Page 92 of Queen of the Shadow

Still holding in laughter, Scáthach lay down facing him. She studied his face as he slept. He looked so peaceful—so serene. Seeing him thus made her realize how tightly he held himself. She’d thought he was relaxed and easy around her, but this Cuchulainn, the sleeping man, looked almost like a different person. He was no longer godlike, sculpted from rigid stone, powerful and divine—the Hero of Ulster.

No. This man was mortal and sublimely touchable. There was a kindness to his sleeping face that was undeniable, and as Scáthach’s eyelids began to flutter, she made her decision. She knew what she would do with Sentanta. As sleep took her, the Queen of Shadow’s full lips tilted up in a smile.

* * *

“What happened!” Cuchulainn bolted awake, peering around and gathering himself as if for a fight—until his gaze found Scáthach. She squatted near the crackling fire, placing more strips of salted, smoked pork across the hot rocks.

She grinned at him. “What happened is you slept. All night and a good part of the morning. I was loath to wake you, but it was getting late and I was hungry, so...” She turned a piece of sizzling meat and shrugged.

He ran a hand through his hair and stared at her. “I fell asleep.”

“You did.”

His cheeks flushed. “While you were kissing me.”

She lifted her brow and her grin turned wry. “Actually, you fell asleep when I stopped kissing you.”

“You stopped kissing me?”

“My intent was to undress us and then continue with the kissing, but that’s when you...” She shrugged, made a loud snoring sound, and then laughed.

He wiped his hands down his blazing face. “That’s when I fell asleep.”

“Indeed!” Scáthach nodded at the meat and the bread and cheese warming on another rock. “Are you hungry?”

Cuchulainn sighed as he stood. “What I am is mortified. But I’ll wash before I eat.” As he walked past her toward the stream, he muttered, “Or maybe I’ll just drown myself.” Scáthach’s laughter drifted with him through their curtain of fog.

When he returned, his face and hair were wet. He sat cross-legged beside her. Scáthach handed him a thick slice of bread she’d piled with steaming meat and melty cheese.

“Thank you,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Scáthach spoke around a bite of cheese. “I’m glad you slept.”

“If the alternative was kissing you, I prefer the kissing to the sleeping,” he told her.

She swallowed, took a quick drink from the waterskin, and then leaned into him, kissing him softly. “There’s no reason you can’t do both.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she finished with, “Just not simultaneously.”

He almost choked on a bite of food. When he was finally able to speak, he said, “I shall keep that in mind.”

They finished breaking their fast, and the moment Scáthach extinguished the campfire, the fog blanketing them from the rest of the Autumnal Realm dissipated. Chance looked up from grazing and nickered before trotting to the chariot and placing himself in position before it.

“He’s smart,” said Cuchulainn as they put on his harness and reloaded the cart.

Scáthach stroked the stallion’s neck. “He is.” She rubbed his wide forehead. “I’m impressed by how much he’s matured.” Chance lipped her cheek, and she laughed as she climbed into the cart beside Cuchulainn.

They trotted back to the road and continued along it. The wan day was exactly as the day before. The sky was low. The breeze was chilly. There was little sound or movement around them.

“I keep expecting to see more of the dead,” said Cuchulainn.

“The first time I visited, I said the same thing to Mother. She reminded me that Annwn is an entire world in itself and is much larger than it seems. But the Autumnal Realm does appear more sparsely populated than it is because this particular part of Annwn exists only to help the dead be self-aware enough to transition to the Summerlands,” explained Scáthach.

“That does make sense. The dead here need the solitude.”

She nodded. “Yes. It’s different in the Summerlands.” Her voice quieted. “And in the Winterlands.”

He glanced from the road to her. “They aren’t solitary there?”

“Some are, but it’s no different in the Winterlands than in the mortal realm. People who choose hatred and darkness tend to attract those who are like-minded. I will admit that I have only been to the Winterlands once.” She shivered. “Mother did not want me to visit with her there again.”