“What kind of magical creature are you?” he asked, suspicion in his voice.
Without realizing it, my cries of pain had changed. I no longer growled like a bear. I now screamed like a woman. Without me willing it to happen, my skin shifted. I could not hold the shape of a bear, for the pain was too great. This was the problem with the Incantation of Change—it was an unpredictable and unreliable spell.
I became myself.
Vulnerable. Wounded. Unarmed.
I was now Eire, bloodstained, pale-skinned, faery ears and all.
Arrow pointed at my chest, the hunter did not flee, neither did he shoot.
Then came a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Perhaps the wind blew my hair aside, revealing my face or my ears. Perhaps it was the Royal Celtic tattoo on my right shoulder.
“Eire?” he asked incredulously. “Is it really you?” The archer fell to his knees before me, his bow on the ground. “Forgive me, I didn’t...I didn’t know you had woken up.”
His words stirred something inside me, a welcome memory, but my pain pushed that thought away.
Something about these wounds was far worse than any I’d received in any battle. My skin felt like it was on fire, like a hundred knives were stabbing my flesh, beginning at my shoulder and then moving throughout my body. I stumbled, my hands curled into fists.
“Drink this!” He pulled a vial that hung from a cord around his neck, broke the tiny flask open, and offered it to me. “My arrows carry poison. ‘Tis the only way to weaken the Leanan Sidhe when the blood hunger is upon them.”
I paused, the vial to my lips. My thoughts had grown so cloudy, I didn’t know if I should believe him. His head was down, Greagoir’s sword lay in the snow. If this was another one of Faelan’s tricks—
Then I saw the crest on his tunic.
A wreath of roses.
You will recognize your Guardians by the crest on their tunics—
My sister’s words, spoken so long ago.
This stranger was a friend, I could trust him—
“My leanaí—you must save them!” I gave one final command. “Faelan’s warriors are after them.”
Then I swallowed the bitter drink he had offered me, wincing when it burned my throat and then my stomach.
The hunter glanced around us, perhaps searching for more brown bears. “What shape are they?”
“White wolf cubs. My blessing upon you, hunter, if you save them.”
I collapsed on my hands and knees, right beside Greagoir’s sword and his still beating heart. The hunter paused only long enough to cover my nakedness with his thick cloak.
Then he sprinted off, his voice calling out.
“Find the white wolf cubs and spare them, men!” he said. “And kill every Leanan Sidhe bloodsucker that you see on the way. The forest is filled with them!”
Eleven
I caught my breath, then whispered a brief spell and felt the magic swirl through the snowy air until it settled upon me. The hunter’s poison rushed through my veins and I didn’t know how long the antidote would take, but I couldn’t wait. My vision blurred, my footsteps unsteady, I forced myself back to my feet, not caring that my only garment was a cloak. I grabbed Greagoir’s sword, then picked up his beating heart, and tucked it inside the cloak’s pocket.
I leaned on the sword, trying to regain my strength.
Had the hunter recognized me? Or was it dark sorcery that made it seem as if I had heard his voice before? I tried to remember what had happened only moments earlier during my battle with Greagoir, but my thoughts were muddled. I could only focus on one thing—
Two legions were prowling this wood, the Leanan Sidhe and my Guardians. Either one of them could kill my sons. My children could be struck down by accident, just like I had. Or they could be killed by design, because they had royal Tuatha de Danann blood in their veins.
Greagoir, my nemesis, still walked this forest.
I had to find my leanaí.
The hunter’s footprints led the way, through the trees, across a shallow river, and down a gully. I ran, following his trail, gulping cold mountain air as my bare feet sank into deep snow. The path twisted and turned, up a rocky hill, then across an old bridge, and back up to a razor-sharp crest.
And there they were—
Down in a narrow ravine.
My two white wolf cubs were trapped with no way of escape, three of Faelan’s servants surrounding them. I stood at the hunter’s side as he drew his bow and let the first arrow fly. I cried out, for the arrow sailed too close to my youngest boy, Ambros. Through the frozen air it flew, hissing, until it struck one of the Leanan Sidhe in the neck.
Blood sprayed out.
Red on white snow.
The other two monsters growled, but they didn’t pause. Rather, they became more fierce. One of them charged at my older son, Benen, with open jaws.
“Run!” I screamed. Then I began to sing.
Snow and frost and ice, obey my voice—
I conjured what I could, since my banshee voice wouldn’t work against these creatures. Not if they all had wax in their ears, like Greagoir. As my song echoed throughout the canyon, a fresh, thick layer of ice appeared everywhere, glistening on the rocks, and my two wolf cubs slid across it without falling. But the balance of the Leanan Sidhe demons was made precarious, their footing unstable; they stumbled and tripped as they chased my boys.
The hunter shot one more arrow.
I focused my attention on that flying missile, transforming it until it became as sharp and swift as a bolt of lightning. Thunder rocked throughout the small canyon when the arrow struck the second villain, square in the chest, straight through his heart.
The impact shook the ground and nearly knocked me off my feet.
The hunter glanced at me, obviously surprised at how my magic had affected the impact of his arrow. Then he gave me a quick nod as if to say, do it again, lass.
I grinned.
He let the third arrow fly.
The last Leanan Sidhe turned to run, his scream ringing out.
The arrow glowed as if it had turned into fire. As soon at it struck the villain, he burst into flames. Light filled the ravine, so bright it challenged the sun. Both the hunter and I shielded our eyes with our forearms, for the glare was blinding. By the time the beast struck the ground, there was nothing left of him but charred ash and bone.
The entire ravine had been blackened by the fire.
But none of it had touched my boys. Not a hair of their white fur was darkened by ash.
They both scampered up the ravine toward me, yelping and howling. I knelt to draw them into my arms and once the three of us were reunited, I buried my face in their thick fur.
“The fire!” one of them cried.
“It almost killed us!” the other whimpered.
“You shall never be harmed by my magic,” I reminded them. “Nor by an arrow shot by a friend.”
I glanced up at the hunter, who watched the three of us, a broad grin on his face. This was the true hero. This was the Duine who had rescued Ambros and Benen. I swallowed, my throat and chest thick with emotion.
“Thank you for what you did today. A blessing upon you and your house, stranger,” I said.