When Brighid and Cuchulainn had returned to the courtyard it was to find little knots of children with big, frightened eyes clustered around the adult New Fomorians and, Brighid noted with surprise, around the dark-clothed warriors who had escorted them through the pass. The winged children weren’t crying or showing any sign of childish hysterics, but there was a terrible, frightened silence about them as they kept close to the nearest adult.
The reaction of the Guardian Warriors-bows at the ready, their bodies in front of the children-relieved Brighid’s mind immensely. No matter the doubts the Masters of Guardian Castle, the warriors seemed to accept the children’s innocence, so much so that they were already protective.
“It’s over. She’s been taken to the dungeons,” Cuchulainn said as he joined Fagan and the other Masters near the center of the courtyard. He turned on the Swordmaster. “Why was she not being kept there already?”
“She usually is,” Fagan explained. “But the interior cells are cold and damp-terribly unhealthy-and she is with child. We allow her fresh air and exercise because of that.”
“She deserves neither,” Cuchulainn snapped.
“Of course she doesn’t. But she is being kept alive for the sake of her child. If we cause her death or the miscarriage of the babe, isn’t that negating the reason she was brought to us?”
“She is evil.” Cuchulainn’s voice was low and dangerous. “And she needs to be destroyed, with or without taking that demon spawn she carries within her.”
Brighid moved quickly to Cuchulainn. This time the hand she placed on his shoulder was not the gentle touch of a friend.
“Enough, Cuchulainn!” she said, pulling him around to face her.
He jerked away, eyes narrowed, but before he could snarl a response she made a sharp, cutting gesture.
“Stop and think before you speak. You’re scaring them. And they’ve already been frightened enough.”
Cu’s gaze blazed as he looked at the children. Those within hearing were staring at him with expressions that ranged from confusion to fear-and some of them, the older ones, were watching him with wide-eyed hurt.
Brighid stepped closer to him and spoke quietly. “What they do not need heaped atop everything else is to be burdened with the uncertainty of wondering if their warrior hero might actually hate them. They could very easily be considered the spawn of demons. Perhaps you would like them destroyed, too?”
Cuchulainn’s gaze roamed over the children as Brighid spoke. She could tell the instant her words penetrated his wall of anger. His wide shoulders slumped and he wiped an unsteady hand across his brow.
“We have much work to do,” Ciara said into the uncomfortable silence. “The children are hungry and tired.”
“Yes, of course,” Cuchulainn said in an unnatural, clipped voice. “We shouldn’t waste time. Gareth! Cullon!” He called two of the oldest boys’ names. He hesitated then added, “Kyna! Help me settle the animals while the tents are being erected.” The fluttering of wings answered his summons as the three children and the half-grown wolf cub hurried to follow the stern warrior.
Then, as if Cuchulainn’s departure was a signal for action, the hybrids, with the help of their Guardian escorts, resumed the job of setting up camp. Brighid smiled reassurance at the children who continued to glance her way, wondering silently when she had become an advocate for the young as well as unwilling healer to the spiritually infirm.
Ciara materialized silently beside the Huntress. “It is only a temporary setback.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“The warrior has begun to feel the spark of life again. His body, his heart, even his spirit remember what it is like to be whole and to know the joy of really living. It will not be something from which he can easily turn away.”
Brighid met the winged woman’s eyes. She wanted to ask Ciara if she meant that Cuchulainn was falling in love with her, and she with him, but the words wouldn’t come. They sounded ridiculously girlish and foolish in her mind. How much worse would they sound spoken aloud? And why was it any of her business? It wasn’t. Not really. Let Elphame figure out her brother’s love life. Brighid had taken on the job of helping him fix his spirit. That was it.
Ciara’s smile warmed, and Brighid had the disturbing sensation the winged woman was reading her mind. Again.
“Ciara!” Master Fagan found his way to them through the throng of busy children and warriors. He had a well-rounded, middle-aged woman with him, who he quickly introduced as Kathryn, the castle’s head cook, before he disappeared back into the throng of activity. The stout woman stared at the children with fascination and shock.
“We carried provisions with us,” Ciara assured her, but the cook waved away the Shaman’s implied offer.
“Guests granted sanctuary at Guardian Castle do not feed themselves,” Kathryn said gruffly. “We will simply add a few more pots to the hearth.” She scratched her double chins. “Exactly how many children are there?”
“Seventy,” Brighid said, enjoying the cook’s look of horror. “And twenty-two adults, plus Cuchulainn and myself.”
“That is quite a solid number. By the Great Goddess! So many small mouths!” She rocked back on her heels, planting her hands on her thick waist.
Just then the Guardian Warriors began lighting the torches that rested snugly within wall sconces fitted around the inner courtyard. The area filled with the homey glow of dancing fire.
Brighid raised a brow at the cook. “It’s dusk, and I do not know the territory, but that matters little. I should be able to track and kill something. Although probably not quickly enough to feed them dinner.”
“ Guardian Castle is amply provisioned!” Kathryn huffed.
“Would you consider Brighid’s offer as our gift to you?” Ciara asked.
The cook’s curious eyes swiveled from staring at the children to the lovely winged Shaman.
“A gift?”
“Yes, from our Huntress to yours.”
Kathryn looked from Ciara to Brighid, obviously trying to decide if she could accept their offer without dishonoring her castle. Brighid caught the cook’s eye and nodded encouragement.
“I suppose a gift of venison to cook up for the morning meal wouldn’t be inappropriate. But it wouldn’t be our Huntress you would be gifting-it would have to be the castle in general. Our Huntress left us early several days ago.”
Surprised, Brighid’s mind cast back quickly for a name. “Isn’t your Huntress Deirdre of the Ulstan Herd?”
“Yes, and sorely we miss her,” Kathryn said. “Though that doesn’t mean we are lacking.” The cook straightened her spine with obvious pride. “Our warriors are not up to Huntress standards, but they will not let the castle-or its guests-go hungry.”
They had been left with no Huntress? How could that be? No, she hadn’t glimpsed any centaurs today, but a Huntress was not always at the castle. It certainly wouldn’t be unusual for her to be out tracking game, even until well after dusk. Brighid shook her head as if to clear it. “I don’t understand. Your Huntress left you? Without calling in another to stand in her stead?”
“Her departure was unexpected. One day she received a centaur runner carrying a message from the Centaur Plains. The next she was gone.”
“When is she returning?”
“Soon, we hope. Though she didn’t say.” Kathryn shrugged off the question. “As I said, she is missed but we are adapting well. My pots have not been empty. Nor will they be.”
“It would be my pleasure to gift Guardian Castle with a Huntress’s catch,” Brighid said formally, forcing down the warring emotions Kathryn’s announcement had caused.
The cook hesitated only a moment longer before curtsying to her. “I accept your generous gift, Huntress of the MacCallan Clan.”