But now he decided the unease had little to do with their grueling journey. Before Brenna had been killed Cuchulainn would have pushed aside any hint of intuition or Feeling that could not be explained by something as mundane as exhaustion. Brenna’s tragic death had taught him that it was unwise as well as dangerous to ignore Feelings of any type. He had learned a painful lesson-and he had learned it well. Unlike the day Brenna had been killed he would be vigilant and wise in protecting Brighid. He would not have another love snatched from him. He couldn’t survive it. If something happened to Brighid his soul would fragment into so many pieces it would be impossible to put back together again.

Which was why he kept his sword nearby and his senses alert as he built a fire at the mouth of the cave, unloaded their packs, and simmered the food he hoped would revive Brighid. When she didn’t move from her place near the clearing’s edge his unease increased. When he spoke his voice was unintentionally gruff.

“I thought you didn’t like heights.”

She didn’t respond at first but then her equine coat quivered. The stone centaur she had seemed to be drew a deep breath, became living flesh again. She turned to him. Her eyes were dark and shadowed with weariness and worry, but she smiled and managed a teasing tone.

“Why is it everyone knows that I don’t like heights?”

He shrugged and waggled his brows at her. “I thought it was a well-known centaur thing.” He held a wineskin up and jiggled it so she could hear its heavy sloshing. “I have wine.”

With a sigh she walked slowly into the cave and took the skin from him. Drinking, she looked around. Its opening was spacious. The top didn’t end till well above her head, but the inside didn’t live up to the entrance’s promise of space. The smooth, sand-colored walls looked like they had been formed by a giant’s spoon hollowing out a taste of the gentle tor, but they narrowed to a tunnel in the rear corner that was barely big enough for the clear stream of water. Cuchulainn’s fire licked the walls with flame, changing the brown to gold and orange. As she stared the colors ran together and blurred, so that it seemed for a moment that the walls around them had been turned to flame. She heard a whoosh, followed by a crackling roar that could not have come from the tame campfire. She felt heat blazing against her skin and she closed her eyes on its fury.

“Brighid!” Cuchulainn was at her side, touching her face and smoothing back her still damp hair. “What is it?”

The centaur shook her head, blinking her eyes clear. “I’m-I’m just tired. I need to sleep.”

He led her back to the fire where he had arranged their blankets in a makeshift pallet. When she reclined, letting her legs collapse and fold under her, he handed her a hot slab of meat surrounded by thick slices of bread and cheese.

“Eat first. Then you can sleep.”

She nodded and automatically chewed the food, even though she felt strangely detached from the heat it spread throughout her body. She and Cuchulainn didn’t speak, but their eyes met often-his filled with worry-hers dark with exhaustion.

“Tomorrow,” she said when she’d finished eating. He glanced up from adding more wood to the fire, his look a question. “Tomorrow we must begin the quest for Epona’s Chalice.”

“Then it will be tomorrow. Tonight I want you to clear all thoughts of the Otherworld from your mind. Sleep, Brighid.” He knelt beside her and kissed her gently.

“I may not awaken till well past dawn,” she said, breathing in his scent and touch.

“It doesn’t matter when you wake. I will be here,” he murmured.

Brighid closed her eyes and surrendered her mind and body to the intoxication of sleep.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

If someone had asked Brighid if she’d wanted to dream that night, she would have answered with a resounding “no!” She just wanted to sleep-to give her body time to reenergize so that when she asked more of it later the deep wells of her power would be refilled and available to her once more.

No, she had no interest in dreams that night.

So when she felt herself being pulled from her body, she was more annoyed than alarmed or afraid. Irritated, she opened her eyes to find herself gazing down at her sleeping form. Cuchulainn was still awake and sat vigilantly beside her, staring somberly into the campfire. He looked tired. The lines in his face, that had softened after she’d retrieved his soul, were back. Automatically she reached out to him, but instead of touching him, she was lifted up and up, through the roof of the cave and into the night sky.

The Huntress gasped and swallowed down a terrible rush of dizziness. Oh, Goddess! What was happening to her?

Be at peace, my child. Do not fear.

Epona’s voice! Brighid’s heart hammered painfully in a chest that was clearly more spirit than body. She looked wildly around, but saw nothing more than the fully risen moon that was perfectly round and butter-colored in the clear night sky. As she hung there, trying to control her mixed feelings of awe and panic, she felt her spirit body begin to move. Slowly, at first, she floated north. Below her the Blue Tors were dark and silent. Then her speed increased and it seemed only an instant had passed. She was across the wide Calman River. McNamara Castle sped by her and the vineyards blurred beneath her. She wanted to slow, to control the terrible speed of her journey, but her spirit was in the Goddess’s hands-and Epona was quite obviously in a hurry.

The moon glistened off the black liquid expanse of the B’an Sea. Brighid focused her eyes on its vastness that stayed the same, no matter how quickly her spirit sped over it. It helped to quell the dizziness she couldn’t quite shake off, and it was only when her spirit slowed noticeably that she allowed her gaze to move from the water to the land. The Huntress sucked in a breath in surprise.

Below her MacCallan Castle was alight with life. Torches blazed from the battlements and the inside walls. Though it was late, the sentries were attentively pacing the newly reconstructed walkway. The sight of her adopted home was bittersweet. She loved seeing it again, but it also saddened her. It reminded her too well of how much she and Cuchulainn would rather be there than sleeping in a lonely cave at the edge of the Centaur Plains.

Fate has decreed otherwise, child.

The Goddess’s voice soothed her mind like a gentle caress and she felt her melancholy ease. Then the Huntress shook her head, ashamed of herself. Who was she to question fate and the Goddess’s will? Brenna had met her fate willingly. Niam had embraced hers honorably. Could Brighid do any less?

You may question, child, just as you may choose. I believe that you will choose wisely when the time comes.

Brighid bowed her head, humbled by the trust in the Goddess’s words.

Now observe so that you will have the knowledge you need when the time comes…

Her body dropped down at a speed that had her eyes blurring until she was jerked to a sudden halt. Blinking to clear her vision, she realized she was hovering near the ceiling of the Great Hall. Below her, sitting at their usual places at the Chieftain’s table were Elphame and Lochlan. The only other person in the room was the head cook, Wynne. She was standing in front of the table. Between them, on the tabletop, was a mound of freshly picked herbs. Elphame was absently feeling the broad green leaf of one of the plants that Brighid thought she recognized as basil.

When Ciara hurried into the Great Hall, everyone’s attention shifted from the herbs to her.

Her smile was open and curious as she approached the table and curtsied gracefully. “You sent for me?”

“Yes,” Elphame said. “I know it’s late, but Wynne only just told me about this. And I wanted to speak to you at once.”