Lionheart (Moonshadow Book 3) Read online

  “That sounds amazing,” she replied. “I’m famished.”

  She followed Sophie to the kitchen where they visited over the tea, sandwiches, and scones. It was good to see the witch so happy. It showed in the sparkle in her eyes and the healthy luster of her freckled skin.

  When Kathryn had met her, Sophie had still been in recovery from a life-threatening injury. She’d been closed in, strung tight, and underweight. Now, despite the presence of armed guards everywhere, she was obviously at home and relaxed, and she laughed often.

  Seeing the changes made Kathryn happy. She cast around for something to say that would encourage Sophie to talk about it. “You and Nikolas are happy?”

  “You know, we are,” Sophie said. She sounded surprised, and then she laughed. “He’s not anything I would have imagined for myself, and we fight all the time. He has this old-world chauvinism that drives me nuts—and I know I drive him nuts, because I don’t let him get away with it. He says I’m too contrary, and I say he’s too dictatorial, but in spite of all that, we manage to make things work. I can’t even tell you how.”

  There it was, the elusive, ephemeral thing, condition, whatever you wanted to call it. Bond. Nik and Sophie had it in abundance, and they weren’t even Wyr, or at least Sophie wasn’t. Since the Daoine Sidhe were a community of mixed-race Elder Races, Kathryn supposed it was possible that Nik might have some Wyr in his blood.

  Humans had the capacity to bond too. To love. But if things didn’t work out, it rarely killed them like it did the Wyr when they lost a mate. The Wyr might mate for life, but perhaps it was good that mating was a relatively rare experience.

  Every Wyr was conditioned from an early age to avoid pining for something that most likely wouldn’t happen. It was entirely possible to have a full, satisfying life filled with many different kinds of loves—friendships, affairs, even marriages.

  Kathryn had never met a potential mate, but she enjoyed a full life while experiencing the friendships and affairs. Still, it was fascinating to watch from the sidelines when others went through the mating process.

  Children were also rare to all the Elder Races, but even children could come to unmated Wyr, just as Kathryn had come into her father’s life. Her mother had been Francis Shaw’s mistress, and when she had become pregnant he had honored the relationship by marrying her. She had died in a carriage accident when Kathryn was still a baby. She had always been grateful to have at least one of her parents as she was growing up. Losing her father decades ago to a terrorist attack in London was an old ache that never quite went away.

  Pulling out of her reverie, she sipped her tea. “I suppose it doesn’t matter if you don’t know how your relationship with Nik works, as long as it does. The most important thing is that you’re both in it together.”

  “Yes.” Sophie’s smile was bright and broad. “We’re all in.”

  A quick tap sounded on the back door. Giving Kathryn a meaningful nod and grin, Sophie rose to answer it, and a moment later Annwyn stalked into the kitchen. She was one of those people who could make a room shrink just by the strength of her presence.

  Her fierce green gaze landed on Kathryn. “You’re here.”

  Kathryn had lived with people like Annwyn for many, many years, and she could recognize Annwyn’s type from a mile away. The other woman was so purpose-driven she would steamroll right over you if you let her. Kathryn wasn’t going to let her.

  “Yes. I arrived this morning, met with my solicitor to take care of a few things, and hopped in a rental car right after that.” She bit into a scone with pleasure. “It’s good to take a break and eat. This is my first meal of the day.”

  “Please, join us,” Sophie said to Annwyn. “Would you like a cup of tea? Perhaps a sandwich and a scone?”

  Just as Kathryn had seen her do in the meeting hall a week ago, Annwyn paused, then drew herself in as if reaching for patience. “Yes, thank you.”

  Annwyn seated herself as Sophie got her a cup, a plate, and silverware. After a moment, Annwyn said in a measured tone, “While I know just how significant the time slippage is between Earth and Lyonesse, it’s hard to internalize it emotionally. For so long I’ve lived with a sense of urgency, and it’s difficult to relax when I know so many of the Daoine Sidhe are suffering.”

  Kathryn met Sophie’s gaze for a moment. Then, as the younger woman turned to get the teakettle from the stove, Kathryn smiled at Annwyn. Gently, she said, “I am going to do everything I can for him, you know.”

  Annwyn studied her closely, then sat back in her chair. “I believe you will. When will you be ready to cross over?”

  Framing that as a question, she could see, took major effort. Like Annwyn said, it was hard for her not to push. She considered how she wanted to answer.

  Finally she said, “I slept on the flight, I took care of the last of my business affairs this morning, and I’m not here to sightsee. Visiting with Sophie was the one thing I wanted to do, and we’ve been doing that. I want to finish my meal, take a shower, and put on an appropriate outfit. After that, I’m all yours.”

  Annwyn straightened in her chair, and the fierceness roared back. “Excellent.”

  As they resumed their meal, Kathryn asked, “So, what comes next?”

  “Once we cross over, we lose the luxury of the extra time we’ve had here on Earth,” Annwyn said. “So I have struck a bargain with one of our people. He’s… unusual. He’s a nature sprite, and he has agreed to help. He’s waiting for us now on the other side of the passageway. With his aid we can reach the city much more quickly than we could if we had to travel on our own. Half the city is underwater from flooding, and the other half is frozen. We had to evacuate the general population from there some time ago. I want to set up a base camp on high ground, and we’ll work from there.”

  Her plan sounded sensible enough. Kathryn nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

  When she finished eating, Sophie showed her the bathroom and brought towels and a washcloth. Thanking her, Kathryn said, “May I store my luggage here until I get back?”

  “Of course!” Sophie gestured to her clothes. “I’ll wash your outfit and store that in your suitcase, too, so it’s ready for you when you get back.”

  “Thank you.”

  She took the towels, and when she would have stepped into the bathroom, Sophie laid a hand on her arm. Telepathically, she said, I know the nature sprite Annwyn was talking about.

  Kathryn looked at her curiously. Yes?

  His name is Robin, Sophie told her. We bonded over the summer, and I love him, but he’s quite unpredictable. Isabeau held him captive and tortured him for a very long time, and I don’t think he’s healed yet.

  How unfortunate. Why did Sophie consider this important enough to tell Kathryn privately? She wasn’t sure she liked the implications in that. What does that mean, exactly?

  It means… The other woman bit her lip, clearly struggling for the right words. It means he doesn’t always make the right decisions, or at least he makes decisions based on criteria that you and I might not have.

  Kathryn knew all about very old, damaged creatures. Several had been patients of hers at one time or another. She pursed her lips. I see.

  I want you to understand. Sophie looked at her intently. Robin’s not BAD. At least—I don’t think he’s bad, but he’s dangerous. I’m not clear why he would make a bargain with Annwyn when he has unresolved resentment for the rest of the Dark Court. It’s possible I’m overthinking this. He probably did it because his first loyalty is to Oberon, but I just wanted you to know. You’re walking into a situation that has a lot of history and nuances. Lots and lots of nuances.

  I appreciate that. Kathryn squeezed her hand. It’s much better to be armed with knowledge than not. Thank you.

  You’re welcome. I feel better now. Sophie stepped back. Enjoy your shower.

  Sophie had given her plenty of food for thought. Kathryn mulled over everything as she brushed her teeth, then luxuriated in a long, h
ot shower and soaped through her hair twice. She even took the time to shave her legs, because she had no idea when she might get another hot shower or the chance to do so again. She was extrapolating, but access to easy, copious amounts of hot water didn’t sound very plausible once she crossed over.

  The near future felt uncertain and exciting. She liked that. Often her job made her feel that way, but for all its challenges, it fell prey to routine. I needed more adventure in my life, she mouthed as she stood with her head under the shower, relishing the sensual way the warm water poured around her moving lips.

  The Dark Court sounded like it had a lot of heavy baggage. That meant it sounded like virtually every other Elder Races demesne in the world. Old creatures meant tangled grudges, ancient resentments, divided loyalties, and hidden motives. Just like home.

  Chuckling, she stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and dried her hair thoroughly. Once she was dressed, she went into the living room to rearrange the items she would take with her into her two packs.

  Her original pack would be the one she would grab in case of emergency, and she wanted to tuck some of the food packs in it. She would ditch the second one if she had to, because she couldn’t hike long distances carrying both. But they both contained items that would be useful to have. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to leave one behind.

  Annwyn had left while Kathryn got ready. When she returned, she was dressed in heavy winter clothing too, and she had a sword strapped to her back. She eyed Kathryn’s new outfit with approval. “I like jeans.”

  “You would really like these. They’re made for cold weather.” Lifting up her sweater, she turned down the waistband so Annwyn could see the flannel lining inside.

  The other woman’s expression lit with interest. “When we return to Earth, I must seek out a pair of those. Are you ready?”

  She nodded. Giving Sophie a quick hug, she hefted up her two packs, settled one on each shoulder by a strap, and followed Annwyn to the manor house. They met Rowan and Gawain at the huge front doors.

  The men were dressed in hardy winter clothing as well. Nodding to her in greeting, they lifted her packs away. She didn’t protest. They had much more body mass than she did, as well as wider shoulders, and decades of running a challenging medical practice had taught her to conserve her energy until she had to expend it.

  As they followed Annwyn inside, Kathryn stared around in fascination. For hundreds of years the peculiar magic of the house had kept it locked against all who would enter. Sophie was the first person to unlock this house’s mysteries and step inside. From the drunken euphoria in her voice when she called with the news, Kathryn could imagine how she had felt.

  If Kathryn had merely been visiting, she might have wanted to poke around the house, but it was clear from Annwyn’s own emotional struggle that too many people were depending on Kathryn to do her job. It wouldn’t be fair to abrade already strained nerves by lingering.

  She needed to get to Oberon as quickly as possible to examine him. Then she needed to heal him if she could.

  Failing that, she would need to break the bad news to the Daoine Sidhe as quickly as possible so they knew in what direction they needed to move in order to heal as a people. A lot was riding on Kathryn getting this right.

  So she would get it right.

  Chapter Four

  Traveling the passageway at the manor house was certainly the most idiosyncratic crossover Kathryn had ever experienced.

  A very long time ago, Morgan le Fae—she must remember to call him Garanhir and not something that was so offensive to him—had broken the crossover passageway in an ancient battle between Isabeau’s Light Court and the Daoine Sidhe. Then Kathryn’s idiotic ancestor had the perfect lack of good sense to build the manor house on top of the broken land magic.

  Sophie had figured out the correct path through the broken pieces that would still lead to Lyonesse. It had involved descending into an oubliette and digging a tunnel, which had since been widened and supported with timber beams.

  As Kathryn emerged from the tunnel behind Gawain, intense cold slapped her face. Pausing outside the entrance, she took a deep breath and looked around.

  It was night in Lyonesse, with lowering clouds and bitter winds. Wilderness slashed across an uneven horizon that was broken with rock. The only illumination came from flickering torchlights and campfires from the troops stationed on the spot.

  No halogen lighting. No electricity. No cars, no planes, no asphalt. In response, her Wyr side, the wildest part of her, surged up in fierce joy.

  She looked over the tents and the raw timber frames of what would soon be structures. Sophie had kept Kathryn updated on various details of her new life regularly, and according to her emails they had started building the shelters months ago.

  But since a fortnight in Lyonesse would take six months or more of Earth time to pass, here they had just begun to build the housing that would be necessary to keep the troops and their mounts in safety.

  She followed Annwyn to the largest campfire, content to study the scene with reined-in glee while the general conferred with the soldiers huddling close to the warmth.

  Rowan touched her arm. “Would you like to step inside one of the tents? We could get a hot drink for you.”

  She hadn’t even resorted to putting up her hood yet and shook her head. “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Okay, but don’t hesitate to say if you get too cold.”

  “Will do.”

  Annwyn turned back to them, frowning. “Robin has refused to stay in the camp, but he must be close by. Rowan and Gawain, circle the clearing and call out for him.” Her frustrated gaze met Kathryn’s briefly. “He’ll show up when he’s ready to, I guess.”

  Kathryn nodded as she continued to peruse the area.

  Annwyn switched to telepathy. About Robin. Just so you know, he’s a puck—a nature sprite, which means he’s wilder than most.

  She noted the other woman made no mention of old resentments or tensions. Was Annwyn unaware of them, or was she simply giving the kind of warning she thought was suitable for a visitor to hear?

  Over the years, Kathryn had talked to countless families of patients and had heard and seen it all—justifications, arguments, enablers, outright hostility, love, hate, hope, lies, despair. Who knew what the truth was in Annwyn’s case—and who cared? Kathryn had one job: healing Oberon. Anything else was superfluous.

  I appreciate you telling me, she replied, filing the conversation away in case it became useful to her mission.

  The troops had started to widen a natural clearing, and raw tree trunks studded the ground along the tree line. Also, she noted, shelter for their cattle had come first. They had already erected one wall of what would be a proper stable, and a rough roof of sorts comprised of pine tree boughs had been piled on top of the building frame. Campfires were positioned at both ends of the partial shelter. In the reflected light, she could see the animals standing close together, draped in heavy blankets.

  Horses and cows could tolerate pretty cold temperatures—twenty degrees Fahrenheit or lower if they had to—so the fact that the Daoine Sidhe were emphasizing their safety indicated how bitter the temperatures must get at night.

  As if Annwyn had read her mind, the other woman said, “Lyle tells me the bad weather has been coming in waves. I don’t know what that means about Oberon’s condition, if anything, other than he’s still alive. We’re in a lull right now.”

  Kathryn nodded again. “Hopefully they’ll get the barn finished before the next wave hits. Then if worse comes to worst, they can shelter with the animals.”

  The other woman nodded. “That was their thinking. The cattle throw off a lot of heat. It’s a bit smelly to bunk with the animals, but overall it’s a good survival tactic.”

  As they chatted, Kathryn’s gaze fell on the area designated as the woodpile. Several cords had already been cut and stacked neatly, and still more lay in haphazard piles around the trunks that were being used t
o split the wood.

  In the darkest shadow behind the cord farthest from the fire, a pair of eyes watched her.

  The eyes themselves were so deep in shadow they were almost as dark as the rest of the night. Someone with lesser eyesight wouldn’t have seen it, but Kathryn’s vision was unusual even among the Wyr. Because of her animal form, she could pick out small prey from very long distances and a rabbit from up to two miles away.

  She said nothing about the presence behind the woodpile. Instead, she positioned herself to face it and looked back steadily.

  I see you. She didn’t say it, either aloud or telepathically. She didn’t have to. She merely waited.

  Her patience was soon rewarded.

  There was a flicker of barely seen movement. Then a figure in the shape of a tall, thin teenage boy detached from the shadows and walked toward the campfire.

  Any potential resemblance to youth ended as the creature grew closer. Kathryn inspected him with interest. He had spiky, nut-brown hair, a thin, wild face and ageless, feral eyes.

  While everyone else was bundled against the cold, he wore pants, boots, and a woolen coat left carelessly open. He also wore a rather odd scarf, royal blue with gold buttons, but he wore no gloves on hands that had too many fingers, and when he smiled he had too many teeth as well, and they were sharp and white.

  Whatever form he might choose to wear, those teeth revealed something useful about his real nature. Those were a predator’s teeth.

  “You must be Robin,” she said as he drew near. “I’m Kathryn Shaw.”

  “I am indeed,” Robin said. “And I am a host of other names besides. I’ll be betting you have other names and titles too. But which is the truest?”

  As the only heir to an English title, it so happened that Kathryn did have other names and titles, but the only relevant title she cared about was the one she had earned through her own sweat equity.

  His question was probably nothing more than playfulness, but it still caught at her. Which one was the truest—falcon or doctor? She didn’t know.