As the grey light of a new dawn stabbed into the camp, Bee snorted and wondered if she would ever sleep again. Despite her breath misting, she found the cold bracing rather than uncomfortable. The silence on the mountain was typical of a winter’s morning; peaceful because many animals were hibernating, and the birds had flown south, following the sun. After recent days, when the noise had seemed constant, she found the peace almost eerie, as if Nature were once again awaiting something momentous.

  It would be nice to migrate away from me worries, she thought, thinking a pair of wings and a southwards flight were just what she needed. Of course, he wouldn’t run, she continued the thought, watching the rebel.

  Ruirech had his back to her, feigning sleep and not doing it well, the cloud of steam a sure indication that his breathing was not the shallow breathing of one deep in sleep. Despite his poor acting, Bee was happy to let him keep his own counsel, because she had enough to occupy her mind; more than enough.

  During the long, sleepless night, she’d been wondering why her brother ran, because it didn’t make any sense. Or, put more accurately, it didn’t make sense in a way she wanted to accept.

  Why would he run? Why would anyone run? Coupled with the murderous crows, she kept coming back to, How did the crow sender know where to send the damned birds? Those two thoughts kept her awake. She suspected the crows indicated which of the Higher Tuatha was their enemy. However, like the direwolf on the plains, just because one preferred a particular animal as a familiar, it didn’t mean others wouldn’t use them. Maybe it might mean the opposite, because it would be easy to divert suspicion by doing so. But more worryingly, she had purposely not told Rhiannon where they were, and yet one of the Tuatha somehow knew.

  Eogan might have betrayed them, but she didn’t think so. They’d known each other far too long and, even if unhappy at her refusing his advice, Eogan could be trusted. She had to believe he could be trusted.

  The rebel probably wouldn’t have done it because his involvement was accidental. There might have been a spy on the Sea Wolf or in the caves of Clamas reporting back, but again, she didn’t think so. Her instinct told her one of Ruirech or Bren had betrayed them, and she had a strong notion about which one she trusted the least.

  How to prove it? Bee couldn’t act without certainty. It was not in her nature. She might not respect her brother or miss his company but would not accuse him of betrayal without evidence.

  “I never met her,” Ruirech broke into her thoughts without turning.

  “Who?”

  She knew the answer but wanted some time to think about how she might discourage the rebel from making excuses. She had no interest in listening to him or assuaging his guilt for betraying someone he now claimed he’d never met. She had much more pressing issues to concern herself with.

  “My betrothed, Latis. She’s a Northern princess. From Tayvir, as it happens. Dornalai, um, Goibniu, suggested the match and brokered the marriage contract. He thought it would be a good alliance considering the coming war.”

  “The Smith?” Bee asked, suspecting her incredulity was evident.

  “I know, surprising. Why would someone so untrustworthy do anything to help?”

  “What d’ye mean, untrustworthy?”

  “I heard you whispering about not trusting The Smith just before the crows attacked. I would trust him with my life, to be honest. Why do you think he’s not on our side?”

  “There’s sides now?” Bee asked, unable to suppress a grin.

  “Haven’t there always been sides?”

  “Aye, I suppose. Not sure who’s on which, or even if we’re...” Bee hesitated, unsure she wanted to voice her worries, before realising it didn’t matter—nothing could ever come of their encounter. “I’m not even sure we’re on the same side, so I’m not.”

  Rather than the expected explosion of wrath, the rebel sat up and turned to face her. Lifting his knees, Ruirech leaned forward and put his forearms on them before he said, “I’m not the man who’d make love to an enemy. It’s not in my nature.”

  “Making love. Is that what we were at, Rebel?”

  “It’s nothing but a polite way to say humping,” Ruirech said. She could see his blush despite the early morning light.

  Humping? Aye, not a polite way to put it, so.

  “Good. Because I’m old enough to be Etercel’s great-grandmother.”

  “Age is just a—”

  “Don’t say it, Rebel,” Bee interrupted, holding a hand up. “I’m up to me eyes with asinine horseshit.”

  “I just wanted to—”

  “It doesn’t matter. We both needed some solace, so we did. Let’s just accept that we needed comfort and took it when offered.”

  “All right then.”

  “Come on,” she said, standing and wiping the seat of her pants with both hands. “The sooner we get to Tayvir, the better.”

  If she were to compare the ride with the previous day’s silent drag, Bee would say it was a little bit improved. Not perfect, but better. The rebel seemed easier now he’d told her of his trust in Dorn, or perhaps his acceptance that nothing would come of their intimacy. She hadn’t really believed his reasoning about The Smith was sound, but the exchange seemed to have eased his mind somehow. Tayvir was twenty leagues from Mount Solitude, so despite her butt being battered well beyond sunset each day, it was early afternoon of the second after they left her childhood home that they saw the bridge crossing the Big River and the hill of Tayvir behind. The ramparts surrounded the ráth, but from their elevation, they could see the thatch of roundhouses and the smoke rising from the holes, one in each roof. The feast hall was a roundhouse in the centre of the settlement, much larger than any of the other visible buildings.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  It was not the city that caused Bee to draw rein and whistle. A vast, bluish white moon at the full was floating above North Kingdom’s capital. The same moon she’d seen when they were running from Caisel. The moon she’d dreaded seeing since her mother told her she’d been watching her.

  “She’s here,” Bee said, sure she was right.

  “How?” Ruirech asked, knowing immediately who Bee meant. “We left her on the pier at Ceathru. How could she be here?”

  “We sailed to Camas Clochai. She could easily have sailed for Indber Colptha. Even a slow ship would’ve made the crossing quicker.” Ruirech nodded but said nothing. “Come. I suspect this meeting’s been fated from the outset.”

  A single long, plaintive howl haunted the air as they neared the bridge. Bee turned to where she guessed it came from in time to see a wolfpack crest a near rise. In the middle of the pack was the white direwolf that morphed into her mother on the pier at Ceathru. Their horses whinnied and snorted, tossing their manes and pawing the road as the pack surrounded them. It took a massive effort for Bee to keep seat and stop her animal from bolting. The rebel was faring no better beside her.

  As before, when it reached them, the direwolf stood on its hind legs and turned into the naked moon Goddess. This time, there was no warrior nearby to throw a cloak over her, but she stood before them tall, strong, and proud, apparently unaware that she was naked.

  “Mother,” Bee said. “Ye’re scaring the mounts.”

  “Get down and I will calm them,” Rhiannon said.

  When they had dismounted, her mother laid a hand on the nose of each horse in turn and whispered soothing words in a language that Bee didn’t know. The horses calmed immediately and began cropping grass as if nothing was amiss.

  “I thought I was supposed to meet ye in Breshlech,” Bee said.

  Ignoring her, Rhiannon said to the rebel, “What are you staring at?”

  Bee turned in time to see Ruirech look away, blushing like a ripe apple on a sunny autumn morning. Shaking her head, she said, “He’s young and unable to control his instinct to stare at the naked female form.”

  “Well, I can cure him of that malady easily enough,” her mother said, stepping forward and placing her index finger between his eyes. Entranced, the warrior neither moved nor attempted to defend himself.

  “Don’t hurt him. He’s harmless, so he is,” Bee said, reaching out to grasp her mother’s wrist.

  “I have no intention of hurting him, Bechuille.”

  Bee watched as Ruirech’s eyes took on a dreamy quality, and he stared at the main gates to the settlement, neither blinking nor turning away.

  “Ye were going to tell me about Breshlech,” she said, satisfied that the rebel would recover from his trance.

  “I knew you would not listen, so I drove you north with the intention of intercepting you here. I find speaking face to face is much more successful than visiting dreams.”

  “How did ye know we’d come to Tayvir?”

  “Where else would you go? For some reason, you are convinced that Goibniu is a friend. You told me he was reporting to Danu, and to return he must use the portal here because he thinks you are at Camas. You cannot trust him, Bechuille.”

  “Who can I trust?” Bee asked, trying not to whine and sure she was failing. “Dagda lied to me. The Smith is Danu’s vassal and not an ally. Seems to me that I have no one.”

  “You have me. It is true that Dagda lied to you, but he did so because he had to. I think you can trust this human. I watched you showing each other a fair bit of trust at the pool—”

  “Mother,” Bee interrupted, feeling a blush flash up from her neckline.

  “Sorry,” Rhiannon said, the twinkle in her eyes showing anything but an apology. “I was making sure you were safe. Anyway, keep him close, My Child. You will need him before the end.”

  “I will? Can ye tell me what’s happening?”

  “Some of it. First, where is your brother?”

  “He ran. I think he might be working for the enemy.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Bee hesitated for a few moments before remembering that she’d decided to trust her mother. Rhiannon’s pained expression when Bee let slip that she thought the Goddess tried to kill them, still had the same force as it had at the time. Grabbing her mistrust like a bull dancer would grab a bull’s horns, she explained why she suspected her brother. As she told the story, the Goddess seemed to be sleeping with her eyes open, remaining perfectly still, not even blinking. Bee felt so relaxed in her tale that she also told her mother of Credne’s involvement, and how they thought he’d been working for her. She told how Goibniu said it was probably Rhiannon who visited Bee on the plains before Caisel, one of the reasons she continued to run. She explained how Goibniu rescued Bren from Breshlech and how they vanished when Credne was waiting for them in Sliabh Cuilinn.

  “I can see where your fear about Brenos arises,” her mother said. “However, everything that is happening revolves around you both.”

  “What does that even mean?” Bee asked, her mind once again a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts.

  “Trust me, My Child. I beg you to put aside your doubts and know you are both destined to save the Fae Realm. But you must be together to do it. I need you to find Brenos and bring him to me at Breshlech.”

  “I’ve no idea where he might be.”

  “Put yourself in your brother’s mind. You are more closely bonded than you think.”

  “Would ye or yer wolves not be better at tracking?”

  “The wolves need to return to their pack. Winter is a time when a pack is most vulnerable. And I think you would find him far quicker than I could. The bond of twins connects you.”

  Bee nodded, remembering the feeling she’d had each time she touched him. Because they were separated at birth there had been no physical contact between, not until she grabbed his wrist when facing the direwolf. That connection not only caused a surge of power, but also something else she had not considered. She’d felt something, some bond that Rhiannon’s words allowed her to define.

  “I’m still a bit hazy on what’s happening.”

  “As you already told me in our dream discussion, this is not about Lia Fáil. Someone is trying to get the dagger and the compass to Dhuosnos in Tech Duinn. Whatever happens, the Lord of Darkness must not get them. If he does, the invasion of the Fae Realm will be nothing but a formality. But worse than that, he will have access to all the planes with his demon horde. Anywhere with a portal will be open to invasion.”

  “How will they get the tools into Tech Duinn?” Bee asked, rubbing her scar with an index finger.

  “I do not know. They must have devised some means to do it, otherwise why go to all this trouble?”

  “Do you think Bren has something to do with it?”

  “We must assume that he does. Do you think you can find your brother?” the Goddess asked.

  “Where should I start?” Bee asked, more of a spoken thought than a genuine question.

  “You should start in the settlement,” Rhiannon said nodding at the hill of Tayvir. “He, too, was running towards The Smith, I think. Do not forget, Bechuille, trust your connection. I wish you good fortune in the hunt.”

  “I’ll do me best, so I will.”

  “You can wake that one with a slap, but please wait until I have gone. If he stares at me like that again, I fear I will not be so forgiving. He will find it difficult to provide you with emotional support if I remove his… well, his prize possessions, let me say.”

  Bee continued to laugh until her mother and the wolfpack were lost to view. In the end, it took several slaps to wake Ruirech from his trance. Even so, he was woozy when he climbed back into the saddle. So much so, he didn’t question why he was off his horse in the first place.

  “So, it was just a full moon,” he said, nodding at the orb floating above the settlement’s hill.

  Bee smiled at him and said, “Aye, just a false alarm, so it was. Come on, the sooner we get into Tayvir, the sooner ye’ll be reunited with Dorn.”