Page 81 of Queen of the Shadow

Scáthach glanced back at Cuchulainn where he sat splayed-legged and relaxed in the stern of the boat, tiller in hand. She’d been surprised that he was such a good sailor, though she shouldn’t have been. He’d grown up on Éire, which was an island. Of course he knew how to sail. The fact was Cuchulainn excelled at everything he did.

She studied him, considering what other talents of his she might discover on this journey. As if he felt her gaze, his eyes met hers and he grinned. The sun loved him, burnishing his skin with a tawny golden beauty that was undeniable. He’d stripped off his shirt and the muscular lines of his chest and arms were poetry.

“I prefer you like this,” Scáthach told him.

“Like this?”

“Yes. Like this—at ease. Like you were the day you swam at the Rubha Shlèite. Relaxed, happy, yourself.”

“Ha!” Cuchulainn’s grin widened. “You mean until your sea monsters showed up and tried to slice me to ribbons.”

“They didn’t eat you, so they must like you.” At his incredulous look, Scáthach’s laughter sang across the water. “Which reminds me. This pace is lovely, but it won’t get us to Hy-Brasil. That island must be caught rather than found.”

His brow furrowed. “How does one catch an island?”

“Well, some would say it’s a difficult thing to do—even impossible. And I would agree with them because they were not nursemaided by sea monsters.”

Cuchulainn sat straighter and watched with shining amber eyes as she drew her dagger and cut a thin line of scarlet across her forearm. Then, smiling at Cuchulainn, she let her arm hang over the side of the boat, trailing blood in the water.

They were far enough out at sea that the response was almost immediate. Like enormous silver puppies, the sturgeons swarmed around the boat, vying for her attention. Scáthach laughed as she carefully leaned so that her fingertips trailed across their spiny backs and sides. There were so many, they butted against the boat, rocking it from side to side.

Cuchulainn cleared his throat. “Ahem, Queen of Shadow?”

“Yes?” She stroked the back of another sturgeon and grinned at him.

“It will be unfortunate if they capsize us.”

“They will do no such thing,” she cooed to the huge fish. “They’re far too clever to do that.” Two more sturgeons bumped against the boat, causing the opposite side to dip precariously close to the water.

“Then what are they doing?” His eyes flicked nervously from the fish to Scáthach.

“They are simply waiting”—she paused and directed the rest of the sentence to the sturgeons—“impatientlyfor me to tell them where we’re going.” Scáthach leaned farther over the side of the boat. Cuchulainn hastily shifted his weight to compensate. Then she continued to speak to the school of giant fish. “Friends! Thank you for answering my call. I need your help. As Mother and I have so many times before, Cuchulainn and I travel to Hy-Brasil. You know our Béfionn is busy in Valhalla.” She had to wait for the sturgeons to stop splashing and diving and leaping at the mention of her mother’s name. When they’d calmed enough, Scáthach continued. “So I would ask that you take us to Hy-Brasil, and it would be especially lovely if we arrived there before sunset.”

There was quite a bit more splashing and diving and leaping before the sturgeons settled into their job, but when they finally did, they appeared to attack the boat, ramming it with their long, lean bodies until the wooden hull was caught by rows of the boney scutes that ran down their backs and sides. It was like being hooked to a hurricane. The ancient nursemaids carried the little boat forward at such a dizzying speed that Scáthach had to help Cuchulainn lower the sail before the wind tore it to shreds.

The ride was exhilarating. The speed and the wind reminded Scáthach a little of rappelling down a sheer cliffside and she threw back her head and laughed, reveling in the freedom of it. Cuchulainn joined her and she thought she’d always remember the happiness that suffused his face and how he cheered on the sturgeons, laughing harder as the saltwater sprayed him, slicking his sun-kissed body.

“Scáthach! Look!” Cuchulainn stood and pointed.

She looked in time to see a huge humpback whale breach just off their starboard side. She cheered with Cuchulainn as the whale breached several times, putting on a show for them. When the humpback finally swam away, Scáthach shouted after her, “Thank you, grandmother whale!”

As the boat shot through the water, powered by the strength of Béfionn’s familiars, Scáthach unpacked cheese and bread and dried meat to share with Cuchulainn. She found three waterskins—two held fresh water and one, she was delighted to discover, was filled with honey heather mead. She tossed it to Cuchulainn, who took a sip, grinned, and then upended it.

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Well, that was almost as surprising as sturgeons powering our boat and whales entertaining us.”

“My Little Fry thinks of everything,” said Scáthach after she, too, drank deeply.

“It’s nice that you two are so close.” Cuchulainn spoke around a bite of cheese.

“My daughter is my greatest joy,” said Scáthach.

“I wonder if Aife will feel that way about our son?”

Scáthach noticed he pressed his lips together after he spoke, as if he hadn’t meant to allow the words to escape.

“I cannot say. What I can tell you is becoming a mother usually changes a woman. You can hope it changes Aife for the better.” She hesitated and then added, “You could go to Lethra and see for yourself.”

“No. I cannot forgive her for what she did, for how she used me.” He shook his head and repeated, “No. Perhaps a better man could. I want to be a better man for my son. Had he been conceived differently...” He stared out at the blue horizon. “I’m afraid my resentment for Aife would taint the babe.” His gaze went to Scáthach. “I want a relationship with him like you have with Uathach, and like your mother has with you. I do not want to be like my father.”