Killian and Blade, side by side, are a beautiful sight to behold--so beautiful that Emma sighs, her admiration clear in the soft sound. They are opposites in so many ways: Blade, tough, strong, and imposing; Killian, a massive shifter, yes, but nowhere as massive as Blade. He is regal in appearance, his confidence absolute. They take my breath away.

  Killian and Blade both stare at me, and Blade’s jaw drops. This is the only time they’ve seen me not in my pants and tunics. Time stands still like a broken grandfather clock.

  Emma cackles then clears her throat. “Git on with it then, or you’ll be late.” Her voice snaps us out of our thoughts. Killian offers me his arm, and I lay my palm gently on the crook.

  “Let’s get this shit over with. I have plans for later,” Killian says.

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to interfere with your plans, so let’s go.” The mood is no longer as serene as it was just moments before.

  His head jerks as Blade raps him upside it, as male friends do. “Asshole,” Blade mutters under his breath.

  The walk to the site is long, and I grow tired of Killian’s grouchy comments and muttered complaints. Blade, my ever-present protector, tries his best to talk over Killian’s snide comments. He, too, is dressed for the occasion. He has traded his battle clothes for a tunic and pants with the pack symbols embroidered throughout the sleeves. The shoulders are decorated with the pins of the gamma. His hair is untied, and wisps of it blow in the wind.

  It seems like we are walking forever when we reach the cove of the coastal inlet. A young girl with green eyes and long blond hair greets us. She is our escort and will start the ceremony. She has pale, freckled skin and wears a rose-colored gown that compliments her skin color. She drops to one knee as we step through the keyhole and onto the ceremonial grounds. A bouquet made of beach morning glories, wood asters, and violets rest in her arms.

  “For you, a gift to honor the Chosen.” She rises and hands me the bouquet.

  “Thank you.” I cradle the array of flora in my left arm. That simply, the ceremony begins.

  She moves behind me to straighten my gown, then takes position next to Blade.

  Killian looks at me. “You ready for this?”

  “I guess.”

  “Well, don’t let us force you; you can turn around and head back to Tiernan.”

  Blade growls deep in his throat. The ground shakes violently beneath our feet, and a small slide of rocks rolls down the hill to our left. Killian looks back at him.

  “What’s your problem, Blade?” he asks.

  “Never say that again. You go too far.”

  Unconcerned, Killian turns away. Blade’s anger still reverberates. It pleases me to know he is so protective of me that the mere mention of Tiernan causes a miniature rockslide.

  For the first time, I look at the thousands of shifters who stand in their finery. My heart thuds as the pink and orange rays of the setting sun glint off the warriors’ swords and armor. They look at me with hope, and I know deep in my heart what an honor it is to be here with the Dark Moon pack. I will do what they need me to do as Chosen.

  Killian escorts me down the path. The shifters bow or take a knee as we come upon them. We reach the end where Malachi, Lorcan, and the seer, Serenity, stand clothed in their finest beside the ceremonial altar. On the altar, the crown rests on a red felt pillow; its gemstones twinkle like hundreds of winking lights. Flowers and sea glass of every color surround it. I feel everyone’s eyes on me.

  The seer steps forward. “Dark Moon pack of Moonstone Island,” she says, raising her arms high. Cheers echo behind me.

  “Before you is the Chosen. The guardian of all children. The protector of the elders. The champion and keeper of The Faoladh, from which all of our pack and many more have descended.”

  The deep blue of the ocean on our right blends into the bright pink and red of the setting sun. Rays of blue light surround the altar. The glitter dust shines bright, and magic and excitement spark the air.

  She faces me, “This night, I ask as the sun sets, for all to see: will you accept your fate as Chosen and fulfill your destiny? By order of the goddesses, when you accept your fate, will you devote your life as the Ruler of Faoladh, to all our kind? Your rule to protect the sanctity of all?”

  I freeze. My heart stops beating, and my brain stops working. Killian elbows me.

  “Answer.” He rolls his eyes.

  “I will,” I say, and cheers explode from the crowd.

  “Will you take your rightful position in the Dark Moon pack and sit at the side of the alpha? Will you devote yourself to the wellbeing of the Dark Moon pack, your guardians, your protectors, who offer all that you need?”

  I needed no prompt this time. “I will.”

  The shifters scream and clap, and whistles pierce the air.

  Lorcan steps forward and clasps a bracelet on my wrist. The part human, part wolf symbol of the Faoladh is engraved on the band. The representation of a clan of shifters that causes no harm, lives in peace and kindness, and holds true the traditions of long ago. It sparkles in the light, beautiful in its simplicity.

  The seer steps forward and places a pin on my shoulder with the Dark Moon insignia engraved in its oval center: the full moon with clouds shadowing its beam of light. I look at the pin on my shoulder, and my heart fills.

  Malachi steps forward, the crown in his hands. Silence takes over the crowd. The only sound is the howling of the ocean and the song of the crashing waves. He places the crown on my head, the band sitting in an ornamental ‘v’ in the center of my forehead. The gems and symbols adorning the band shine bright. “Your fathers would be so proud of you,” he says. He kisses me on my left cheek, then my right, and steps away.

  The pulsing heartbeat of a drum sounds. At first, it is soft, and then it grows in speed and volume. A spiritual and physical contentment surrounds us all. The drum gets louder until I feel the pulse beneath my feet. My heartbeat matches the rhythmic tempo. Blue rays of light flash through the air like tiny bolts of lightning. The drums slow in tempo and volume until the sound disappears.

  Killian turns us to the crowd. Some females shed tears, the young hop around in excitement, and the males stand with reverence and admiration in their eyes.

  Killian escorts me back down the path. Flowers of various colors litter the path before us, their sweet scent perfuming the air. I feel in my heart that this is where I should be and what I am supposed to do. I hope with every part of me that my fathers are proud.

  Halfway down the path, there is a ‘thwish’ like the sound of an arrow string being released, followed by a ‘whoosh’ as an arrow flies, heading straight for me. I freeze in shock. Blade pushes me out of the way, and Killian knocks me to the ground and covers me with his body. Footsteps thud, screams echo around me, but I can see nothing.

  Killian jumps off me, and he and Blade shift. Their immense size and speed are captivating. They take off after a hooded man trying to escape through the narrow passages in the cliffs, their regalia in tattered piles at my feet.

  I sit there, shocked. The gentle hands of Lorcan lift me back on my feet. He dusts the dirt off my gown, then licks his finger and wipes a smudge on my cheek.

  “There, now--as beautiful as ever. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. What happened?”

  He picks up the arrow. I pale at how close it is to where I was on the ground. That arrow was meant for me.

  “This was meant for you. Come, let’s return to the mansion and await word from Blade.”

  Warriors surround Lorcan and me as he escorts me back to the mansion. My legs are like jelly, and my hands shake the entire way.

  He places me in the sitting room with Caleb on guard. It upsets me that there was an attempt on my life, and I worry about Blade and Killian. When the door opens, Willow and Warlock enter to lie at my feet, and I start to calm. As upset and as scared as I am, I am still safe. No harm would come to me here, they had said to me. Now, I believe it.

  Emma comes in and helps me tidy my hair and clothes, and the young girl who gave me the bouquet earlier comes in with tea and cakes. Emma asks her if she has heard anything.

  “Caleb told me before you arrived that Blade and Killian captured the hooded male and are questioning him in the cells. He said that Killian had to pull Blade off the male before he ripped his throat out. Killian said that they needed information, not blood. That’s all I know.”

  A shiver runs through me when I envision the wrath of Blade, but I can’t help but notice that when the girl said Caleb’s name, there was a twinkle in her eye and a soft smile gracing her lips.

  “What’s your name?” I ask her.

  “Brionough.” She curtsies. “You can call me Bria, and I am your female in waiting, your companion and assistant. I am pleased to have been chosen.”

  “It’s nice to officially meet you. There’s no need for you to sit in here as we wait for news,” I said, giving her leave.

  Emma and I sit and wait in silence. My knees jiggle, and I twist the bracelet on my wrist. My nerves are overwhelming me.

  Several hours of silence later, Blade, Killian, Lorcan, and Malachi enter. Caleb still stands guard at the door.

  “Did you get him?” I asked, standing up from my chair. I’m afraid that Tiernan or Eamon somehow found me.

  “We did,” Blade responds simply.

  “And?”

  “And what, princess?” Killian says. “Someone let an arrow loose at you. We caught him. That’s all you need to know.”

  “That is not all I need to know--and do not call me princess.” I stomped over to him. We glare at each other, toe-to-toe and nose-to=nose, nostrils flaring in anger. I have really had enough of his attitude. It was my life that was threatened, not his.

  Lorcan steps between us, and Malachi lectures Killian in a hushed voice.

  It is Blade who gives me an honest answer.

  “We caught him, and we questioned him. He said he was paid in food to take the shot at you. He is poor and has a family to feed, so he took the offer. He doesn’t know who it was who called the hit; it was arranged by note. He will remain our prisoner,” he says as casually as if he were discussing what he ate for dinner.

  “And his family?”

  “I will give his mate a position on the outside, enough to provide for the family,” Malachi answers. “The celebration continues as planned, but Blade and his warriors will check everyone for weapons. Lorcan and Killian will stay with you, now.”

  “Just how I wanted to spend the entire evening: babysitting the princess,” Killian says.

  On his way out the door, Blade calls him an asshole. Again.

  Lorcan merely tells Killian to shut up.

  Who the hell does he think he is? I’ll be damned if he is going to babysit me or call me a princess. I stand up tall and tilt my chin up to show my strength and a confidence I don’t fully feel. I address Killian with a voice pulled from the depths within me. I know that it’s now or never to let Killian know I am no longer taking his swiping and nasty comments.

  “I am not a princess, Killian. I am the Chosen, and you better start treating me with the respect the position deserves.”

  I whirl to the door, not giving him a chance to respond. My head still high, my anger apparent, I slam the door with the force of a gull wind. The crack of wood against wood echoes down the hallowed halls. Yes, he needed to be reminded, even if I’m not sure what all that exactly means.

  CHAPTER 12

  “I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.” -J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

  They escort me to the celebration. It is becoming a lively event. Food is plentiful, set as a buffet so that anyone that wishes can serve themselves. Beautiful arrangements of flowers that match my bouquet sit on tables and stands. Their sweet perfume mingles with the mouthwatering scents of the culinary delights. The musicians in the ballroom play lively music, and the shifters dance and frolic in fun. Younger males and females flirt and talk. Elders are grouped together with their mates close by.

  Killian’s duty requires him to dance with me. With great pleasure, I step on his toes, muttering a ‘whoops’ or a ‘sorry’ each time. He complains that I can’t dance and that I lack grace. I step on his toes harder.

  The entertainers in the courtyard are amusing, and happiness from everyone abounds. The threat from earlier today seems to be forgotten as everyone celebrates.

  The alpha checks on me regularly but has many things to attend to. Blade is on duty, so I am supposed to stay with Killian. I’d rather be left with a python, if I’m being honest. Thankfully, after our dance, he stays busy flirting shamelessly with a brown-haired female. Lorcan takes pity and sits down next to me. He’s so very kind and always a gentleman. He lacks Blade’s violent edge, as well as Killian’s attitude, and for that, I am thankful. It is easy for us to just be in the moment.

  After a few minutes, he asks me to dance. I can see the hesitation in his eyes as he looks at his own toes.

  “Of course,” I answer.

  Moments later, my hand is in his, his other hand is on my waist, and he chuckles in my ear. “You stepped on his toes on purpose. You dance beautifully.”

  “Maybe--or maybe not. Perhaps you are an exquisite partner.”

  He lifts his head back and laughs. We continue to dance, one dance after the other.

  As we dance, the hair on the back of my neck prickles, and I feel someone looking at me. Uneasy after what happened earlier, I scan the room to see Killian’s glare from across the ballroom. His lip is lifted in a snarl, anger in his eyes.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” Lorcan asks and brings my attention back to him.

  The questions startles me, and I look at him closely.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

  “We were together a lot before,” he says. “Our fathers were close, almost like brothers.”

  “I don’t remember much from when I was little.” I feel bad, but I don’t have many memories from before the cabin, and I have none of Lorcan.

  He nods sadly. “I understand. We were once good friends.”

  The dancing ends, and he escorts me to a chair, where we sit in silence for some time and watch the revelers. My eyes sweep across the room as I look for Blade until I find him talking to a group of warriors. Within seconds, his gaze settles on me. He smiles at me, and I smile back with a little wave.

  Lorcan clears his throat. I ask him a question that has been weighing on me.

  “Do you know where my father is?” I ask.

  He nods. “Your father and your foster father are placed in our sacred grounds, near to my own father.”

  I feel like I need to say goodbye--to both of them. “Will you take me? Now?” I ask, afraid that he will say no and that I won’t have the courage to ask again.

  Lorcan calls Blade over and whispers in his ear. Blade frowns but nods and hands him his own short dagger that sits at his lower back. Then Blade goes back to his post.

  Lorcan stands and checks his sword in its sheath, attaches the dagger, then holds his hand out to me. “Come, we will go now. It’s a bit of a walk.”

  While we walk to the burial grounds, he fills the silence with stories about our fathers and even my foster father. He makes me laugh at some of the things we got into when we were little. A pair we were, often getting into mischief.

  He remembers my mother. If I have few memories of my birth father, I have even fewer of her. I want to ask him what happened to her, but we arrive at the gravesite before I have the chance.

  Tall gothic fences surround the grounds. A large tree sits in the center with a stone bench underneath. We push through the gate, and suddenly, I am overwhelmed with sadness--not just mine, but of the many others who have passed through the gates.

  Lorcan leads me to my fathers’ headstones. Both are intricately carved, their names and the years of their births and deaths engraved into marble plaques. I run my fingertips on each of the plaques, tears filling my eyes.

  “I wish I could leave you to say what you need without me over your shoulder, but I cannot. I promised Blade I would not leave you for even a second. So, you’re stuck with me. I won’t intrude; take your time.”

  Feeling a fondness for this male with whom I once had a close friendship, I look at him closely. I wish I remembered. How conservative he is, his green-gold eyes always so intense. He never has a hair out of place. It must be something he has grown into, given the stories he told me of our times past.

  “There are worse males I could be stuck with--like Killian,” I say to ease his concern at not giving me proper privacy.

  He laughs, then steps a foot away--close enough to stand watch and get to me quickly, far enough to give me the privacy he thinks I should have.

  I say a prayer to the goddesses for my fathers. Silvery slivers of tears slide down my face in the moonlight as I stand there, lost in my memories.

  Lorcan comes over, wraps his arm around me, and pulls my face into his chest. He kisses the top of my head and offers words of condolence and sympathy. His kindness makes me cry harder. My shoulders wrack with uncontrollable sobs. He sits down on the ground, pulls me onto his lap, and lets me cry. My grief is overwhelming; I don’t know if I will ever stop crying. The tears keep flowing, and he keeps wiping them away.

  I don’t know how long we sit there on the cold ground surrounded by the spirits of loved ones lost. He says nothing and lets me cry until I have no tears left to shed. “I’m sorry,” I sniffle.

  “Amirah, you don’t need to apologize for grieving. Your loss has been huge. They forced you into isolation, sheltered out of necessity. You had a closeness with your foster father because he was all you had. Your birth father--his love for you was as fierce as any alpha’s. You may not remember, but your heart knows. You need to grieve so that you can heal.”

 

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