften the ground near the upended root plate, and another plaid is laid on top of that.
“That’s for you,” Niall says, running a hand gruffly through his pale, close-shorn hair and looking down at the plaid as though he’s embarrassed to look at me. “There’s room for two more there, so you can choose who’ll make you least uncomfortable.”
“I’ve spent the most time with Chyr and Ronan,” I say, weighing my words carefully. “But I’m not the only one who’s uncomfortable. I’ll take two more horses down to drink and leave it for you to decide among yourselves.”
“Is Ronan going with you?” Chyr asks, glancing from me to Ronan and back again.
“I can,” Ronan says. “But I should hunt.”
The two of them exchange a glance, then Ronan peels away to pick up his bow and quiver, and Chyr takes two of the Riders’ horses while I lead Bramble and another mare. Eira nickers as she hears us coming, and we quickly rub the horses down while they drink, then gather more grass for forage.
Chyr slides worried glances my way when he thinks that I’m not looking, but he doesn’t push me to talk. I’m grateful to him for that.
It isn’t until after we’ve taken care of the horses and left them all tied with plenty to eat that he catches my elbow and turns me to face him. A muscle tics in his jaw, but his honeyed eyes soften as he searches my face.
“You’re worried,” he says. “More than yesterday. If it’s about Sean, I promise he won’t hurt you.”
“It’s not that,” I say, though that’s part of it.
“We’re even more behind, and it’s my fault.
It will take time to find enough boats to carry us and the horses, and half of Vheara’s armada lies between us and Muilean.
And if we can’t bring the horses over, there’s no chance that we’ll be able to cross to the sacred place on time.
And where would we leave the horses so that they’ll be safe? I can’t lose Bramble and Eira, too.”
“Flora.” Chyr bends his knees so that our eyes are level, and I’m forced to look at him. “I understand that you don’t want to think about the Crown of Moonlight, but this is life or death. You have to be prepared to choose a Rider.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” I hate that my voice cracks and comes out too small, too soft.
Chyr presses on as if he has to get the words out. “Ronan is a safe choice. He’d be good to you. Both Niall and Fergal would be as well. Cathal less so, but more from neglect than any intent to harm you.”
The way he watches me breaks my heart. I can feel all the things that I want to say to him pressed into a hard lump in my chest.
What would he say to me if his oaths would let him?
He lets his head tip forward to rest his forehead against mine, and he clasps my hand and places it against his heart.
“You have to pick someone, Flora.”
“I know,” I whisper. “But if I can’t choose you, how can I?”