Brighid's Quest. P.C. Cast
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Название: Brighid's Quest
Автор: P.C. Cast
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Приключения: прочее
isbn: 9781408921487
isbn:
The warrior nodded.
“In the waking world we are no longer at MacCallan Castle,” she said slowly.
Cuchulainn sat up straight and took the sweetgrass from between his teeth. “But that’s not possible. Just this evening we worked together to clean out the Chieftain’s quarters as a surprise for El.” His smile faltered only a little. “We can’t be traveling. We’re busy working.”
“Who?” she asked quietly. “Who is busy working on El’s chamber, Cuchulainn?”
“Have you been overimbibing my sister’s stash of red wine, Brighid?” he asked with humor that was obviously forced. “It’s mostly been the three of us—you, Brenna and me.”
Brighid drew a deep breath. “Cu, what you’re remembering…it happened in the past…more than two full cycles of the moon since—”
“No!” With a sharp, jerky movement the warrior stood. “No…” He backed away from her.
“Cu, wait!” Brighid reached toward him, but all she touched was the darkness of her tent as her eyes opened to the fading night.
That was when her headache began. The cold drizzle of the morning had done nothing to dispel it. Brighid had tried to catch Ciara’s eye and pull her aside. She needed to talk to the Shaman about her dream. But the Shaman had been kept busy herding the waterlogged goats.
“You’re setting a fast pace for such a miserable day.”
Cuchulainn’s gruff voice jolted through her thoughts. She looked around and felt a little like she was waking from another dream.
“Sorry,” she said shortly. “I hadn’t realized I’d pulled away from the rest of them.”
A grunt was his only reply. She expected him to turn and ride away, but as Brighid slowed her pace Cu’s gelding stayed beside her. His hair was damp and too damned long. He looked like one of the semiwild goats Ciara had spent the morning wrestling.
“You need a haircut,” she said.
His eyes widened in surprise before they narrowed into the flat, cynical expression that had overtaken his face in the past months. “I do not care about my hair.”
Huh, Brighid’s mind whirred. He was visibly shaken by a normal, personal comment. And something suddenly made sense to her. Everyone had been tiptoeing around Cuchulainn since Brenna’s death, treating him like he was a delicate egg that needed to be sheltered. Even the hybrids were careful with him—not expecting him to stay for dinner and most of the storytelling—allowing him to escape to his tent so he could brood alone. No wonder the joyous part of him had retreated. If she had a choice, she wouldn’t want to spend time with the black cloud that had become Cuchulainn, either.
“Obviously. Your hair looks awful,” she snapped. “You also need a shave and a change of—” she gestured at the stained kilt that was barely visible beneath the goat’s pelt he’d thrown over his shoulders “—whatever it is you claim to be wearing.”
“The more delicate aspects of a gentleman’s toilette have not been foremost on my mind these past cycles of the moon.” His voice was thick with sarcasm.
“Perhaps you’d like to reconsider that Goddess-be-damned attitude, boy.” The Huntress purposefully drew out the word. Granted, she was probably only a year or two older, but she drew her seniority around her like a rich cloak and sent the warrior a haughty look. “By this time tomorrow we’ll be entering Guardian Pass. The children, as admittedly annoying as they are, deserve our help greeting Partholon. Our
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