Free Enchanted Moon (Moon Magick Book II) by Amber Scott Page A

the small home and tried the door.
“God’s teeth!” Of course, the narrow rear door would sit unlatched. But were
both women inside?
    And were they safe?
    “Ailyn?” he called, weaving through the happenstance
layout of the small rooms.
    A murmur came to his ears. He reached the hearth room
where—Maera, was it?—stirred, trying to sit up.
    The tightening in his gut shot up to his head. He
unlatched the front door to let Breanne in, whose color had returned,
brightening her cheeks to pink. She looked for all purposes that she’d just
entered her own home in time to sup.
    Maera scooted back, though, her eyes darting from
Quinlan to Breanne, wary.
    “You’ve no cause for alarm,” he said.
    Breanne approached her, palms open. “I’m a healer.
I’ve come to help. May I?”
    “Where’s Ailyn?” Quinlan asked, though deep down he
knew the answer.
    “Gone,” Maera said, nodding to Breanne, who knelt next
to her and began feeling her face, arms, and belly.
    “I canno’ believe she abandoned you,” Quinlan said,
more to himself than to Maera.
    “She did not abandon me.” Maera winced under Breanne’s
touch. “I bade her to go.”
    “Bade her?” Who was she to be sending her friend away?
The cliffs. The wolf. The storm could return.
    “Do you ken how distraught she was for your safety?”
    Guilt flashed over the woman’s face. She ignored
Quinlan, focusing on Breanne, who was glaring at him meaningfully. Aye, shut it, her eyes were telling him.
Shut it as she’d asked. He’d not known just how difficult a matter it would be
when he agreed, though.
    “You have every right to your doubts, Your Highness,”
Breanne said softly, hands steady above the woman’s belly.
    Your Highness? Rights to doubt? Oh, that was too much
for a man to keep his mouth shut over. But Breanne shot him another warning
glance as he opened his mouth. Fed up, Quinlan snapped it closed and strode out
the door. The morning light was piercing the storm clouds, sending the rain
away. Quinlan scrubbed a hand over his face.
    Where had Maera bade Ailyn to go? Why do such a fool
thing?
    Bah! He had no business caring about the lass or
questioning about the one inside with Breanne. He’d known both for mere hours.
    He’d been given a task and completed it. He should
focus on what to tell his king, and how many details to share. Some were
critical to relate to Niall O’Donnell. The cattle, the rite. Others might have
him laughed out of the túath . Not every man believed the old
ways now that Patrick’s Christ held many Irish hearts. He’d feel far better knowing
that the lass was safe, though. Mayhap he should search for signs of where
she’d gone. Mayhap, he should—
    He should mind his own affairs. Bringing Breanne here
completed his sense of duty. Should she need further help, he’d give it, but
Ailyn and her friend were hers to attend to now. He couldn’t stop himself from
scanning the tree line for her shadow, though, or from sending a prayer for the
firebrand’s safe passage to wherever her journey next took her.

 
    ~
    Ailyn’s hands shook. Fine , Maera had acquiesced after much argument. If you won’t leave , find the wolf.
    Color seeped through the sky as the sun’s bright rays
eased up the horizon. Droplets from the rain lit from within. Birds sang.
Critters scampered. Yet Ailyn heard no whisper of enchantment at all. It was
true, then. Man had no magick left. And the Fae had so little.
    How did one attract a wolf? Ailyn focused on each
step, careful of the slippery path where moss and mud could lead her to a sharp
fall straight onto her arse. Maera’s shoes fit a bit loose, but their fine
soles soothed her skin.
    Her mind swam. Find
the wolf. Her hand went to the place her bow usually hung, now absent.
    “And what is it, my liege, that I’m to do with a wolf
once I do find it? Stoop and introduce myself? Oh, aye, we forgot to ask that,
didn’t we, Ailyn?” she muttered, exasperated with Maera.
    Maera would not