Page 50 of Queen of the Shadow

Scáthach leaned against a barrel so that she faced Cuchulainn. “Your turn,” she said. “Tell me why you came to Dunscáith Castle to be trained.”

“You haven’t heard the story?”

She smiled wryly. “Only what the bard sings.”

Cuchulainn snorted. “So, no, you haven’t heard the real story.” He wove his fingers together and rested his hands on his lap. Except for the paleness of his face and the sheen of sweat that slicked his skin, he looked completely at ease—until they hit a bump. But he nodded and began. “Not long ago I realized that I should marry.”

Scáthach’s brows lifted. “And what made you realize that?”

He shrugged. “The men of Ulster asked it of me.” He lifted his brows then and waggled them as he grinned. “They wanted me married because of my great beauty, of course.”

Scáthach laughed. “Of course!”

Cuchulainn continued. “During my travels I met a young maid named Emer. She is the foster daughter of Forgall, the Dark King. Do you know of him?”

She nodded. “Only by name. I have heard he is sly—not one to trust.”

“You heard the truth. Sadly, I needed to get Forgall’s permission to be betrothed to Emer. He did not want to grant permission, and I can hardly blame him. When he looked at me, I know what he saw.”

“The Hero of Ulster?” Scáthach asked with a smile.

Cuchulainn snorted. “No. He saw a wild young warrior unworthy of Emer who would most likely die violently and too young. But Emer told him she would have no other but me, so Forgall said I must prove my worth by being accepted into the warrior training school of the great Queen of Shadow. And that is why I came to Dunscáith.” He finished by bowing his head to her.

“You must love her very much.” Scáthach’s face was an unreadable mask. “And she must love you as much in turn to have stood up to the Dark King for you.”

Cuchulainn shrugged. “Emer and I are of like minds. I need to marry. The Ulstermen wish it. The King of Ulster gifted me with property and a roundhouse. Though I am rarely there, it requires a wife to keep it in order.

“Emer is smart and compassionate and beautiful. She also wants very badly to be out from under the smothering fosterage of Forgall. What she desires most is to rule herself and her home, without the interference of an overbearing husband. So we made a deal. I cannot say we are in love, but I can say we respect one another and are pleased by this arrangement.” He grinned at her. “Not exactly what the bard sings, is it?”

“No, but then not much is exactly what the bard sings,” she said. “I can only imagine the ballad he’ll compose about all of this.” Scáthach gestured to take in Cuchulainn, the wagon, and the barrels of mead.

“I’d wager the number of enemy warriors will increase from twenty-five to...” He tapped his chin contemplatively. “One hundred and twenty-five.”

“Oh, at least,” Scáthach said. Their laughter mingled, causing the Shadow Guards that rode with them to smile in response.

* * *

Cuchulainn was dozing restlessly when they reached Dunscáith. He woke with a jolt when Scáthach touched his shoulder, clearly disorientated by pain and fever. The wagon stopped before the Bridge of Leaps and Scáthach stood, calling for a litter so Cuchulainn could be carried to the healer.

“If you help me, I can walk,” Cuchulainn insisted.

“You won’t make it up those stairs. Not unless byhelping,you mean you’ll let me carry you,” Scáthach said.

Cuchulainn scowled.

“Bring a litter!” Scáthach repeated.

As he was being transferred from the wagon to the litter, a rider galloped up. His horse was lathered, and his black clothes were stained with sweat and travel dirt, but still easily recognizable as Fearghas—one of the members of the Shadow Guard she’d commanded to search the island for any sign her sister had returned to Skye. “Queen of Shadow!” He dismounted and bowed to Scáthach. “I bring news of Aife!”

“Come to the Great Hall,” Scáthach commanded. “Tabiti, Uathach, join us.”

“I would ask to join you, too,” said Cuchulainn from the litter.

“You need to be tended to by the healer.” At his stricken expression Scáthach added, “I’ll check on you and give you the news then.” She paused and put her hand on his shoulder. “You fought well. You saved my life. Now you must rest, Sentanta. Rest and heal.” Then she hurried into the castle with her two senior warriors and the messenger.

Scáthach called for food and drink, though Fearghas only gulped the drink before he began his report. “Aife has taken Dùn Dòbhrain.”

Shock and anger heated Scáthach’s blood. Dùn Dòbhrain was a snug settlement just off the coast of the mainland that had been built on an islet where Loch Duich, Loch Long, and Loch Alsh converged on the way to the Inner Sound and the sea. It was a prosperous community, easily reached by ships. Scáthach traded there often and knew their lord, Kintail, well. He was a fair man who ruled his people wisely. “Are you certain the settlement has been taken?”