Page 136 of Shadow Spell

“Your heart’s talking.”

“It is, and if your head wasn’t talking so bloody loud, you’d hear your own.” He drew her back. “If you won’t trust your heart, trust your blood. And mine.”

“I am.”

He gathered his own tools and readied himself for the night to come.

They met at the big stables, and at Fin’s request, Connor saddled Aine, the white filly Fin bought to breed with Alastar.

“I thought Fin was taking Baru, his stallion.”

Connor glanced back at Meara. She wore sturdy boots, rough pants, a thick belt with her sword and sheath carried on it. He knew Iona had braided charms in her hair.

And she wore his necklace over a flannel shirt.

“So he is. We’re to take Aine, and Iona and Boyle take Alastar. The third horse makes the getting there easier.”

“So we’re riding to Sorcha’s cabin.”

“In a way. You’re prepared for what’s to come?”

“As well as I can be.”

He reached across the saddle for her hand. “We’ll come through it.”

“I believe that.”

Together, they led the horse out to join the others in the pale light of a crescent moon. “Once we’re there it must go quickly, without a missed step. My father, Iona’s grandmother, Fin’s cousin, they’ll have ahold of things, and they’ll bring us back should things go wrong.”

“You’ll bring me back,” she said.

Once he’d mounted, she swung up behind him. He glanced at Boyle and Iona already on a restless Alastar.

Wants to be going, he does, to be doing.

He saw Fin gather up the little mutt, mount the black stallion, then hold his hand down to Branna.

“It’s hard for her,” Connor murmured. “To go with him this way.”

“Hard for him as well.”

But Branna mounted, then signaled to Kathel. The hound raced off. Overhead Roibeard called, and Fin’s Merlin answered.

“Hold on to me,” Connor advised, and the three horses leaped forward in a gallop.

Then they flew.

“Sweet Jesus!” Meara’s big laugh followed the exclamation. “This is brilliant! Why haven’t we done this before?”

The wind streamed by, cool and damp, while clouds winked over the moon and away again. The air filled with the scent of spice and earth, of things going bold before they settled down to rest.

They flew, riding the air above that earth, into the deep, and straight through the vines to Sorcha’s cabin.

“Quickly now,” Connor told her.

He had to leave her to move to Branna and Iona, to cast the circle, a hundred candles, the bowls, the cauldron.

Branna opened the silver box, removed the dream potion.

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