«To Clynabroga.»

She lost her footing, and when he took her arm to steady her, he felt an odd sensation rush through his hand and up his arm. He released her abruptly. No doubt ’twas merely due to his nerves over Teague. «Ach, woman. Clynabroga is a fair day’s walk.» He looked at her bent body. «Two, maybe three days for the likes o’ you.»

«Which direction?» she asked, as though he would allow an old woman to begin such a long walk at that hour. Alone.

«You’ll come with me.» He turned to glance north-east, in the direction of Clynabroga. «I’ll find someone to take you there on the morrow.»

But when he looked back to her, she was gone. He searched in every direction, but she’d disappeared in the mist. Rohrke muttered a small curse and took to the trail back to Ballygur. There was naught he could do about the woman now, but he hoped no one would find her corpse on the morrow. Not only would it bother his conscience for the rest of his life, it would be the worst omen possible. He needed only favourable portents as he embarked on war with Teague Ó Fionn.

«Ah! There you are,» said Geileis Riaghan, approaching him on the footpath. She was a dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty who’d appeared with her servant, Peadar, in Ballygur a few weeks before. Rohrke wondered about her, but every time he started to ask questions about who she was and from whence she’d come, he lost track of his thoughts. But not this time. He was determined to keep his wits about him as they talked.

She took his arm and walked beside him. He felt potent and mighty when she stood alongside him, and he knew anything was possible. «Did you see an old woman walking this way?»

«Old woman?» Geileis laughed. «Who would be out at this time of night? Surely Áine does not walk these hills at twilight.»

Rohrke masked his surprise. The thought of Áine had not come to him, but in times of old, the goddess had been known to show herself as an old woman at Lough Gur or Cnoc Áine. He hoped the crone was not the deity he would have to bed in order to become Munster’s legitimate high king.

«Teague’s men are gathering beyond the lake,» said Geileis, and Rohrke forgot about the old lady.

«How do you know?»

«Peadar saw them when he went out to hunt.»

Then war was truly imminent. His men must commence sharpening their spears and arrows right away, and he needed to order everyone to stay inside Ballygur’s walls. Áine would just have to understand the unusual circumstances this year.

He considered the terrain near the lake as they walked, and thought about battle plans. He wondered what Teague’s strategy would be. How many men on horseback would he muster? How many swords and spears? His anger grew with every step, and he hoped for nothing more than to spit Teague on his own spear. He was so preoccupied with his fury that he barely heard Geileis’ low chatter beside him.

When they reached the walls of Ballygur, it was almost full dark, and Rohrke could smell the hearth fires that burned in every house. Sedric drew him away from Geileis, and the anger that had burned inside him during the walk home seemed to recede gradually, as did his hazy thoughts.

Something was very odd, but Rohrke could not quite place what it was. He narrowed his eyes as Geileis’ henchman came, took her arm and strode away with her, glancing back at him with a vacant grin. He knew little of the woman and her servant — but when they were together, he never had the wherewithal to question her.

She was beautiful, with hair and eyes as black as the bottom of a well. Her lashes were as dark as soot, and her skin shimmered like alabaster. But she did not stir him, which was just as well, for Sláine Mac Murchada was meant to be his wife.

«My lord, we must talk,» said the Druid.

«Not now, Sedric,» Rohrke walked towards his stone fortress. «There is much to be done.»

«Aye, but we must try to understand what has happened and what Teague hopes to accomplish.»

«He wants our lands. Our cattle.»

«How do you know what he wants?» Sedric demanded, his frustration bleeding through his words. «Neither side has attempted to talk. We’ve always been on reasonably friendly terms with Teague. What’s happened to change that?»

Rohrke blew out a deep breath. He wasn’t sure. Except that his blood boiled every time he thought of Teague’s grin. He wanted to bash the man’s teeth in.

«Something evil works among us, my king,» the Druid continued. «Something dark and terrible.»

«Do not speak to me of elusive evils, Sedric,» Rohrke said.

«What we face is real. ’Tis solid and well armed. We must prepare ourselves — see to our weapons and our horses.»

«Aye.» Sedric dipped his head in a slight bow.

«I don’t know what’s happened to destroy our relations with Teague. I will wed Sláine Mac Murchada tonight, and then we’ll have the forces we need to defeat him.»

«But, my lord,» Sedric said gravely, «you must first bed the goddess.»

Rohrke clenched his teeth. There were many myths and legends surrounding the Scannláin kings, and he knew some of them to be true. But there was far too much at stake now to be thinking about goddesses and solstice celebrations.

«Then I will wait. If my bedding Áine is meant to be, then it will occur upon the morrow, when the goddess comes to Cnoc Áine to partake of our celebrations.»

He only hoped Teague would not attack before then. Rohrke kept moving towards his stone fortress as Sedric talked. «My lord, would you consider sending an emissary to Ó Fionn? There might be a way to end these hostilities peacefully.»

«Why would you think»— Rohrke stopped short at the sight of a young woman approaching from the east end of the village. She looked vaguely familiar, and yet he knew he’d never seen her before. A ripple of pure male awareness surged through him when he looked upon her, but something far deeper touched him when his gaze met hers. «Who is that?»

«I don’t know, my lord,» said Sedric. «She is not of our clan.»

«First Geileis. And now.» He was able to see her clearly in the fading light, perhaps because she was so fair, and clad in a shimmering robe of white. The gown hugged her curves and, when she pushed back her hood, he saw that her hair was as smooth and light as flax, and her eyes the green of a Druid’s flame.

A sharp pang of arousal shot through him, and when she’d finally come to stand before him, Rohrke had to restrain himself from stepping closer, from touching her, from tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her to his private chamber in the keep.

He caught her elusive scent, a fragrance that was entirely unfamiliar — perhaps ’twas even bewitching, for he’d never felt such an intense attraction for any other woman. He wanted her under him, felt desperate to be inside her.

Everything within him shuddered with need that went far beyond his body’s desires. He was not sure he understood it, and he knew he needed to maintain supreme control. Too much was going on in Ballygur — from his imminent marriage, to Teague’s threats, and Geileis’ presence — for him to lose his head in a whirlwind of lust. For that was all it could be. She was the most comely lass he’d ever encountered, and he wanted her.

But he could control himself.

«My lord.» Her voice was low and seductive. She tipped her head in respect, but not obeisance. Somehow, he’d known she would not bow to him. «I am Ana Mac Lochlainn, a traveller in need of shelter.»

Three

Ana paid extreme attention to her footing this time, for the solid, powerful presence of Rohrke Ó Scannláin had a surprisingly potent effect upon her. It was puzzling, for she knew any number of mighty Druzai sorcerers, and yet this Tuath man seemed to be the only one who possessed the power to cause her to trip over her own two feet.

She’d encountered him at Cnoc Áine, of course, while in the guise of the old woman. And even then, she’d needed to absent herself quickly, for the heat of his body and the strength of his touch had made her yearn for something other — something more? — than the Oracle’s cave and the vows she would soon take.

Perhaps it was just because she’d never been away from Coruain, her island home. Her clan of warrior-sorcerers had left Ireland many millennia ago, so Ana had never encountered a Tuath human before. She couldn’t have known they possessed a kind of energy that would skitter up her spine and make her yearn.

No. Any diversion could not be. Ana had been born to the most powerful Druzai clan, and had trained to become a formidable seer on Coruain. She’d been groomed from infancy to take her place as the next Oracle, and was deeply immersed in the process of preparing her body and mind for the grave responsibilities that faced her.

«You are a stranger to Ballygur,» Rohrke said, and his voice seemed to rumble through her. She wondered if he had Druzai blood, for there was surely some kind of magic in him.

«Aye,» she replied. «From. the north.»

He frowned, scrutinizing her carefully. «You come from King Lochlainn Mac Cailein’s realm?»

Ana nodded in spite of the lie, startled when he repeated the name Lochlainn. The Druzai high chieftains had certainly left their mark here in Ireland.

«Why have you come?»

She’d anticipated this question, but was unsure how to answer it. Clearly, she could not tell Rohrke she was a Druzai seer who’d foreseen troubles between the Irish clans with vile ollphéists in their midst. She could put a spell upon him, making him accept her as a mere traveller to Ballygur. But such tactics were unscrupulous, and Ana abhorred trickery.