His eyes met hers in the vanity mirror and she sighed again and began cutting. Under her familiar touch he relaxed, letting his memory sift back through all the times in his youth that his mother had willingly set aside the business of the Goddess to care for him, as well as for Elphame and their twin siblings, Arianrhod and Finegas. His father, too, High Shaman of Partholon, had never failed to make his children’s needs a priority.
What kind of man would he have become if he had been raised without parents? Poor Brenna-to have had to go through the most difficult part of her life without the love of her mother and father.
Brighid’s father was dead, too, he remembered with a sense of surprise. He’d died years ago. Strange that Cu was just now thinking of that. Brighid had berated him for allowing grief to make him give up on life. She’d spoken as if from experience, but when he’d challenged her she’d only spoken of the loss the New Fomorians had survived. Odd that the Huntress so rarely spoke of her family. Yes, her herd was known for their radical beliefs, but her mother was High Shaman. Surely such a powerful dam had had a profound and lasting effect upon her daughter. Yet Brighid had broken tradition and left her family. He wondered why…
“Have you seen her this morning?” His mother’s soft voice seemed to come directly from his thoughts. He jerked, and she thumped his shoulder. “Be still or you’ll be even more unpresentable than you were when you arrived all wild and shaggy.”
He cleared his throat. “Who?”
His mother looked down her regal nose at him.
He sighed. “No, I have not seen Brighid this morning. I came straight here.”
“After bathing and shaving-Goddess be thanked.”
He grunted.
“Soul retrieval is a very intimate act,” she began in a smooth, conversational tone. “For the soul to be successfully returned to the body, the Shaman must build a bridge of caring and understanding between herself and the patient. If I am not mistaken, you and Brighid had a strong friendship before the shattered piece of your soul began visiting her.”
“Yes,” he said.
“It was Brighid who tracked Elphame the night she was injured and almost killed by the wild boar?”
“Yes.”
“And Brighid who led you to Brenna’s body?”
“It was,” he said. “Mother, I don’t-”
Her raised hand stopped his words. “Wait. Let me speak, and then you can ask me all the questions you wish.”
He nodded slightly, feeling expectant as well as nervous. What did his mother know about what had happened last night? Was she preparing to chide him about being infatuated with Brighid?
Was he infatuated?
“So you and she had already established a friendship. If I’m not mistaken, you have quite a bit of respect for the Huntress?”
“You are rarely mistaken, Mother.”
She smiled at his reflection. “That is a truth. Now let me share with you another one. After a healing of the soul takes place, the patient-” She shook her head at his scowl. “No, there is nothing wrong with being a patient. Your spirit was broken and in need of healing. That makes you a patient. There is no shame in that. Now may I continue?”
He nodded, still hating that it sounded like he had become an invalid.
“After a soul retrieval takes place the patient, who would be you, is spiritually changed.”
Cuchulainn sat up straighter and blinked in surprise.
His mother’s voice lost its clinical detachment, and her hand rested warm and maternal on his shoulder. “You may notice that you feel sensitized, as well as energized. Your perception of reality might expand.” When she felt him tense beneath her hand she patted him gently. “The effect can be temporary, but often it is not. And you will be forever linked to the Shaman who guided your soul home.”
“But Brighid isn’t a Shaman.”
“It is true that she has not made the Otherworld journey to drink from Epona’s Chalice, but the centaur carries Shamanistic power within her. If she didn’t, she would never have been able to bring the lost part of you home.”
Cuchulainn met his mother’s gaze in the mirror.
“Ask,” she said.
“Could Brighid become a High Shaman?”
“Only Epona can answer that, Cuchulainn.”
“I’ll take your best guess, Mother.” He tried to smile at her, but the tension that radiated through his body drew his face into hard, sober lines.
“Then my best guess is that she could, but that it would not be an easy journey for her, and that it might lead her to a life of extreme loneliness.” She ran the comb through his hair, smoothing and trimming while she talked. “You know that her herd’s views are radical, perhaps even dangerous?”
“Yes,” he said shortly.
“If she were to become High Shaman she would have to take her place as the leader of the Dhianna Herd. Brighid has chosen a different path, and I believe she has found a measure of peace and happiness in it. If she were to deviate from that path she would be thrust back into the world she purposefully departed, even though her beliefs differ drastically from theirs. That would be a very lonely life for her.”
“What if she were not alone?”
Instead of answering, his mother continued to carefully and methodically trim his hair.
Undaunted by her silence, Cuchulainn continued. “What if she had someone by her side who was willing to fill in the lonely space-to support her beliefs. Someone who respected her and…”
“And loved her?”
He turned so that he could look directly at his mother. “Is what I’m feeling just a result of the soul retrieval?”
“What are you feeling, my son?”
“I am so drawn to her that I can hardly bear being away from her! I would have rushed to find her this morning-” he barked a humorless laugh “-if I hadn’t realized that I looked like a wild mountain hermit.”
“Centaurs are magical and alluring beings,” she said noncommittally. “They are passionate and beautiful. The soul of a human enhanced by the strength of an equine is something that can be a very powerful draw.”
“Mother! You must tell me. Is what I’m feeling temporary obsession because she touched my soul, or is it something more?”
“Only you and Brighid can decide that. For all of my knowledge, I cannot predict love. The bond caused by soul retrieval is rarely more than deep understanding and respect.” She smiled at him. “It seems that you feel considerably more for the Huntress.”
“Considerably,” he said under his breath.
“Enough that you are willing to ask her to change her life and her future so that the two of you can be mated?”
“I don’t know!”
The priestess touched her son’s cheek. “I wish your father were here.”
“He wouldn’t tell me that I have gone mad?”
“He might.” She laughed.
He put his hand over hers. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Of course you don’t. You can’t decide that on your own-not really. Talk with Brighid. You’ve already shared your soul with her, how much more difficult could it be to share the secrets of your heart with her?”
“It feels like it’s happening too fast. Too soon after Brenna.”
“The world is turning quickly, Cuchulainn. I Feel a great restlessness approaching. Perhaps now is the appropriate time for fast actions.” She brushed her hands through his hair and gave him a considering look, then she smiled again. “You are finished here.”
He turned to the mirror, smoothing his newly shorn hair back from his forehead. Then he took his mother’s hand and kissed it.
“Thank you,” he said.
She squeezed his hand and gave him a little push toward the door. “Go find your future, my son. And know that whatever you choose, my blessing, as well as Epona’s, goes with you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE