With a snarl, she twisted on her heel. She shifted her weight, holding the blade higher and drawing it across the throat of the straw man. The blade was sharpened to a perfect point. It sliced through the material wrapped around the straw with ease.
For a moment, the straw man’s head remained where it was. There were no eyes to stare back at her, but she still saw the man who had made her believe he was something more than just a spoiled brat. Something more than just a prince who wanted another pretty bauble to put on his shelf and stare at.
She saw the King of the Seelie Fae, who was now banished to the mortal realm, removed from his throne but just as beautiful as he’d been when she had married him. She saw Fionn, and she didn’t know how to see anything else.
Slowly, the head of the straw man tilted to the side, then fell onto the ground. The soft hush of straw hitting dirt cleared her mind. Blade still lifted, she stared through the hole revealed by her movements.
Elva lived on the Isle of Skye with the rest of the women who were training to be warriors. Each had their own reason for being here. Some wanted to fulfil their dead brother’s promises to family. Some wanted revenge on people who had hurt them. Others had nowhere else to go and thus had turned to war and violence.
Whatever reason brought them here, Scáthach took them in. She was the most decorated warrior ever known to mankind. She’d trained Cú Chulainn himself.
The training grounds were little more than a field outside the keep where Scáthach lived. Rows upon rows of tents lined the fields. Those who were training weren’t permitted to sleep within the keep. Sleeping on the hard ground would prepare them for their difficult lives ahead. Elva preferred it anyway. She didn’t want someone sneaking into her room at night. Here, she could control every bit of her life.
Visitors to the Isle of Skye were ignored. If they drew a blade, they were all confident it wouldn’t leave its sheath before at least three warrior women destroyed the person who attempted to draw it.
Now, all of her fellow warriors were lined up on the road. Never had she seen the warrior women stop in their training for someone. Each woman held a hand on the hilt of their blades, staring at the newcomer with mistrust and…hatred? Elva had never seen so much hatred on their faces before.
She remained where she was, sword lifted above her head, and watched as the most miraculous thing she’d ever seen strode toward her.
A bear.
Larger than any other bear, this was more than just an animal, but a monstrous beast. His shoulder was taller than her, taller even than the biggest woman here in the training camp. Brown fur covered his body and dark, black eyes watched the women with an equal amount of mistrust.
It had to be a male. She’d never seen a bear grow to be so large, certainly not in these parts. Elva hadn’t even heard of bears on the Isle of Skye.
Great paws slapped at the ground. He didn’t speak, but it had to be something more than just an animal. A beast of the wild would have attacked someone by now. This one seemed to know where he was going. He walked with a confidence that belayed his intelligence.
Elva stood frozen where she was, not moving even when he stared directly into her eyes. Those eyes had so much emotion in them that it made her head spin. Hunger lurked in the shadows of that gaze, but something sad as well. Something that made her own soul turn away in fear.
Elva didn’t want to see something of herself in this creature. He couldn’t be anything she could help, no cursed man or creature who needed her involvement. She’d dedicated her entire life to being a warrior, a woman who protected those who needed her, not to find her attention captured by a beast.
She forced herself to turn away from him.
The bear walked by her, the ground shaking under his great weight as he passed. Claws scraped the ground so close to her foot, the gravel skittered. And then he was gone.
Her gaze lifted to follow his path. Would he look back?
Did she want him to?
Another of the warrior women, Deirdre, whose story was worse than Elva’s, stepped up to her side. “That’s the Beast of Fuar Bheinn.”
“Who?” Elva had never heard of such a creature. She’d come from the Seelie court in Ireland and hadn’t spent much time exploring the faerie realm of Scotland. There was much here she still didn’t know.
“Fuar Bheinn, the cold mountain. It’s always covered in snow, even in the greatest warmth of the summer. Ice never melts there, and the cold blasts of air will freeze even the greatest warrior’s hearts.”
Elva snorted. “Seems like a myth more than a reality.”
“I’ve been there before.” Deirdre’s fingers twisted together as she shifted restlessly with nerves. “Naoise and his brothers thought we could run through the mountains to get away from the man I was promised to marry. We had to come back down. The storms there are treacherous, but it wasn’t the snow or the ice that sent us running.”
“What did?” Elva already knew what the woman was going to say. It made her turn her gaze back toward the keep. The bear had nearly reached the gates that already stood open, awaiting his arrival.
“The screams,” Deirdre replied. “The wind carries them until it’s all you can hear. Something on that mountain is in great pain.”
“Why didn’t you try to help it?”
“Sometimes the screams weren’t from pain. Sometimes they were from rage, and then there were more voices that joined them.” Deirdre shivered. “I wouldn’t go back to that place if someone paid me to do so. There’s more there than just a beast on
