Page 31 of Ulune's Daughter

“Eoghan. I apologize for whatever the Hells he had to say.”

I chuckle. “No need. I met another Darkswerd. Hot pink hair. Rachel?”

Struan nods.

“She’s very pleasant. I gather she’s one of my mate’s friends from college.”

“Bevington? You’re still there, right?”

I nod. “Luca’s happy there. I suspect he’ll want to stay and get another degree or two.”

Struan shrugs. “No bad thing. It’s close to your father’s hall and Ivywhile. The new Holly King is a fae worth knowing.”

“Is he? Interesting. We’ve not met since he ascended, but I’m welcome at Ivywhile. I’ll pay him a visit.”

Struan nods over my shoulder. “They’re beginning to take shape.”

“Yes, I feel them. This side of the Veil or the other?”

“The other. The Regent requires all fights be confined to Faery.”

“Yet another reason the courts are losing ground in the mortal world,” I observe.

Struan nods sadly. His mother is Tylwyth Teg; his father Cait. Struan is welcome among both high and low fae; his easygoing nature ensures his easy passage between the two.

Together, we shift to our fur and run into the river, crossing the Veil.

My form in Faery is a Cait of old: seven feet long with razors for teeth and claws. The Mirkbeasts have gathered along the border, skulking and stinking of the carrion they eat. When two Cait warriors leap through the Veil, they draw back, gibbering, their shadow forms fraying. A snarl from their leader, a Mirkmutt the size of my Cait, but hunched and twisted with a huge crest of ragged, black fur tapering off to stunted haunches that he drags along behind his powerful forelegs, firms their will.

Too late. Struan and I tear through them. Their black blood fouls my mouth and I spit it out even as I crunch and crush another in my jaws. I toss their broken bodies aside until I reach the Mirkmutt. It whines and rolls its balefire eyes but doesn’t retreat.

Trusting Struan to keep the lesser Mirkbeasts off me, I lunge at their leader.

It skitters to the side, claws lashing. Fire scores my shoulder. Its claws will be poisoned in the way of its kind. I’ll need Luca to lick the wounds clean when I return. But for now, the burning in my shoulder only enrages me, makes me bellow as I rear back and clamp my jaws on its arched neck.

The Mirkmutt screams as my teeth slice deep, seeking its spine. It tries to shake me off, but I clamp my forearms around it, my claws digging into its rotting hide. I bite again and again, until finally the spine snaps and the Mirkmutt goes limp in my paws.

I spit its rank blood out of my mouth and swipe my claws at one of the lesser Mirkbeasts as they flee, lost and leaderless.

Struan grabs another before it gets away and snaps its neck as he rises into his skin.

“You’re hurt?”

I shift into my skin so I can speak. “Nothing serious.”

“It would be my honor to lick the wounds clean.”

I rest a bloody hand on his bare shoulder. “Thank you, but my twin will tend me. My mate visits your court tonight. Would you keep an eye on her for me?”

“The raven-girl? Kellan?”

Interesting. Other than the freaky chicken, I haven’t noticed that she has an affinity for ravens. But I suppose the freaky chicken should have been enough of a sign.

“Consummated but not yet claimed,” I explain. “She doesn’t feel it.”

“Ah.” Struan hangs his head. I know his situation was similar. He recognized his mate on first meeting her but had to wait for years. She was a child when they met. That she was also the Thistle Regent’s daughter, and Struan a Houseless Cait, only complicated things. But it ended well. From memory, she’s born him two children. “I would be happy to watch over her any time you wish. Just send word.”

“I will. I’d like to meet your mate and your kits. Bring them to the All-fire this year?”

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