Page 8 of For an Exile’s Heart (Ancient Songs #2)

W hen Kerr and Toren came home without game and without their Erin cousin, Bradana feared the worst. Indeed, she’d been uneasy about their jaunt ever since the three of them left. She knew her stepbrothers, understood all too well that any show of hospitality on their part must be false and rotten.

She now admitted to herself that her uneasiness had kept her hanging around the dun most of the day. She had other things to do. She’d neglected those things.

Kerr and Toren came riding in at late afternoon, as casually as if they were missing nothing.

“Where’s the Erin cousin?” she asked, planting herself in front of them.

They exchanged a telling look before Toren dismounted from his pony. “Out o’ our way, Bradana. We are bound for the pony sheds.”

“But where is he?” A terrible, icy feeling poured over Bradana. “Have ye killed him?”

Kerr gave a ghastly grin, revealing his big, square teeth. “Not us.”

Realization hit her an equally icy blow. “Ye left him out there.”

“It seems,” Toren said with great satisfaction, “our poor cousin from Erin got lost. He should no’ put his feet where they do no’ belong.”

She stared at them, aghast. A hundred thoughts flooded her mind before she chose one. “What will your father say?”

“I do not know wha’ he may say”—Toren wagged his head—“but he should be grateful to us.”

“Aye, grateful,” Kerr echoed.

“We got rid o’ this one far quicker than they other two.”

“By Lugh’s spear,” Bradana swore. “How far out did ye take him?”

“Far enough that he will no’ be coming back.”

“And the pony?”

“A shame, that,” Kerr admitted. “’Twas a fine pony.”

They moved off toward the pony sheds as if they had not a care in the world. Bradana stood and considered several options.

She should go to her stepfather. He, at least, must be concerned, if only because he would have to send word back to Erin if Adair MacMurtray was lost.

Lost. And a terrible shame that would be. All that warmth and brightness disappeared into the wild.

Surely Kendrick would send out a search party. Or—an entirely mad idea—she could go herself.

She knew the hunting grounds well enough. No one was so mad as to venture far into the interior, which was just trees and more trees. Here in Alba, most travel was done along the coast by watercraft.

But Toren and Kerr had deliberately led their cousin off.

She might never find him. Kendrick might not. Adair could well wander and die out there.

Alone.

And why should that bother her so? Aye, he was bonny. He was also trouble, and no one to cause this tug at her heart.

He meant nothing to her save an object of unexpected—and unwanted—attraction. Admittedly, a strong attraction.

She turned her back to the sea and eyed the land.

Would Alba be willing to surrender him?

*

The scramble up the tree, a dark and bristling specimen, proved hot, sweaty, and painful. Worse, it did Adair little good. Though he climbed as high as he could, risking life and limb on the possibility of a fall, all he could see in any direction was more trees.

Not a hint of the sea. Not a breath of it. Not the rise of a mountain that would mark the farther interior.

He slithered back down, garnering several more scrapes and abrasions.

He could still feel someone watching him.

All right, if they were out there silently sniggering at his plight, he could wait them out. He sat down with his back against the tree and tried to think.

Would the pony lead him back home? It stood placidly, not trying to graze, as clouds fluttered overhead blocking out the sunlight. The fine day fast flew.

After a time, he realized he would have to do something. He got to his feet and called out.

“All right—ye’ve had your fun. If ye’re still there, let’s have done with this.”

A rustle, very faint from the far side of the clearing. Had they been there all the while? But it was neither of his cousins that stepped out into the glade.

*

“Toren and Kerr ha’ gone and lost the cousin from Erin.”

Kendrick looked up sharply. He and Bradana’s mother were in the family quarters of the great dun—for once not arguing. Kendrick got slowly to his feet.

“Eh?”

“But they’ve gone hunting,” Mam protested mildly.

“They took him out under the guise o’ hunting and abandoned him, ye mean,” Bradana declared roundly. “They’ve just come back wi’out him.”

Kendrick swore.

“Is he gone, then?” Mam asked almost innocently. “Good riddance. Though he seemed a nice enough young man.”

“Tavia!” Kendrick chided her. “We canna just leave him out there. Where are those two rascals?”

“Off to the pony sheds,” Bradana replied.

Kendrick marched out as he was, in tunic and kilt, no weapons. Bradana followed.

“They should no’ ha’ done that,” Kendrick seethed. “I would ha’ got rid soon enough, like the twa others.”

He hurried so that Bradana had no breath to reply. They met her stepbrothers coming the other way.

“Wha’ is this I hear?” Kendrick demanded of them.

They glared at Bradana.

“The cousin from Erin went astray,” Toren replied.

“He went astray?”

“Aye, lost his way there in the forest. After a boar, maybe.”

“And ye did no’ look for him?” Kendrick roared, never for a minute believing it had not been deliberate.

“Aye, we cast about for a bit, then gave it up for hopeless.”

“Where were ye when ye lost him?”

“No’ certain.” Toren wrinkled up his face. “I doubt we could find the place again.”

“And wha’ will his father say when I send word he’s no’ to be found?”

Kerr drawled, “I suppose mayhap he may say ’twas a poor thing he did in sending the bugger here.”

Kendrick puffed out an annoyed breath. “Go fetch more ponies. At least five o’ them. We maun go out and search for him.”

“Aye so,” Toren said, “but I do no’ think we will find him.”

“Ye will search as will I, if we have to look all night.”

“I will come also,” Bradana heard herself say.

All three of them stared at her in surprise.

“Nay, nay,” Kendrick said. “No’ a good idea. We mean to spread out.”

“Aye. Do I not know the woods as well as these two? Plus I ha’ Wen. He may help find the cousin.”

She would find him. Bradana did not understand quite why she felt so convinced of it. It was as if she had an arrow beneath her heart, straining toward him.

As if she could feel the man.

Kendrick glanced at the hound that hugged Bradana’s side.

“Ye saw what a liking Wen took to him.”

“Well, so. But I do no’ want ye venturing far, lass. If ye become lost as well, yer mother will have my hide.”

“’Tis fixing to rain,” Toren said with some satisfaction. “If it does, I do no’ believe we will ever be able to find him.”

*

The fading light dappled the hide of the stag that emerged from the cover of the trees, alone this time without the rest of his herd. Moving with great and near-silent dignity, he raised his head, displaying a magnificent rack of antlers.

He and Adair regarded one another.

For that one long, incredible moment, Adair did not breathe. The stag’s eyes, very dark and full of mystery, spoke to him. Silently did the message come, and Adair’s heartbeat thundered.

This place is mine. You intrude upon my land.

Aye, indeed, and so he did.

Slowly and carefully, he backed off a step. Not far, as the tree stood close behind him. Softly he called, “I be here through no choice o’ my own.”

His pony flicked its ears. The stag did not move. It continued to watch Adair the way Alba seemed to watch him, with a hint of silent threat.

More than a hint.

Perhaps fifty paces separated him and the beast across the clearing. Adair understood how swiftly a stag of that size could cross the distance. Would he defend his territory?

Might Adair seize his pony’s bridle and lead him off into the trees? Give the king his distance.

But he did not feel sure he should do that. There was some magic in this encounter, and it held him.

He had left the bow on the ground. He now lifted his hands as he might to a man he wished to reassure, showing them empty of weapons.

And stepped out.

Madness, aye. The very opposite of what wisdom dictated. Quite possibly, he should go back up the tree. Wait for the beast to leave. Yet that was not what was meant.

Another pace and he waited, the pony now behind him.

The stag snorted and stepped out also, toward him.

“By Lugh’s spear,” Adair muttered. A thrill coursed through him from head to toe. And louder, “Can ye give me my direction? I will leave ye then, leave ye to your kingdom.”

The stag tossed his head. As if to a signal, all the light went out of the clearing, blotted by clouds streaming above. It abruptly grew dark as night.

This, as Adair knew—as he felt to the very marrow of his bones—was a moment of magic. In a place of magic.

Alba was not Erin.

“Show me, I pray,” he whispered.

The stag moved, turned to his right and Adair’s left. Started across the clearing.

Hastily, Adair grabbed his pony’s lead and snatched up the bow.

At the edge of the clearing, the stag paused and turned to look at Adair once more. They were now so close, Adair could smell the beast’s heavy scent and, despite the fleeing of the light, see each separate hair of his hide. The animal breathed out a gust of air and Adair nodded.

“This way?”

A great swirl of wind entered the clearing and chased around it. All the trees nodded at once, bending their dark boughs.

As if bowing.

“Thank ye, master.”

Another snort and the stag gathered its hooves beneath it. Leaped away, leaving great gouges of earth behind. It disappeared into the trees, leaving Adair blinking, no longer certain of what he’d seen.

Had that truly taken place? Had the beast given him a direction back to the settlement? Or would it send him off into the vast wilderness of Alba’s heart?

Dare he believe? Dare he not?

He remained unsure till he and the pony had walked some distance, for he led the animal by its reins, and the ground began to slant down gradually. Not even then did he mount and ride. He wanted his feet against the ground and no chance for the pony to take him astray.

He caught no glimpse of Toren or Kerr, and no longer felt as if anyone watched him.