To Ride A Púca (32 page)

“It’s time. The Danes are advancin’,” he said.

Anger, fear, excitement, and so many other things rushed in on her, making her feel dizzy. The world blurred and swayed. Arms out, Bren moved forward, but she took a step back out of his reach. His face fell with disappointment and slowly his arms lowered. The distasteful idea of his roving hands upon her kept her from feeling any guilt. No meant no, he had to learn that, and she was out of patience from trying to teach it to him.

“I kind of figured that’s what it was about,” she said.

“Yer parents went to the meetin’.” It was more of a statement than a question.

She walked over to the water trough and sat down on the edge of it, Bren close behind her. He hesitated to sit beside her and she didn’t encourage him. The way he looked at her like he was drinking her in for the last time made her sick to her stomach. This was really happening. It was time.

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to make ye feel like property. And I didn’t mean to come off as a jealous sod,” he said.

He hovered over her, no doubt waiting for her to look up at him. But she refused to.

“Well, ye did, on both counts, and ye didn’t respect me boundaries,” she said, not feeling particularly forgiving at the moment.

Meeting Donal and feeling drawn to him so instantly, made her feel as though she’d betrayed Bren in some way. But then, the courting with Bren hadn’t exactly been going well. And she had a bad feeling that if they had laid together he’d have lost interest and be long gone by now. Especially if it hadn’t caused them to bond like he said he hoped it would.

“I care about ye, Neala,” Bren said.

She didn’t respond, she couldn’t. Bren was the first boy to ever show her any attention that was positive and she had been swept away by the romance of it. But now she didn’t know if her feelings for him had been imagined or not. And his intentions were certainly questionable.

He took a step back. “Ye don’t feel the same way. It’s the Dane isn’t it? Ye have feelin’s for him,” he said.

The pain in his eyes cut her.

“I care about both ye and Tyr, but beyond that I don’t know yet. I’m sorry I can’t give ye the answer ye want yet,” she said, deciding to leave the part about Donal out for now.

Moisture shined in his eyes but he banished it with a few blinks and gave her a smile that made her breath catch. He was handsome for sure, there was no denying that. But good looks alone weren’t going to win her heart.

Bren’s horse stuck its big nose in Neala’s face. Laughing, she petted him and then pushed him away, thankful for his interference.

“Who does he belong to?” she asked.

“Me. I bought him today. I’m going to need him,” Bren said.

Neala scratched the big horse’s arched neck. “What do ye need a work horse for?” she asked.

That serious look came over Bren again. “He’s not a work horse. He’s a war horse.”

The day suddenly seemed a lot cooler. Neala recalled the feel of stabbing that man in the leg, the way the dagger had slid in until it met resistance. It had felt both horrible and good. She was going to have to do that again, and much worse. If she didn’t do it people she cared about were going to die.

“We have to go. The druid fianns are meetin’ at sunset,” Bren said.

Chances were good that she could attend the meeting and be back by moonrise to meet up with her parents. They could come up with a plan then.

“I’ll get me sword.”

29

They gathered in the forest, thirty druids strong, and an uncountable number of fairies and brownies. The small creatures scurried under foot and fluttered through the air. Even they had come prepared for battle. They were clothed in armor and carried tiny weapons. Seeing the forest creatures so concerned was a sobering moment for Neala. They weren’t playing at warrior anymore.

The Rectors went over scenario after scenario, doing their best to cover every contingency. There were a lot more Danes than druids and that seriously limited their battle options. People talked about whether or not to ask the non-druid members of the clans for help. Liam and Irial stood atop the log and spoke in favor of asking for help. There was a lot of arguing. Neala watched Kyla pace back and forth, cursing as she did so. Cian  tried to calm her down but it wasn’t working. Neala found herself avoiding contact with Bren and wishing Donal was there.

As if her wish had summoned him, she felt the pull of his power. Turning around, she saw him step out of the trees, concealed in a hooded cloak that was the color of the forest. She stood when he approached, drawing the attention of her entire Order and few of the people seated around them. Thankfully most people were too engaged in their own heated discussions to care.

Taking a protective stance beside her, Bren rested a hand upon the hilt of his sword.

“Who the hell are ye?” he demanded.

Donal stepped beside Neala. She moved closer to him, partially because she didn’t like Bren’s tone, and partially because she couldn’t help it.

“I’m a friend of Neala’s,” Donal said.

Bren turned an accusing gaze upon her, the weight of his angry power heavy behind it. “Since when do ye have a slave as a friend?” he demanded.

The urge to slap Bren was almost too much to fight. Her power lashed out and she barely stopped it before it burned him.

“He. Is. Not. A. Slave,” she said, biting off every word in her effort to hold back her power.

She was beyond sick and tired of people calling Donal that. And coming from Bren of all people, she couldn’t take it. Pushing through the front of her power, wincing at the pain it caused, Bren got within a few feet of her. Anger contorted his features, and something else; possession.

“Then what is he to ye, Neala?” he demanded.

Thrown for a loop, she opened her mouth to reply but could only stammer out a response. “I…I…” she wanted to say that she didn’t know, but she did, and the realization scared her.

Green and red energy snapped around Bren. Donal’s dark green energy responded by pouring out and merging with Neala’s, taking her breath away. Her and Donal’s combined energy pushed back at Bren’s, forcing both it and him to retreat.

“What the…” Bren’s brow furrowed deep and his hand tightened on his sword hilt. “Are ye two
bonded
?” he twisted the last word as if it were dirty.

From her spot on a fallen log, Ciara stood and stared in wonder at Donal and Neala. “By the Tuátha, ye are. I knew there was somethin’ special about ye,” she said, giving Donal a smile.

Bren’s eyes snapped in Ciara’s direction, shooting a glare at her. “Ye knew about him? How long has this been goin’ on?”

To his credit, Donal remained silent, standing at Neala’s side, though his power vibrated with tension.

Thrusting her chin up, Neala said, “A few days. He was a friend of me brother’s, he fought with him up north.”

Lip curling back from his teeth in a snarl, Bren let out a snort. “A few days? Ye bonded with him after a few days. Ye slut!”

His words sliced at both her heart and her pride. The urge to defend herself, to argue and explain they hadn’t lain together, rose within her, but she fought it. She didn’t owe him an explanation and he was an arse for jumping to conclusions.

The power surrounding her heated with rage and she caught hold of Donal’s arm a moment before he lunged at Bren. Exerting a huge amount of her power, she was able to stop him, but just barely. His power wouldn’t be denied though, it shot out from him and slammed into Bren, knocking him to the ground.

“I am sick and tired of people speakin’ ill of Neala. It stops, now,” Donal said in a voice that shook with his power.

Conversations around them started dropping off and people started to stare. The intensifying crackle of Donal’s energy made the skin on the back of Neala’s neck crawl. Unable to get her hand around one of his huge biceps, she wrapped her arm around it, hoping it would deter him. Her power danced along his as if drawn across it. Slowly, his muscles relaxed and he breathed easier.

An entirely different power washed over all of them, soothing the anger and hurt feelings that burned within Neala, and calming everyone around her. Behind that power came Liam. He bent and grabbed hold of Bren, hauling him to his feet.

“He shouldn’t have said it. Should ye have, Bren?” Liam said. Though there was no anger in his tone, there was warning in his eyes.

Head dropping, Bren cowed at Liam’s side. “
Níl
Rector, I shouldn’t have.”

“And?” Liam pressed.

“And I’m sorry,” Bren said.

Liam threw an arm around Bren’s shoulders. “I hope ye’ll forgive him, see he fancies yer lass there,” Liam said to Donal.

Head darting up, Bren shot Donal a hate-filled glare. “She isn’t his,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Liam patted Bren’s shoulder, whether in warning or to comfort him, it was hard to tell.

“I’m sorry me friend, but their power says differently,” he said.

Power spiking, Bren tried to shake off Liam’s arm and failed. “They can’t be bonded. He isn’t a druid, at least he doesn’t feel like it,” he said.

Tension rang through Donal’s power, setting Neala’s teeth on edge. Why couldn’t everyone just leave this alone for now? They had bigger issues to deal with.

“
Níl
, I’m not a druid,” Donal admitted.

Jerking against Liam’s hold on him—and failing to break free—Bren bared his teeth at Donal. “Then what are ye?”

Donal turned his full attention on Neala. The sadness in his eyes stirred a powerful need in her to protect him.

“I didn’t want to tell ye like this,” he nearly whispered.

“Then ye don’t have to,” she said.

He leaned his head against hers and she heard Bren let out an almost feral sound. Though it tore at her heart to know she had caused Bren to feel that way, she ignored him. He was being a possessive, single-minded arse and that was worse than the pain she’d caused him. But Donal’s eyes shifted in Bren’s direction then went on to meet the gaze of every one of her Order members.

“They deserve to know as well. Ye are a part of them,” Donal said.

Neala’s eyes flicked around at the crowd that was starting to stare. “True. But can ye at least tell me first, away from the meetin’?”

Donal looked to Liam and Irial, who both nodded their approval. Taking her hand, Donal led her away from the meeting and into the trees. The air between them vibrated with tension. Eyes closing, Donal took several slow, steady breaths.  The birds in the boughs overhead seemed to be singing deafeningly loud as Neala waited for him to speak.

“It’s all right Donal, I won’t judge ye. I’ve lived me entire life hidin’ what I am because others judge us. I won’t do that to ye,” she said after it seemed he wouldn’t be able to find the words.

Those breathtaking, dark green eyes met her gaze and the fear in them sent chills through her.

“I’m a púca.”

She laughed. “This is a joke right? Ye’re jokin’ with me.”

His stoic expression didn’t change, transforming her chills into bumps that rose along her skin. Perhaps he was really good at jokes.

“Did me brother put ye up to this before he died?” Her smile wilted when his serious look didn’t fade.

“No Neala, I swear it’s true,” he said.

She stepped back, pulling her hands from his. “Ye shapeshift into a horse?” She couldn’t keep the disdain from her tone. It still felt like a joke.

“
Tá
.”

The world swam. Donal reached out to steady her but she pulled back out of his reach, catching herself against a tree. His face contorted with pain as if she had struck him.

“I was afraid to tell ye because I know how ye feel about them. I’m so sorry that I waited so long,” he said in a thick voice.

The words prickled along her power, causing it to spike. “What do ye mean, ‘waited so long?’ We’ve only just met.”

Looking down, Donal swallowed hard. “
Níl
. I’ve known ye for three years now. I came to ye with yer brother’s sword.”

The day she had learned of her brother’s death flashed behind her eyes. A warrior had brought Lorcan’s sword and his warhorse to their home. But she had never known that warrior, he’d left the very same day.

Neala looked deep into Donal’s eyes, and finally knew where she recognized them from.

“Dubh? Ye’re Dubh?” her voice shook nearly as badly as she did.

His bottom lip quivered when he opened his mouth to answer. Unable to get the words out, he nodded. A fire started to burn within Neala, making her muscles tense and her power flare.

“Ye hid this from me for three years, knowin’ how much I was hurtin’, how badly I needed a friend?” she said.

Moisture glistened in his eyes when he looked up at her. “Lorcan made me swear not to reveal meself to ye for at least three years. He wanted to make sure I only watched over ye until we were both old enough to make responsible decisions.”

“What in hell does that mean?” she demanded.

“I don’t know. Those are his words, not mine. I can’t tell ye how many times I wanted to reveal meself, to comfort ye as ye needed. But I swore and Lorcan’s power bound me power to obey me promise. I had no choice,” Donal said.

Hand reaching for her, he took a step closer. Shaking her head, she moved around the tree and stepped back. “I’m sorry, I need time to sort this out. Can ye give me a day or so?”

He nodded. “Fair enough.”

Despite the confusion that wracked her, still her power clung to him as he turned and walked deeper into the forest. She watched until the undergrowth and shadows consumed him.

A commotion from the gathering drew Neala’s attention. Wiping at her eyes, she rushed back to join her Order. Ciara gave her a questioning look. Unable to speak past the lump in her throat, she shook her head. Moving closer, Ciara put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. Comfort flowed from Ciara into her, taking the edge off her pain and shock, allowing her to focus on the commotion.

Riders were coming out of the forest, a lot of them. There were more people on foot and even a few carts. Neala thought she recognized her parents among them.