Elphame's Choice

Chapter 2

“Cu, remind me why I agreed to let you come with me.” Elphame looked slantways at her brother and tried to increase her gait without being too obvious. He was singing what seemed like verse five hundred of a semi-raunchy military marching song and the never-ending chorus pounded through her right temple in time with her headache, almost making her wish she had not insisted that the two of them travel separate from the rest of their party.

The big buckskin gelding on which Cuchulainn rode automatically picked up his pace to match El’s long strides. Her brother’s infectious laugh rang around them. “I came, sister-mine, to protect you.”

Elphame gave an unlady-like snort. “Oh, please, spare me. Protect me? It’s more likely you needed a break from chasing the temple maidens hither and yon.”

“Hither and yon?” His handsome face broke into a boyish grin. “Did you really say hither and yon?” He shook his head in mock seriousness. “I knew you were spending too much time reading those tomes in mother’s library. And it’s not the maidens I’d be after.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at his sister.

Elphame tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile as she gave him a fond look. “Next you’ll be reminding me that you don’t have to chase any woman anywhere.”

“Now that, sister-mine, is the simple truth…” He let the words trail off and grinned at her.

“Hmm, I thought you might be staying at home to welcome the…” Elphame cleared her throat and tossed back her hair, doing a perfect imitation of their mother’s tone of voice as well as her body language. “…lovely and unmarried daughter of the Chieftain of Woulff Castle who will be sojourning at Epona’s Temple on the way to begin her training at the Temple of the Muse.”

Cuchulainn’s mouth tightened, and for an instant Elphame regretted her teasing. Then, with his usual good humor he shrugged his shoulders and gave her a long-suffering grin.

“Her name is Beatrice, sister-mine. Can you image anyone named Beatrice not having a high forehead and regal carriage?” He spoke the words putting a simper in his deep voice, which made Elphame laugh out loud.

“She’s probably a very handsome woman,” El said through giggles.

“No doubt fertile, with ample hips and the ability to bear many children.”

Brother and sister exchanged looks of complete understanding.

“I’ll be glad when Arianrhod and Finegas are old enough for Mama to start matchmaking for them.” El said in a tone that sounded more serious than she had intended.

Cuchulainn sighed heavily. “The twins will be eighteen this summer. In three more years Mother will be in her matchmaking glory.”

El slanted a look at Cu. “Poor kids. It almost makes me wish we hadn’t picked on them so much when we were children.”

“Almost!” Cuchulainn laughed. “At least we’re all in this together—it’s not like Mother singles out one of us.”

Elphame just smiled at him and quickened the pace again, forcing herself temporarily ahead of her brother on the narrowing trail. But it’s not the same for me. Thoughts whirred incessantly through her restless mind. Her siblings were humans—attractive, talented, sought-after humans. She didn’t need to glance over her shoulder to picture Cuchulainn. His face was as familiar to her as her own—and very like her own. She smiled wryly. Cu was just a year and a half younger, and from the waist up they, too, could be twins. He had her high, well-defined cheekbones, but where hers were delicate and feminine, his were ruggedly masculine. Her chin was (according to their mother) rather defiant, and his was stubborn and proud (according to his eldest sister), complete with an adorable cleft. Instead of his sister’s sable eyes and dark auburn tresses, he had eyes that were a unique color shaded somewhere between blue and green, and thick, sandycolored hair that refused to give up its childish cowlicks. So he kept it slicked back and cropped short, which made their mother cluck and complain over the waste of not letting it grow like a proper warrior’s.

But Cuchulainn, son of Midhir, High Shaman and Centaur Warrior Lord, did not have to be a “proper warrior.” Named after one of Partholon’s ancient heroes, he already looked and acted the part, whether he always behaved properly or not. Tall and well-formed, he excelled at tournaments, was the finest human swordsman in Partholon and had never been bested in archery. Elphame had heard more than one young maiden sigh longingly and say that he must indeed be Cuchulainn reincarnated.

No, Cu had never lacked for female companionship. He had just not yet found his lifemate. Elphame’s shapely lips tilted up. “But not for lack of trying,” she muttered to herself.

That was one way she was very unlike her brother. He was suave and experienced with the opposite sex. She had never been kissed.

Even her youngest siblings, whom she and Cu had nicknamed the Little Scholars, had no trouble finding partners for moon rituals. While Arianrhod and Finegas weren’t as athletic as their older brother and sister, they were certainly growing into intelligent, poised young adults. Looking almost like mirror images of each other, their tall, graceful bodies were completely human—totally normal. And, Elphame admitted to herself, Arianrhod was as pretty as Fin was handsome.

The path that cut through the ancient forest curved to the right and widened. Cuchulainn urged his gelding to his sister’s side.

“She reminds me of Mama,” El said suddenly.

Cu looked around in surprise. “Who?”

El rolled her eyes. She always expected her brother to read her mind, and was annoyed the few times he didn’t. “Arianrhod, who else? That’s why the boys already moon over her. Of course it’s not like she cares or even notices—not unless she’s completely changed during her first term at the Temple of the Muse.”

Her brother’s turquoise eyes crinkled with his smile. “Arianrhod’s head will always be in the clouds.”

“Astronomy and astrology are inexorably linked to the Fates, and as such it is wise to study them carefully.” El mimicked their younger sister.

Cu laughed. “That’s one of our Little Scholars, all right. The irony is that young, besotted men will chase her all the harder because of her indifference. You see the maidens are already starting to follow Fin around, and his beard is still like duck’s down.”

“Well, for whatever reason they certainly like her a lot.”

Cuchulainn looked closely at his sister. “Are you all right?”

“Of course,” she answered automatically without meeting his eyes.

“It will be different here, Fawn,” he said quietly.

“I know.” She glanced quickly over at him, and then just as quickly looked away, afraid that he would see the tears that were beginning to make her eyes too bright.

“No, I mean it.” His serious tone caused her to slow her stride so she could listen more carefully. “You will find what you have always desired at MacCallan Castle. I have had a Feeling.”

Her brother’s words hung in the fragrant spring air. She knew exactly what he meant. It was a part of the code between them. Just as she was her Goddess Incarnate mother’s firstborn daughter, and therefore had been marked by Epona, Cuchulainn was truly the firstborn son of their shaman father. From an early age he had simply known things. When he was a child he had explained it to his sister by saying it was like he could hear words that were hidden in the wind. Sometimes this “wind” told him where lost items could be found. Sometimes it told him when someone was coming to visit the temple. And sometimes it foretold portentous news, like the untimely death of a beloved child or the breaking of a blood-given oath.

The preternatural knowledge had frightened the young Cuchulainn. It wasn’t an enemy he could best with the prowess of his muscles or outwit through his cunning. It was something that made him feel like an aberration; it gave him power he hadn’t asked for and didn’t have any desire to wield.

It was a thing his older sister understood all too well.

So he had come to Elphame whenever he’d had a Feeling about something or someone. And his sister had empathized with his fear. She had not turned from him—instead she had become his closest confidante, even though Elphame’s attitude toward things of the spirit realm was decidedly different than his. She was, after all, a physical manifestation of the magic of the Goddess. She didn’t understand why her brother would reject gifts from the spirit realm, especially when she longed to feel even a whisper of the power her mother wielded so easily, but she supported his desire to do so with a calm, no-nonsense attitude. As he grew older, Cuchulainn had learned to repress his burgeoning psychic abilities and not allow them to overwhelm him.

Now Elphame looked searchingly at her brother. He’d never lied to her before. And his Feeling had never been wrong.

“Do you promise?” she asked a little breathlessly, the sudden flush that suffused her cheeks the only outward sign that betrayed her inner excitement.

“Yes.” He nodded tightly.

Joy surged through Elphame. “I knew restoring MacCallan Castle was the right thing to do!” Then she gave him a sisterly glare, thinking of all the cajoling it had taken to get their mother to agree to let her go. “You couldn’t have shared this knowledge with Mama?”

“If I had told Mother that I knew you would meet your destiny at MacCallan Castle do you think there would have been any force on Partholon that could have kept her from accompanying us there?”

“Excellent point,” Elphame agreed quickly. Then her thoughts navigated through her rush of emotions and she asked, “But why did you wait to tell me?”

Cuchulainn’s forehead furrowed in thought and he answered her slowly. “The Feeling is indistinct.” Then, seeing his sister’s face fall in disappointment he hurried on to try and explain. “No, it doesn’t make it any less certain. I know you’ll meet your destiny at MacCallan Castle. I know that destiny is tied up in your lifemate, but when I try to focus on details about the man I get only fog and confusion.” He shook his head and smiled sheepishly at Elphame. “Maybe that’s because you’re my sister and knowing details about your love life is actually pretty disturbing.”

“I know exactly what you mean. When the maidens wax poetic about your various body parts—” she shuddered and made a face “—I cover my ears and run screaming in the opposite direction.”

“Hrumph.” He huffed at her succinctly, chuckling in spite of himself, glad his sister had stopped asking specific questions about the Feeling.

He had struggled with what to say to El about his vision. He knew it caused his beloved sister pain to believe that she would never find a mate, and he knew that he had to tell her about his Feeling. It was clear to him that she would meet her lifemate and her destiny at MacCallan Castle, but he also knew there was more to it than simply falling in love. A part of his premonition had been vague and ominous. It had been nothing like the typical “love” visions he had received in the past, which were usually glimpses of a friend in a young woman’s arms, followed by a Feeling that the two people belonged together.

He had experienced a vision of his sister in a man’s arms, but he had been unable to see the man. Maybe that was because the first thing he had been able to see clearly was the look of tender happiness that radiated from his sister’s usually serious face, and that particular vision had been so surprising that his concentration had been irreparably fractured. Maybe not. And, yes, there had been a definite Feeling that the two were meant to be together. When he tried to refocus the scene and study the man, the vision had been bathed in a blinding scarlet light, as if the scene had been dipped in blood. Then, just as quickly, it had been covered in darkness, like the lovers had been wrapped in a velvet curtain, and the man had faded away, leaving his sister alone.

How very like the realm of spirits, to leave him with unanswered questions and a sense of unease. He had always loathed the elusive, slippery nature of the power. It wasn’t like the sure weight of a sword, or the clear aim of an arrow.

Cuchulainn swallowed past a suddenly dry throat, glad Elphame had, once again, pulled ahead of him. She read his expressions too easily. He didn’t want her to see that his latest vision had reached into his soul and truly frightened him with its strange, red-tinged whisperings. He flexed his right hand. He could feel the phantom weight of his claymore as in his mind he gripped it and held it at the ready.

Yes. Lifemate or not, Cuchulainn was prepared to protect his sister from all who might cause her harm.

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