Leading his horse out of the stables, Cailean whistled to Skaal. Moments later, the huge dog with a shaggy dark-green coat and glowing golden eyes stalked out of the mist. Skaal carried an aura of Sheehallion magic with her. The Shee were fleet of foot and capable of blending with their surroundings at will when it suited them. It was what made them so difficult to hunt.
Vaulting up onto his stallion’s back, Cailean cast a look around the yard, at the company of twenty enforcers who’d join him on this patrol. His brow furrowed as he viewed them. With Drago and Frang gone, their numbers were dwindling. Those two had always been trouble, and he felt no remorse at executing them—even if the High King wasn’t pleased with him about it—but they were among his fiercest warriors. He needed to replace them.
Raen was training more enforcers, although the young warrior-druids weren’t yet ready to leave the Isle of Arryn and join him. Cailean had left his remaining twenty-two enforcers here, to guard the High King, and when Torran returned from Baldeen, he’d oversee them in the chief-enforcer’s absence.
Cailean’s frown deepened. Torran was due back soon, and he’d wanted to be here when he returned, for Mother Gelda’s answer mattered to him.
These days, he trusted nothing that came out of his wife’s mouth.
Jaw tightening, he reined Feannag around and headed toward the gates that led from the broch onto The Thoroughfare. The stallion tossed his head, his bit jangling, and side-stepped. Feannag—so named for his crow-black coat—was eager to be away again.
Seating himself deeply in the saddle, Cailean squeezed with his thighs, keeping the stallion in check. Feannag would be able to stretch his legs as soon as Duncrag was at their backs.
Wordlessly, the enforcers fell in behind their leader, the hollow clip-clop of their horses’ hooves, the creak of leather, and the jangle of iron filling the damp air.
As Cailean led the way across the yard, the skin between his shoulder blades prickled.
Someone was watching him.
Twisting in the saddle, he glanced over his shoulder, his gaze lifting to the top of the stone wall that ringed the broch. A woman stood there, watching him go. She wore a blue mantle, her oak-brown hair unbound and spilling over her shoulders.
Sensing his rider’s sudden tension, Feannag snorted and bucked. Keeping his seat easily, Cailean stared up at his wife.
Had Fia come outdoors to see him off?
His breathing grew shallow, and it struck him then that seeing her therepleasedhim.
His gut clenched.Watch yourself.
The Reaper’s cods, he didn’t like how she affected him, how his gaze often sought her out. He ignored her most of the time, and only spoke to the woman when he had no other choice—but the truth was, she fascinated him. He’d never known a woman could be so full of contradictions. She had a lush body and a tongue like a whetted blade.
And she could fight.
He’d met female warriors—the High King’s guard had a few—although female enforcers were rare. Women tended to display gifts for the other druidic paths. But he couldn’t believe a Maid of Albia would be taught such a skill. It made no sense to him.
Gods, the woman vexed him though. He’d told her she wasn’t to question him about the High King’s business, but she persisted.
Indeed, as Fia’s father had noticed in Braewall, mac Brudedidhave his overkings building armies for him. Their recent journey south had been to check on King Dunchadh’s progress.
The High King had tried to cloak his plans in secrecy. However, after recent events, he now suspected the Shee knewwhat he was up to—something that had infused him with urgency.
This next trip had a dual purpose: after investigating the attack on the High King’s tax collectors and retrieving the stolen revenue, Cailean had been instructed to travel to Cannich and hurry King Ailean up. He’d been struggling to draft Uplanders, and the High King was displeased with his slow progress.
Fia continued to gaze down at him, and Cailean tore his attention from her.
Her questions weren’t the worst thing about her. His wife distracted him. He’d made a mistake the day before, being so candid with her about how Skaal had come to be with him. He regretted it now.
The less his wife knew about him the better.
Urging Feannag through the gates, he made a silent promise that when he returned to Duncrag, his shields would be back in place.
“The broch is still buzzing like a bee’s nest after what you did.”
Bree glanced up, from where she’d been pouring ground seeds into a leather pouch, to find Lara watching her. The princess’s pine-colored eyes were sharp with curiosity, and Bree stifled a sigh.
She’d been expecting this—and had avoided Princess Lara over the last few days.
To Bree’s left, Eldra turned from retrieving a clay bottle off a high shelf. “Aye, the servants talk of nothing else atmealtimes.” She then favored Bree with a probing look that made her skin prickle.