Elphame's Choice (Partholon #4)

Elphame's Choice (Partholon #4) Page 25

Elphame stretched gingerly and rolled her sore shoulder, careful not to let her expression reveal even the least little discomfort. She was seated on the newly dug ground between two rows of what would eventually be heartily growing mint plants - at least that's what Wynne had assured her. Elphame didn't know much about herbs or gardening, so the old garden that was situated behind the kitchen looked more like a confusing array of upended plants and haphazardly raised piles of soil to her than a plot of herbs meticulously being restored, but Wynne's militant assistant cooks seemed to know what they were doing as they selectively weeded and transplanted and chattered about this and that herb.

Truthfully, Elphame would have rather been scrubbing the stone walls of the Great Hall, but Brenna had put an end to that before she'd even had time to settle into the work. Elphame scowled as she patted the dirt around the little mint plant. The Healer had refused to agree to allow El to do anything more strenuous than to sit comfortably and quietly and transplant baby mint plants.

Elphame sighed. She really shouldn't complain, at least she'd escaped the confinement of that awful chaise longue. The day was warm and clear, with just enough of a breeze to bring the scent of blooming flowers and the sea within the castle walls. The sun felt wonderful on her face and the busy sounds of her clan surrounded her with a feeling of peace. And, she admitted to herself, she was finding that she liked getting her hands in the rich MacCallan earth. She stretched again, and rolled her head, loosening the stiffness of her neck. Looking up, she watched the men who were hard at work repairing the ruin of the warriors' barracks, the entrance to which was located near the rear of the kitchen. Elphame thought the placement made perfect sense. Warriors, it seemed, were always hungry. At least Cuchulainn was always hungry.

A familiar kilted figure joined the workers, calling orders and checking the roofers' progress. El watched him closely. Cu's voice was definitely grumpier than usual. She stifled a smile. But Cuchulainn was no fool, and she knew how stubborn he could be when he truly desired something. Brenna had no idea the scope of the battle that was getting ready to be launched against her defenses. Elphame hoped fervently that Cu's campaign - whatever it was - would work. The two of them fit well together. She wondered briefly if she should bring her mother into the fray. Etain would make a formidable ally when she realized that her precious son's heart had been lost, and the glimmer of future grandchildren sparkled before her.

No, Elphame quickly decided against calling in her mother. Let Cuchulainn work at winning Brenna. The MacCallan hadn't been sure if the Healer could learn to trust enough to love, but Elphame had more faith in her friend - and in her brother's ability to woo and win a lover.

Absently, El chose another small plant and began to prepare a place for it next to the other sprig of mint.

What about the question of her own lover? A little shiver of delight ran though Elphame as she remembered the way he had responded to her touch. His wings...

"You look flushed. Perhaps it's time you rested."

Elphame jumped guiltily. She looked up, shielding her eyes against the sun, silhouetting Brenna and Brighid.

"I'm not flushed. I feel fine." She stood with what she hoped was enough lithe grace to satisfy her Healer friend.

"She looks well-rested to me," Brighid said.

Elphame could have kissed the Huntress.

Brenna narrowed her eyes. "You're not - "

"No!" Elphame interrupted her friend. "I am not overdoing. I'm just planting these baby things."

"You're transplanting mint sprigs. They're not bairns," Wynne said cheerfully as she swung into the garden. The cook inspected the little row Elphame had completed. "And ye are doin' a fine job of it."

Elphame grinned. "See, I'm fine."

Brenna's face relaxed only a little. "Well, see that you go slowly. And if your shoulder begins to ache, do not push it." She smiled begrudgingly at her overactive patient. She would have to keep a close watch on Elphame. Her friend was healing well, but she pushed herself too hard. She was too used to depending upon the extraordinary abilities of her body. Elphame didn't seem to understand that even her strength had its limits.

Brenna snuck a quick look at Wynne as she discussed the castle's meals with Elphame and Brighid. The cook was voluptuous and beautiful. It was not possible that Cuchulainn did not desire Wynne. Just as it was not possible that the warrior truly desired Brenna. As the day had passed her anger at him had cooled to a simmer, and she had been left with a confused irritation. Why had he insisted that he wanted her? She chewed her lip, remembering her harsh words to him. She didn't really think that he was selfish and cruel - she'd just been completely unbalanced by his declaration. And his touch. And his nearness.

"Good afternoon, ladies." Cuchulainn's deep voice sounded forcefully cheerful. All day he'd been restless and irritable, and he'd known he was doing more harm than good as he snapped at the roofers.

Impulsively, he'd decided to find his sister. She was a maiden. Surely she'd know something he could say to Brenna to repair the damage he had unwittingly done. One of the women had told him that Elphame was in the kitchen garden, and he'd hurried there with a single-minded sense of purpose that had blocked out everything else. Until he'd entered the little garden and caught sight of Brenna. He spoke offhandedly to the women, who waved warmly to him as he strode toward his sister -  and Brenna.

Cuchulainn set his shoulders. He wouldn't get a chance to talk to his sister alone and ask her advice first.

He would just have to follow his heart - or his gut - or both.

Elphame grinned at him, pulling his attention from the silent Healer. "I'll bet you had no idea that I could garden, Cu."

He couldn't help smiling back at her, and he wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek. "You can't."

"Ye may be in for a surprise, warrior," Wynne purred. "Our Chieftain has many hidden talents."

Cuchulainn hardly spared the beautiful cook a glance. Instead his eyes sought and found Brenna's. His smile was slow and seductive, and its warmth lit his face.

"You could be right, Wynne. There are many things about our Chieftain - and about others - that I have been surprised to learn. And I'm finding that I would like to learn more, too."

Brenna gaped at the warrior. He was looking at her like that, right there in front of all of them!

Cuchulainn's message was clear. He was telling every one of them that he was interested. In her. She stood there, frozen, not sure if she wished she could disappear or if she wished he would keep on looking like that at her -  and really mean it.

He kept on looking like that at her.

"Uh, Cu - is there something you needed?" Elphame said.

Cuchulainn's turquoise eyes never left Brenna's. "There is something I need, but I believe I have found it, sister-mine."

Brenna's breath left her body is a surprised rush and she felt the left side of her face flame.

"If you will excuse me, Elphame, there are things I must...I have to..." She wrenched her eyes from Cuchulainn's hot gaze and reordered her thoughts. "I have to go," she finished in a rush, curtsied to Elphame, and hurried from the garden.

"So that's how 'tis?" Wynne asked softly.

Still looking after Brenna, Cuchulainn nodded his head slowly. "That is how it is."

Wynne gave the warrior an appraising look, tossed back her red mane, and sauntered from the garden.

"That might not have been the smartest thing you could have done, Cu," Elphame said, wiping her hands on her thighs. "You know how shy Brenna is. I think you might have scared her more than seduced her."

"I want her to know I'm serious."

Brighid snorted.

"What do you have to say about it?" Cu rounded on her.

The Huntress shrugged her shapely shoulders. "Nothing except that you're like a bull in rutting season.

Next thing you'll do is piss on the ground around her to mark your territory."

Elphame watched her brother begin to swell and she hastily stepped between the two of them. "That's enough. Take it outside the castle walls."

The Huntress and the warrior blinked blankly at their Chieftain. She shook her head in disgust at them.

"Go hunting. Both of you. Brighid, try not to antagonize my brother every second. Cuchulainn, you need to work off some of your - " she gestured at the rigid set of his shoulders " - tension. It's certainly not helping you with Brenna."

The Huntress snorted again.

Elphame raised one eyebrow at her and crossed her arms.

Brighid sighed and glanced begrudgingly at Cuchulainn. "Come on, warrior. Let's see if you can bring down a stag."

Cuchulainn frowned at the Huntress. He had no intention of leaving the castle. He should go after Brenna right then and -

"Thank you, Brighid, that sounds like a lovely idea. I'm glad you thought of it." Elphame gave both of their shoulders a shove toward the garden's exit. "Wynne was just saying that she could never have enough venison. I'll see the two of you at dinner." She neatly ignored the dark look her brother sent her as he followed the Huntress from the courtyard.

With a sigh she resumed her seat in the middle of the mint plants, contemplating the benefits of bashing Cuchulainn over the head so that Brenna would be forced to treat him.

"He'd probably be a worse patient than me, and she'd end up poisoning his tea - not that anyone would blame her," she muttered.

Cuchulainn had to admit it; Elphame's idea had been a good one. He'd needed to get away from the castle and clear his head. His aim was certainly off - he'd be surprised if he could have hit the side of MacCallan's thick outer wall, but his muscles were warm and his tension had dissipated. He also had to admit that Brighid was a damned fine Huntress. He'd spent years at his father's side, so the grace and strength of a centaur was nothing new to him, but Brighid moved with a stealth that was almost preternatural.

"Through there." Her voice was hushed and he followed her gaze to the little stream that ran through the meadow. The stag was just dipping his head to drink.

Cu nodded and dropped silently from his gelding. Notching an arrow he crept forward to get a clear shot. A half-fallen tree was in the way, and he moved slowly around its splintered trunk. The breeze stirred and he froze, even though it was blowing away from the deer. An odor came to him then and Cuchulainn unconsciously curled his lip at the fetid smell. Death and rot -  close by. He stepped over the edge of the downed limb, and with a sick, squinching sound he put his booted foot down squarely in the middle of the decomposing corpse.

Before he could stop himself, Cu jerked his body back. Nostrils flaring, the stag lunged away.

"Cuchulainn, what - " Brighid began, but her look of irritation changed to surprise as she joined him on the other side of the tree.

"Dead wolf," he said, wiping his boot on the mossy ground. "Sorry about scaring away the stag. It was just - " he grimaced at the corpse " - unexpected. Especially looking like that."

Brighid was studying the body thoughtfully. "Impaled," she said.

"Strange, isn't it? He must have run right into that splintered limb."

"She," Brighid corrected him.

He cocked a brow at her.

"The wolf is a female." The Huntress pointed to the underside of the bloating body. "And she had cubs.

Look at her teats."

Cuchulainn was intrigued enough to ignore the smell and step closer to the dead wolf.

"I've seen this type of death only a few times, and always in lone females who have recently whelped.

They're desperate for food. I can only imagine the frenzy that drives them to run after their prey with such blinding intensity that they lose all sense of everything else around them. She probably leaped over the log and at the speed she was traveling the limb shard was driven into her like a spear."

Cuchulainn crouched down. The wolf had impaled herself through her chest. He shook his head.

"But why was she hunting alone? Wolves live in packs."

"Most do, but look at her size. She's clearly a runt. She should have never been bred. My guess is that the alpha female drove her from the pack. She wouldn't have liked to share the alpha male, and the pack rarely lets substandard members breed." The Huntress peered down at the wolf, reading the history her corpse still told. "Look at her body, especially around her head and neck. She's badly scarred -

probably was supposed to die. It's amazing she recovered and lived as long as she did."

Badly scarred...supposed to die...Cuchulainn's jaw tightened. Abruptly he stood and faced the Huntress.

"How long would you say she's been dead?"

Brighid shrugged. "Maybe two days."

"Not too long," he muttered as if thinking aloud.

"Too long for what?"

"Some of them might still be alive. Let's find them." Cuchulainn strode back to his gelding.

"Cuchulainn, what in the name of the Goddess are you talking about?"

He swung aboard the horse. "Prove to me you're as great a Huntress as I think you are."

Surprised, she raised her chin. "And how do you suggest I do that?"

He smiled grimly at her. "I want you to find her cubs."