“You’ve blood on your face,” Ruirech said with a concerned expression.

  Bee lifted a finger to her chin, which came away bloodied. She noticed peck marks on the back of her hand and realised they had been lucky. So many murderous crows could have killed them. Once seen, the wounds began to sting, and she winced.

  Where did the birds come from? she asked herself.

  It seemed unlikely the arrival of the murder was a coincidence but a planned attack. Crows as familiars brought one of the Tuatha Gods immediately to mind. Looking at the rebel, Bee decided not to say anything. Her mother’s words, ringing in her mind, told her to be cautious. She needed someone, especially now that Bren had run. Mention of who Bee thought to be behind the attack would force any sane person to head for the nearest cave for shelter. She was still not sure she could trust Ruirech but was not ready to ride on alone.

  And Bren looked like he meant to stab the rebel.

  She’d not wanted to admit it but when she watched him riding away as if the Four were after him, she had no choice. Bren had been intending to stab the rebel. No doubt he’d tried during the night and failed—probably through a lack of courage—explaining why he had moved.

  “Ye’re also bleeding,” she said, caressing his cheek with a finger and showing him the blood. “Come. There’s a spring close by. Crows are festering, so we need to bathe the wounds.”

  “You know the area that well?”

  “I was brought up near here,” she said, picking up her horse’s reins and heading off the road, as if she had decided to chase her brother after all.

  Ruirech followed without question, and before long, they were standing beside a crystal-clear pool. A cascade gushing from a hole in the rocks above kept the surface constantly mobile, the splashes catching the morning’s wan light and sparkling like Western Wastes diamonds. The pool’s edge was the height of a tall man above the water’s rippling surface. The rebel whistled, making Bee smile. Her heart leapt at memories of times she’d spent bathing in these waters. Now, in the winter, the trees were bare but vibrant with good health. The waters of the spring were rich in minerals that promoted growth in the flora and would help to prevent their wounds from becoming infected. She gazed at the pool’s bottom through the wispy tendrils of steam rising from the surface, and her thoughts of Bren and Rhiannon and who might have sent the crows evaporated with the steam.

  Bee would replenish her spirits in these waters and worry about what was happening after. “It’s deeper than it looks,” she said. “I used to strip off and dive in.”

  “The water’s warm,” Ruirech said, staring at the steam. Bee laughed and gave him a little shove. “What?”

  “Nothing, Rebel. Come on. Best place to wash the wounds is in the pool, so it is.”

  As Bee spoke, she started stripping off her clothes. Although she had her back to him, she could feel the rebel looking at her. When she turned quickly, he averted his eyes, blushing, and she smiled. Usually, she would take offence at his lechery, but now, in this situation, she couldn’t be bothered with the drama. At least he had the grace to turn away in embarrassment. Besides, her body was lithe, not unlike a human female in the blossom of youth, and she thought his staring was understandable.

  In truth, I’d be offended if he didn’t look, she realised. A little, anyway.

  “Hurry on, Ruirech. The sooner we get the salts in the cuts, the better,” she called before diving in.

  Swimming below like a cumbersome brown bear it was as though she could feel the salts sloughing off her pains and exhaustion. The water stung her eyes, but she welcomed it, sure the sting meant the healing properties were still there.

  When her lungs began to burn, Bee swam to the surface, spluttering and splashing, feeling an elation beyond the pool’s healing powers. When she awoke in the morning, she’d felt well for the first time in a long time, but now she felt a surge of happiness. The salts were making her skin tingle, and she laughed again at the energy the water gave.

  I feel so good, she thought, as she kept afloat by treading water.

  She supposed, at least in part, the minerals and warmth of the pool were helping, but it was more than that. Wiping her wet hair back from her face, she looked up at the pool’s edge.

  “Are ye coming?” she called to the rebel, who was still standing with his eyes averted, no less attractive than a few days before when he unknowingly sparked the first stirrings. She smiled at the memory of her laugh when she’d seen the rebel’s physical appeal. “Well?”

  Ruirech nodded but didn’t move. “Come, Rebel. I won’t bite. Not much, anyway.”

  Turning his back, he slowly removed his armour and clothes. Eventually, Bee watched him turn back with his hands trying to hide what she’d suspected would be there. When he tumbled into the pool, trying to be graceful while still hiding his excitement, she guffawed in delight.

  “What’s so funny?” Ruirech demanded, treading water with his back to her.

  “Ye trying to hide yer arousal is hilarious,” Bee said, splashing him.

  “What arou—”

  She didn’t allow him to finish. Spinning him around, she kissed him, deciding that trust could come later. First, she needed a little emotional support. Or maybe more than just a little.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  ***

  By the time they’d finished bathing their wounds, the middle of the day had come and gone. They returned to the road and continued their journey with little in the way of talk. Bee didn’t think Ruirech’s near silence was any reflection on their lovemaking. At first, they’d been hungry, passionate, almost violent, but after climbing from the pool, their coupling on the bank had been more tender. With the warmth coming from the earth around the spring, by the time they were spent, they were also dry, so they’d dressed and returned to the road.

  They camped that night with very little said between them, following the ritual of Bee tending the horses while Ruirech cooked. As she slept, her dreams were free of visits, and they rose earlier to continue with the talk free ride along the coast road. By midmorning, they arrived at the North road and turned towards North Kingdom’s capital.

  The ride wore on, and Bee became less sure the silence was companionable rather than awkward. She suspected regrets were taking root for the rebel, which was not a bad thing. If he decided it had been a mistake, she wouldn’t have to tell him there was no future in a romantic interlude. Not that she thought it was a mistake, but, as a moment of relief during stress, it shouldn’t be repeated. Emotional attachment was not the same as emotional support, and she hoped the rebel would see that.

  Bee’s contemplation of how best to tell him they couldn’t repeat their indiscretion halted when they rounded a rock and saw Mount Solitude for the first time. She drew rein and gazed at the mountain where she grew up. She’d seen her first fifteen summers come and go, living on the side of this great lump. That had been until Dagda and Danu became close and she was brought to live with them. Those four summers were hard and she couldn’t wait to return to Solitude and finish her training.

  Alone on the plains of Mag nAi, Solitude went up in tiers until its peak many paces above the plains. Upthog taught her the arcane arts in a roundhouse on the third tier, halfway to the top.

  “Or halfway from the bottom,” she whispered.

  “Are you well, Bee?” Ruirech asked.

  “Aye. That’s where I grew up, so it is.”

  “Oh. Where you trained to be a witch?”

  “Aye. With me mother, me real mother, Upthog.” Ruirech nodded, realising that telling Bee Rhiannon was her real mother wasn’t a good idea, which she appreciated. She didn’t want to smear Upthog’s memory by elevating a Goddess whom she hardly knew above the woman who raised her from a baby. Not only raised her but also made Bee ready to take the role of Dagda’s High Priestess.

  “I want to have a look,” she said.

  When Ruirech suggested they camp on the mountain, Bee felt he was more sensitive to those around him than she’d previously allowed. She’d considered him a little of a brute, if an attractive one, who would think of himself and his need for revenge over all else. Like most of the humans she’d met, truth be told.

  Maybe I should do as Rhiannon suggested and trust him, she thought. I need to trust someone, or my mission is doomed.

  When they came parallel with the mountain, Bee had to search for the path, which, although overgrown, had been visible the last time she was here. That was long before the last Scourge, she thought, guilt causing a lump in her gut.

  A talon strike killed Upthog during Bee’s first demon war. Some of the witches always died, despite not being in the fighting line. The demons targeted the witches in the hope of opening the Tuatha warriors to magical attack. After the battle, Bee burned her mother on a pyre, keeping the ashes. When that war was over, she scattered them in the glade where their roundhouse stood. Bee couldn’t stay there, because she needed to go to the Fae Realm to recover. At first, out of a sense of duty to her mother, she returned often when she wasn’t sleeping off a war. Her visits became less frequent over the summers, until they stopped altogether.

  How easy it is to forget duty, she mused, which immediately made her remember the demon’s words. Apparently, her father wanted her to remember her duty, even though she didn’t know who he was or what the supposed duty might be.

  Dhuosnos take yer duty.

  “Ah, there y’are,” she said, spotting the path through intuition rather than seeing it. Turning to Ruirech, she said, “Best we walk.”

  Bee swung out of her saddle and led the horse into the scrubland. After a little while, the path became clearer, and she thought the mountain’s wildlife must use it away from the road. Looking over her shoulder, she could see Ruirech struggling after her, deep in thought.

  What will I say to him? she wondered.

  She’d often heard humans use the phrase age means nothing but thought there were limits. Bee had lived many times the lifespan of the man walking behind her. That wasn’t all, though. As he aged, Ruirech would become frail and would grow to resent her seemingly eternal youth.

  Emotional support, not attachment, she reminded herself as they walked into the clearing where she used to live. There was little sign of the roundhouse, just a smooth area that seemed a perfect circle, which hinted at something nature hadn’t created.

  With her hands on her hips, reins in hand, Bee gazed around the clearing with a sense of loss. This is a day of contrasts, she thought.

  “There’s not much left,” Ruirech said, putting his arms around Bee from behind.

  “Ye get a fire going, and I’ll tend to the horses,” she said, pulling away from his embrace none too gently.

  Watching the rebel as she unsaddled the horses, Bee saw confusion shining out from his face like a beacon. By the time she’d completed her horse husbandry, the rebel was leaning over his cauldron, stirring the contents. The aroma wafting from the pot made Bee realise they hadn’t eaten since breaking their fast.

  “Smells good,” she said, sitting opposite him, the fire between them. Ruirech continued stirring the cauldron, saying nothing. “I didn’t mean to hurt ye, Rebel.”

  “What?” he asked, looking up at her. “Sorry, I was distracted. What did you say?”

  “Nothing. A silver for yer thoughts.”

  The warrior blushed and started to furiously stir the contents of his pot. Bee was wondering if the salts of the pool had seeped into his brain somehow, when he said, “I’ve been a fool, Bee, and I’m sorry.”

  “This morning, ye mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ye regret what we did?”

  “I do, and I’m sorry.”

  “Ye better give me good reason,” Bee said, feeling an inexplicable switch in humour. Suddenly, a deep-rooted anger had replaced feelings of happiness and satisfaction. It was as if she were the only one who should put a stop to ideas of romance.

  “I’m betrothed,” he blurted. “And I used you to stave off loneliness. I tried not to, but… well, you’re a beautiful woman. I couldn’t help myself.”

  Bee shook her head. Of all the things she’d been expecting, that was the last. They’d spent several days together, and the rebel hadn’t mentioned love and romance once. There’d been no longing for a woman left behind.

  “If me memory isn’t failing, Rebel, it was me did the seducing,” she hissed, angry and relieved at the same time. “Let’s just agree to say we both needed to say goodbye to too much solitude.”