Cu’s deep voice was so normal-so ordinary-so in complete contradiction to what was going on within her head. He was just a man, talking to a woman. Not a human warrior who was freakishly mated to a centaur Huntress. Not a man joining his mate in a futile quest that would either be successful and lead them blindly into deep waters, or unsuccessful and strand them to flail about in unconsummated shallows. He was just a man-the man who cared about and accepted her. It calmed her and anchored her heaving emotions. Perhaps it shouldn’t-perhaps she was being foolish-but it did.

“Brighid,” he repeated. “We can keep traveling. The moon is nearly full, and after it rises the road will be easy to follow. But the day has been long.” He smiled. “Honestly, I’d prefer camping and beginning renewed at dawn.”

She returned his smile gratefully, feeling the ice that had been holding her emotions in check all day begin to thaw. “Do you know if there are any villages close by?”

“Mostly between here and McNamara Castle there’s nothing but vineyards and forest.” He jerked his chin to the right of the road. “We could climb to the top of the plateau. Should still be grassy up there and a decent place to camp.”

“Lead the way,” she said, relieved that she could mindlessly follow him for at least a little while.

Slowing considerably, Cuchulainn nosed his gelding between a break in the trees that lined the road. Almost immediately, the land became an incline, angling up and up until they finally emerged from a scattering of oaks and pines onto the plateau that eventually gave way to the imposing cliffs over the B’an Sea. The sun had already set, but the ocean horizon was still stained with the burned colors left by a dying sun. For a moment they simply stood quietly watching the close of another day. Then Cuchulainn dismounted and tossed the reins of the extra mount to Brighid.

“I’ll gather some firewood if you unpack the supplies. I don’t think we’ll need the tent up tonight. Sky looks clear and it’s been warm enough.”

Before she could answer, he and the buckskin gelding disappeared back into the trees. At least unpacking and setting up a temporary camp would keep her occupied. She was hungry. When had she eaten last? That morning before she lit Niam’s pyre and handfasted with Cuchulainn. Had all of that happened just this morning?

Oh, Goddess. She stopped suddenly in the middle of untying a pack. Tonight is my wedding night. The thought made her fingers slow and clumsy. Breathe, just breathe. She pulled the last pack free from the horse and gave the mare a quick, perfunctory wipe down before she hobbled her and then began pulling supplies from the packs, silently thanking Etain when she discovered the generous skins of rich red wine.

She was taking a long pull from one of the skins when Cuchulainn dropped the load of dry branches near her.

“I’ve made you turn to drink already, and we haven’t even been married one full day,” he said, smiling boyishly.

“Just thirsty,” she said.

His chuckle was more of a grunt.

“Want some?” she asked.

“Definitely-as soon as I unsaddle the gelding and settle him in. I think I’m thirsty, too.” He grinned at her and led the gelding over to where the mare was already grazing.

Nervous and uncomfortable, Brighid busied herself with building the campfire. By the time he rejoined her she had thick slabs of salted pork frying and cheese and bread laid out on a blanket.

“By the Goddess, that smells good!”

She told herself to relax and smile at him. “You wouldn’t believe the supplies wrapped away in those packs. I won’t have to hunt for days.”

“Wynne’s doing,” Cuchulainn said.

“Not the wine.” Brighid tossed a skin to him. “This has your mother’s touch all over it.”

Cuchulainn uncapped it and drank. Then he sighed in pleasure. “May Epona bless my mother for her love of fine wine.”

“And her willingness to share.”

Cu grunted his agreement before taking another drink. Then he sighed and reclined next to the Huntress near the campfire. Before long, they were both busy forking hot pork onto bread and relishing the sharp tang of the well-aged cheese. Cuchulainn was almost finished with his third helping, and was feeling relaxed and replete, when he gave a little half laugh of remembrance.

“These sandwiches will always remind me of El.”

“El? Why?” Brighid asked, clearing her mouth with another long drink of the excellent wine.

“Well, she was a loner-liked to go off by herself, especially in the years before she studied at the Temple of the Muse. Mother didn’t want to restrict her, so she let her explore, even allowed her to go all the way up to the fringes of Ufasach Marsh, under only one condition.”

“That you accompany her?”

Cuchulainn grinned. “You guessed it.” He raised the small piece that was all that remained of his last sandwich. “These were a favorite of hers whenever we went camping. I imagine she was behind making sure that Wynne included them in our provisions.”

“Nice of her to think of that,” Brighid said.

“She’s like that. She remembers small things-always has,” Cuchulainn said, his voice and face softened as he thought of his sister.

“So you two have always been close? Even when you were young?”

Cuchulainn nodded. “Always. It was just us until the twins were born when I was six and El was seven. Arianrhod and Finegas were so much younger.” He shrugged. “And they had each other.”

“Like you and El had each other,” Brighid said.

“Yes.” His smile didn’t reach the sadness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry that I’ve taken you away from her,” Brighid said slowly.

“You haven’t taken me anywhere. I handfasted with you willingly. I don’t want you to ever think otherwise. And this-” he gestured absently around them “-isn’t your fault. Neither you nor I wanted to leave MacCallan Castle, but it was the right thing to do. It was what we had to do.”

She almost blurted that it was what she had to do, not him, but the stubborn set of his jaw had her sipping from the much depleted wineskin and keeping quiet instead.

“So tell me about what you were like when you were young,” he said, motioning for her to pass him the wine. “My guess is that you were much like El-you liked to be off by yourself.”

Instead of answering him right away, she fed the fire more branches and they were both silent as the logs popped and cracked.

“Brighid,” he said her name and waited for her to shift her gaze to his. “You made me talk to you when I wanted only to crawl into a dark hole and lick my wounds. You wouldn’t let me give up on life.”

“And now it’s your turn to do the same for me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Right now, though, I’d just like for my wife to be able to speak easily with me about her past.”

Wife…the word was heavy in the night air. Brighid took another long drink of wine, welcoming its warmth and its ability to loosen the bonds she kept carefully in place around the past.

“It’s hard,” she began haltingly. “I’m not used to talking about it.”

“Well, take your time. We have all night.” He popped the last of the bread and meat into his mouth and then shifted the saddle that he’d propped behind him as a backrest, using the same movement to edge closer to her. Looking comfortable and settled, he leaned back, bringing himself within touching distance of her. “It’s just us. Fand’s not even here to listen in.”

“Or to yip annoyingly,” Brighid said.

“Wolves don’t yip. They growl.”

“Whatever you want to call it, the cub is annoying.”

“Which is one of the reasons I left her at the castle,” he said. “And the children like her. They’ll keep her occupied.”

“They’re equally as annoying.”

Cuchulainn laughed. “I won’t even begin to deny that.”

Brighid smiled at him, captured by his infectious laugh. “Just like the cub, they never stopped making noise.”