Against the urges of his wolf, he nudged his horse forward to follow Circin and Prince Eirik farther into the village.
Four of the soldiers were placed in homes with human members of the Éan tribe. None with the bird shifters, and two of them, Bryant and Donnach, were given their own small hut to share. Which meant out of all the homes in the village, only four had been willing to have wolves staying with them.
Prince Eirik had explained that after his people had grown used to their presence, Bryant and Donnach would be given the option of living in the treetop dwelling that housed the prince and his grandmother. From there, they would be able to spend more time with the Éan themselves.
Bryant chose to see that as progress rather than further proof the Éan were not ready to integrate with the clans. As his laird had warned him was most likely the case.
According to stories Bryant’s grandfather told, the wolves had not liked joining the human clans, either. Especially after MacAlpin’s betrayal, but his forefathers had realized that if the Chrechte wanted to survive, the move was a necessary one.
And in some ways, it was easier done after MacAlpin’s betrayal, when no easily acknowledged prince among their own people could be identified because MacAlpin had killed them all.
Not like with the Éan. They had Prince Eirik, who all expected to be named king upon his twenty-fifth birthday.
The Éan had their own spiritual leader, too, and a sacred stone, the Clach Gealach Gra, used during their Chrechte rituals. The Faol had either never had a stone, or lost it many years ago and had long since given up their celi di in favor of the human’s priests.
The Éan were also used to living as they did in the forest, like thieves hiding from the magistrate.
Convincing them of the need to rejoin their brethren and become part of the clans, where many of their freedoms would be curtailed even as they enjoyed others, would be no easy task.
And still, Bryant’s wolf had more interest in the scent that caught his attention than in their task at hand.
The mists of the spirit world swirled around Una’s legs, even as her shift grew damp and clung to her form. Though she slept, this was no dream.
She had heard of this, the ability some Chrechte had to meet on a plane not purely physical. Oh, it felt real enough, but she experienced it on a level that would impact her body, could even leave marks on it if the stories were to be believed, but where her body had not actually come.
She had always believed such was only possible for the celi di, those of the royal blood and some very blessed sacred mates. She was none of those and yet she was here. Wherever here was.
The forest around her did not look like her forest, but had trees wider than ten Faol warriors standing shoulder to shoulder, and so tall she could not see their tops standing below them. The green moss growing on the north side of their trunks was a brilliant green, brighter than anything in the forests of her home.
Flowers grew in clumps of vibrant colors, irises standing waist high to peek through the ever-swirling mists. Birds chirped, though she could not see them, and the sound of a brook babbled in the distance.
Though she’d gone to sleep in the night, the moon high in the sky, it was early morning here, the sun still trailing a golden glow on the horizon.
The sound of a rider on a horse approaching had her turning from the sun, only to see the man from the day before galloping on his big brown warhorse. He spied her. There was no question that he’d done so, for he quickly changed direction, pulling his huge beast of a horse to an abrupt halt before her.
The horse tossed its head as the rider looked down at her in confusion. “Who are you?”
“I am Una.” None of the panic she usually experienced around strangers came to plague her, and she found the smallest of smiles tilting her lips upward.
There was joy in being able to address this man without fear.
“I do not know you,” the grey-eyed man said, his brows drawn together.
“I am aware.” Her smile grew. “I have told you my name. Now, tell me yours.”
She did not know this boldness in the physical world, but here, she felt safe. This was the Chrechte spirit realm, a place she as Éan could only be called to, and a place where no harm could come to her.
No Faol with intention to harm would be allowed to enter. Of this her eagle was so certain, even her human heart had to accept it.
“I am called Bryant.”
“You are Faol.”
“You are Éan?” he asked, rather than stated.
“I am.”
“Are you celi di?” Though the way his storm-cloud gaze roamed over her said spiritual guidance was the last thing on his mind.
“No.” Familiar shame that had no place here still assailed her. “I am nothing special.”
“I am sure that is not true.”
“You would not know.” All urge to smile had fled.
Concern darkened his eyes, as if her sadness truly bothered him. “I am drawn to you.”
She merely shook her head.
Bryant dismounted with an ease of movement she knew was not simply because they conversed in the spirit realm. His natural grace delighted her here, though were she to see it at home, she would consider it a threat she knew.
“Were you sleeping when you came to this place?” he asked as he came near, seemingly unconcerned with what his horse might get up to without its rider.
“I was.”
“So, this is a dream?” he asked.
“No.” Even in her dreams, her terror of the Faol would never let her stand so close to him.
“Where are we then?”
“You are so sure I have the answers?”
“I know only that I do not.”
“It is the Chrechte spirit realm.”
“I have heard stories.” He frowned. “But surely this is not real. This is naught but a dream.”
She put her hand out, rejoicing in her temerity to do so, and touched his muscular arm. His hand came up seemingly of its own volition to cover hers. Warmth spread between them, though the mists surrounding them were still cool in the early morning air of this place.
“This does not feel like a dream,” he said with quiet awe.
“Because it is not.”
“But who are you, if not celi di, to bring me here?”
“I did not bring you.”
“Then I brought you?” he asked, sounding unsure.
“No. Perhaps we are not even here for each other, merely at the same time.”
It was his turn to say, “No,” but with a great deal more vehemence than she had uttered the denial. “You are here for me.”
“You did not even know where you were; how can you be so sure of that?”
“My wolf wants you.”
There was no mistaking the heat in his grey eyes.
“Perhaps wolves are not taught they cannot have everything they want, but we of the Éan know differently.”
He tugged on her hand, moving her to stand between his feet, so close their bodies touched.
Her heart raced, but it was not in terror. Her breath caught, but not because her lungs refused to work. For the first time in five years, Una found herself wanting to be near another adult, craving a physical closeness she was sure would be denied her always.
“You crave me as well,” he claimed, his expression no longer confused, but knowing in a way that made heat pool low in her belly.
“Here, I may feel all that I am denied when I am fully myself.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, his head bent as if to listen more closely.
Or kiss her.