“She will not forgive you?”
“I dinna ken.” He hoped, but he had no certainty.
“Does she know your plans?”
“I spoke of them, but not in detail. She knows I plan to return to the MacLeod.”
Their swords clanged in rhythmic beats as they fell into a fighting pattern neither could easily break free of or win. It made them both sweat with exertion, but continued to show both their skills in a dull light.
“And?” Vegar prompted after a particularly loud clash.
“She never wants to return to the clan of our births.”
“She plans to live among the Sinclairs?” Vegar’s shock translated to a clumsy move on his part and it was his turn to weep blood from a small gash.
“Shona has family among the Balmoral.”
This time, Caelis was able to compensate for Vegar’s surprise-driven clumsiness and he did not draw blood.
“Are you going to let her go?”
“What choice have I?”
“The same options you had six years ago.”
Caelis stopped moving completely, his sword falling to his side as his friend’s words sank into his warrior’s heart. “My clan or my mate?”
Vegar shook his head firmly, no pity in his expression, only a good dose of disgust. “Giving up or fighting for the woman Providence has decreed as yours.”
Chrechte nature runs true.
—TALORC OF THE SINCLAIRS
He had left his sacred mate to fend for herself while carrying his child. Caelis had wanted Uven’s approval so much that he had dismissed his feelings for Shona and done as the laird ordered, repudiating her completely.
Six years ago, Caelis had felt trapped between his duty to his pack and alpha and the woman he wanted to make his mate.
He was just as torn in two directions now. How could he fight for Shona when it meant either forcing her to return to a clan she so clearly despised or abdicating his own responsibilities and the promises he had made to the Cahir?
“What in damnation are you two doing?” the Sinclair bellowed as he approached them.
“Sparring,” Vegar said, his tone just as surly.
The Ean recognized no alpha but their prince and were still acclimating to the concept of living under a laird’s authority within the clans.
The Ean had only recently joined the clans, having lived secretly in the forest under the reign of their royal family for the past centuries. The Faol had lost their royal family, or most of them, in MacAlpin’s betrayal.
A pack alpha was not so different from a prince to Caelis’s way of thinking though.
And they’d since learned that some of their own people yet carried the royal blood of the Faol. Himself included if the evidence of his son’s gifts could be believed.
“When two
Caelis would have said something cutting in response, but the laird was right. There was no excuse for his and Vegar’s carelessness.
Vegar scowled, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance. “This mating business is not so simple. No wonder my tribe encouraged bonding without seeking one’s true mate.”
“The Ean had little choice in your isolated home, but now that you live among the clans, God willing, many of your people will find their mates.”
Vegar did not appear brightened by the prospect. Caelis could not blame him. He’d no desire to give Shona or their children up, but neither did he enjoy the difficulties their bond created in his life.
Talorc sighed, his expression tinged with unexpected understanding. “Abigail gave me a fair chase.”
“She was ordered by her king to marry you.” Caelis did not see how the laird could have had to chase the woman.
“But a Chrechte desires the heart of his true mate, not mere promises of fidelity.”
“I would take the promises.” He’d had Shona’s heart once.
He had no doubts it was not on offer again. That organ now resided behind a prickly wall of impenetrable brambles.
“So you think.”
“A warrior has no need of emotional entanglements.” Vegar sounded very sure for a man so easily distracted by finding his mate.
“A warrior fights best when he has something of great value to fight for,” Talorc said, quoting ancient Faol tradition.
“That refers to our tribe, or pack. A Chrechte is not suited to life alone.”
“You quote more Chrechte teachings but do not understand them.” Talorc unsheathed his own sword, dropping into a fighting stance. “Come spar with me and I will see if you can keep your blood in your veins.”
Vegar and Caelis both moved to take opposing stances to Talorc. Soon the clang of clashing metal could be heard again, this time even more frequently and with more controlled rhythm.
“What do you mean, I do not understand our teachings?” Vegar demanded as he advanced on the laird.
Talorc maintained his defensive posture without losing ground to Vegar’s attack. “A warrior’s first concern is not his tribe or pack.”
Vegar stopped moving, shock holding his body rigid. “You do not teach your warriors this.”
“I do.” Talorc’s sword arced down, caught Vegar’s and tossed the other blade across the ground like a twig. “Sacred matings supersede even our duty to pack.”
“But…”
“A Chrechte can survive without a pack—but only in misery without his true bonded.”
Caelis nodded his agreement before thinking about it. He felt the need to point out, however, that, “Love is not necessary between mates.”
“Nay, but it makes life a joy when it is there.”
“You sound like a woman,” Caelis accused.
Then he spent the next fifteen minutes fighting a warrior that might well best him on the battlefield were they ever pitted in truth against each other, even with his new form gifted through the sacred stone. Because Talorc had been gifted as well and he was a formidable fighter.
Ciara’s connection to the
