“Trade well, and blessings on you both.”
As they trotted down to the road, Breen did a mental review of basic horsemanship. Keegan would, she knew, sneer at any novice mistakes.
When they reached the road, Keegan shot her a glance. “We can make good time for now.”
So saying, he kicked his horse into a gallop. The big black stallion ate up the ground.
“Okay, Boy, let’s hope we both remember.”
She raced after him and found she did remember—and with the memory came the thrill of the speed, the power of the horse under her.
They’d never match the pace of Keegan’s Merlin, but it felt as if they flew down the stretch of road. The hair she hadn’t thought to tie back streamed behind her, and she found the cool whip of the wind on her face exhilarating.
A wagon drawn by a pair of horses clopped its way toward them. The man drove while the woman held a baby on her lap. The little boy in the back waved and shouted out greetings, first to Keegan—a good ten lengths ahead—then to her.
They neared the turn that led to the round tower, the stone circle, the ruins where the Pious had once prayed. And the graveyard where her father’s ashes lay under a garden she and Marg had brought to life.
But ahead of her, Keegan turned away, and rode toward the far curve of the bay.
There, she saw a mermaid sitting on a rock, her luminous jewel of a tail curled around her as she drew a comb through her long golden hair. In the water, blue now like the sky, young ones splashed, rising and diving, glittering tails whipping through the water.
The beauty and wonder had Breen slowing, and listening to the echo of young laughter.
The mermaid turned her head, and after a moment, lifted her hand in an easy wave.
Blessings on you, Daughter of the Fey.
Breen’s heart tripped as she heard the words in her mind. And her own formed a response.
And on you, Daughter of the Sea.
Full of the beauty and the wonder, she rode on to where Keegan had stopped to wait.
“Are they her children?”
“Two are, three are cousins. You can make their acquaintance another day. We’ve still far to go.”
“Boy would run his heart out, and it’s as big as Merlin’s. But he doesn’t have his stamina.”
“Right enough.” Keegan continued in an easy trot.
“I’ve only seen one mermaid before. A young girl. Ala. Bollocks likes to play with her.”
“If you bring him there, other young will come.”
“I’ll do that. When Marco feels confident enough riding, I want to take him to my father’s grave. He loved him, too. And he’d have a chance to see the Mers.”
“I saw him ride yesterday. He doesn’t lack for confidence. But when you take him, take a sword as well. The days grow shorter,” he said before she could speak. “He strikes for battle on Samhain, and we’ll be ready. But between now and then, spies and scouts slip through.”
“How will we be ready?” When he hesitated, she shifted. “How can I be so important to stopping Odran if I don’t know how we stop an attack I saw coming? Felt,” she corrected.
“Mahon and I flew south with some troops last night. He remains there for now with them. We have scouts and spies as well, and those who’ll watch and report on what this faction of the Pious plan.”
“If you’re massing troops, won’t they see, and catch on that we know?”
“They’ll see what we want them to see. Some fresh novitiates who wish for religious life, others who drink too much ale in the pubs or flirt along the shore, sail on the water, and so on.”
He shrugged as if speaking of war was just another conversation.
“My mother travels from the Capital, and some who come with her will veer south. We have barracks there, and this will appear as a troop exchange, but none will leave but to take to the woods or the caves or the fields, where they wait.”
“When will you go?”
“Mahon returns for Finian’s birthday. We fly south before sunset on Samhain. There’s a point,” he continued after a moment. “Tactics, you see. Crushing this attack swiftly, completely, taking as many of those who break the treaty or have turned on their own alive, and to the Capital for judgment, shows strength and resolve.”
“It won’t end it,” she murmured.
“It won’t end it, no, but it serves to demoralize Odran’s faithful, and to lift morale for the Fey.”
“You don’t want me there.”
“You have no place there. I don’t insult you. You’re not ready for such things, as well you know.”