Page 156 of Ulune's Daughter

“Cupcake?” I lift my eyebrows at Kellan.

“My friend Teddy’s husband Gabe. We were trying to explain the concept of a cinnamon roll to Teddy and she told us her boys were all sweet buns. It’s hard to tell with Charlie and Darwin; they keep their tender sides hidden. Gabe shows his. He’s super-sweet. So, a cupcake.”

“Ah.” I take her hand and lead her toward the Trophy House. “I’m a cupcake.”

“Think so? Hmm. I’d rather you were a filet mignon. Perfectly firm and slightly crispy on the outside, tender on the inside.”

“I am also a filet mignon.”

A soft laugh from my mate. “Whatever I say I want, you’re going to say you are that, aren’t you?”

“Yes, because I’ll always be whatever you need.”

She rests her head on my shoulder. “That’s better than being a cupcake. Or a filet mignon.”

I’m still a cupcake.

I usher her into the Trophy House. It’s undressed stone on the outside, smooth-hewn pine within. It smells like a sauna. A three-foot-wide metal dish sits in the middle of the floor holding the Mother’s eternal flame, which casts flickering shadows into the corners of the hall. The flame’s reflected back from thousands of small facets. Simple wooden racks sit against the walls and down the center of the hall, stretching to the ceiling. Each shelf contains a collection of crystals with a few strands of hair caught within.

With no small amount of pride, I lead Kellan to my shelf. Several hundred crystals. I pick one up, containing a very short braid of gray hair, and hand it to Kellan. “My first. My grandfather. His gift for my nineth birthday was for me to hunt him. He was old. He didn’t go very far or hide very well. Still, my first victory. I’ll always be glad it was him.”

Kellan turns it around in her fingers. “I smell sun-warmed cotton, cattails, and fresh fish, just caught.”

I smile at the memories of my grandfather. “He was a great fisherman. He taught me.”

“I’m lucky if I can catch seaweed with a big net. Will you teach me?”

“It would be my pleasure. Salmon from the river might even keep me out of the piskie sheep for a while.”

Kellan snorts. “Mypiskie sheep.”

“I’m your consort. Surely they’reourpiskie sheep.”

“Not a chance, buddy. I know what your plans are formypiskie sheep.”

Grinning, I take my first crystal back from Kellan and replace it on the shelf. I lead her a little way down the long rack and point to my grandfather’s collection of crystals. “When a Cait warrior passes, they leave their trophies.” I pick up my grandfather’s first hunt. “My great-great grandfather.”

“For your grandfather’s nineth birthday?” Kellan asks.

I nod. “He started the tradition. It’s a good tradition. It gives the kit confidence. Something to brag about. But there’s no risk to the kit. I didn’t think of that when I was nine. Only the thrill of the hunt. Someday, I’d like to gift my own kits a hunt for their nineth birthday.”

Kellan smiles as she takes the crystal from me. “Warm summer afternoons. Tea with milk. Strawberries.”

“Ask my father to tell you the story of his great-grandfather and the King’s strawberries. I’ve heard it too many times to enjoy it, but you may.”

“I will.” Kellan looks down the rack, stretching the length of the hall. “How far does this go back?”

“Here at Cait House, fourteen generations. In older dens, all the way back to the first of our kind. It’s a very old tradition.”

I pick up another crystal, this one with pink hair inside it that once belonged to a Faery’s knight’s horse. Kellan turns it around in her fingers. I see the moment she remembers the story I told her about the Squire’s horse. We laugh together.

After replacing the crystals on my shelf, I lead her to the Mother’s flame. I take out the small length of Eoghan’s hair and undo the knot Struan’s tied in it to keep it together. Fanning the crimson strands across my fingers, I divide the pile in half and hold out my hand to Kellan.

She carefully collects half of the hair with her claws. “Do I just throw it in?”

I nod. “Cait aren’t ones for ceremony. I just thank the Mother for my victory and for letting me return safely to my den.”

Kellan whispers the words, then tosses the hair into the fire. She wrinkles her nose at the smell as it burns.

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