Knowing it was pointless to direct his words to Talorgan, Tritus faced Drust, “Here is where I leave you. Thank you for all you have shown me these past few weeks. I have valued your friendship.”
The words were not false, for Drust had become his one true friend after the migration to this land west of the salty sea, and he was sorry to lose that friendship to distance. But Drust had promised to visit, and Tritus would hold him to it.
Conscious that even though Talorgan did not participate in the conversation but was still listening, he added, “My journey will take me most of the year, but I hope to return before next winter. If I do not, and my family arrives on these shores, could you please let them know I will return to them soon.”
Drust didn’t hesitate to follow along. “Of course, that is no burden.”
Tritus nodded his thanks, and grasped Drust’s forearm, pulling him in close. He thumped his other hand on his friend’s back and said with a feeling of subdued loss, “I wish you well on the journey ahead. Farewell, my friend.”
Drust gripped him tightly, his voice husky as he murmured, “Farewell. I wish you well on the journey ahead.”
Tritus released his friend, hoisted his doe higher on his back, and turned to meet his destiny.
When Tritus returned to the campsite that they’d abandoned two hours off dusk, Cailleach was waiting, her foot tapping impatiently in the dew-touched grass.
Her eyes glittered a startling silver as she raked him a glance from head to toe. “About time,” she muttered darkly.
Tritus felt a tingle of foreboding at the impatience she didn’t bother to conceal. Cailleach was a well-honed blade, her emotions as sharp as a sword’s lethal edge. She would not suffer fools lightly.
He made his lips peel back in a feigned smile as he sketched a mocking bow. “Thank you for the lovely welcome, my lady.”
Her lips twitched at his response, but she didn’t apologize, and Tritus hadn’t expected her to.
“You can stop groveling. We don’t have time for that. Follow me.”
And regardless of the fact that his stomach gnawed with hunger, for he hadn’t stopped to eat lunch on the trek back up the mountain, Tritus curbed his needs. He understood that this thing between them, so new and fragile, was something Cailleach didn’t yet trust. And he didn’t blame her, for he felt the same. So, he hoisted the dead doe he’d carried all day and followed her without a word.
They trekked in silence for an hour, Cailleach’s footfalls deathly silent, and everywhere she walked, frozen ice crystals sprung over the detritus of the forest floor like a glowing carpet. Tritus swallowed his wonder because he would allow no distinction between their positions—they would either be equals in this newfound relationship, or nothing at all.
Eventually, Cailleach stopped in front of a large rock wall, mountain brambles hugging tightly to its jagged surface. The trees seemed tight there—as if pressing in. Tritus looked at her, an eyebrow raised in question at their halt.
In reply, Cailleach gave a small smile and reached out to pull aside a string of mountain brambles. Her first words after their endured silence were soft, vulnerable. “Welcome to my home.”
Tritus looked past her in the gathering gloom. A cave. Wordlessly, he walked inside, the brambles swishing back into place as she followed him in.
“Flame!”
At the sharp command from Cailleach, torches in wall sconces he hadn’t known were there suddenly flared to life, lifting the veil of darkness.
The area was rectangular, the breadth of the cave enormous. A room fit for thirty people. The floor was rocky, polished to a smooth surface, the walls similarly constructed. Tritus had never seen anything like it. He turned to look at the woman beside him. Had she forged it? If she had, it was a testament to her raw power.
He noted the separate living areas—the hearth with a large cauldron over a banked fire, two large logs surrounding it as makeshift seats, and a reasonable area cordoned off to the right by a free-standing bramble screen that flourished with green leaves and sweet-smelling flowers in bloom. Tritus had no idea how it survived without natural light. Was this another testament to her power?
As he moved silently into the center of the room, Tritus caught a glimpse of a bedroll behind the screen, piled high with feathers and wool. His attention was caught by a light, tinkling sound and his eyes tracked the noise to the far wall, discovering the small, underground spring that flowed from one end of the cave to the other. He noted the carved wooden bowls at one end of the cave and another smaller free-standing bramble screen to the left—a place to acquire fresh water, and a place designated for waste.
Tritus was impressed. The cave was ingenious, comely and welcoming, but also well-engineered. And given the heat provided by the campfire, also warm. A safe place for a goddess to live away from prying eyes, cool in summer but snug in winter.
“Well?” she drawled. “Does it accommodate your needs?”
His voice was genuine. “It’s amazing. A home fit for a winter queen.”
She smiled then, a small twist of her lips, as she added, “And her consort.”
He snorted. “I doubt I’m fit for that title right now. I have yet to survive the winter that you’ll unleash.”
She considered him. “It will be your initiation. A test to see if you can survive not only the harsh brutality of what winter brings, but also whether you have the stomach to bow to a woman with power.”
He didn’t hesitate. Dropping the doe with a swift movement to the cave floor, he stalked right up to her. She had to tilt her head back to maintain their gaze, and for that, Tritus was pleased. Another mark in his favor. “I will bow to no woman, especially my own.”
Tritus heard her breath hitch, saw her silver eyes roil with anger, but he didn’t give her a chance to respond as he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her face to his in a ruthless kiss.
Cailleach’s snarl was abruptly cut off as his lips slammed on hers in a brutal claiming.
He’d desired this kiss since they’d claimed each other verbally. But he’d known that what they’d discovered then was too raw, too new. He had planned on kissing her in the clearing, or at least an embrace, but she’d been…off. Swaggering and brash. As if she were uncertain.
He knew why. Because he’d also been questioning it—whether it was prophecy guiding his emotions, or whether they were truly his own. Tritus had felt the tug from a greater force; it had led him down paths he hadn’t originally set out to walk upon. But this feeling, this emotion between him and Cailleach; it felt different. As if it was tempered by emotions that were more than forced. They were raw, and they were real.
And this kiss—it was a reminder to Cailleach of that fact.
Tritus didn’t give her a chance to breathe or to pull away, grinding his mouth against hers in an unspoken language that had been forged since the beginning of time. He felt her stiffen in his arms as if surprised by his attack. He pushed his advantage, probing the seam of her lips, begging her to open. His other hand traveled down her chest, cupping her breast. The material of her dress was soft but cold to the touch. But her skin, her lips—they were most definitely warm.
Cailleach surrendered to his pressure, opening her mouth on a soft moan. He swallowed the noise, not hesitating to plunder the depths, his own chest rumbling with a purr of satisfaction as he tasted her. She tasted like her scent: a forest of pine trees covered in a dusting of frosted ice.
Cailleach lifted her hands to clutch at his shoulders, pliant and responsive, and the kiss went on and on, a slow devouring.