at Tiarnan.
He glanced down at Shealy, still confused about what had happened. He hadn’t been able to pierce those ironlike feathers either. His sword had chinks in it from the effort. But Shealy, child in her arms, had stood in front of them as they bore down on her. She’d held out that useless arrow, as if that could stop a creature of that size and weight. But then he’d felt a shift—like a wave washing over him. Only there was no water, no dampness, and not a whisper of breeze. Still the air had shimmered, like sheer silk flapping between him and Shealy and the ellén trechend . When it was done, he’d sensed a change, sensed the creatures hesitate as if they, too, had felt it. He’d swung his sword and the creatures had bled.
“They wanted her,” Jamie said, nodding at Shealy, who’d gone very still in Tiarnan’s arms. “Why?”
Shealy pulled back a little and looked at Jamie with those big drenched eyes. But her head was up and her back straight. She shifted the child she held, putting a protective hand over the girl’s white blonde hair and dipping her chin so that her own hair fell forward in that practiced gesture he’d seen last night. The silky puckers of her scars were barely noticeable, but she didn’t like others to see them. That much was clear.
She caught him staring and lifted her chin higher, her eyes shuttered. She hadn’t moved and yet he felt the chill of her withdrawal, just as he had last night when she’d turned away from him. Tiarnan had let it happen then, but now he tightened his arms, keeping her in place, refusing to let her move away.
“Who is she?” Zac asked.
“My name is Shealy O’Leary.”
“I know who you are,” Reyes said. “I’ve seen you on TV.”
She nodded, but Tiarnan was confused. He didn’t know what TV was, but he didn’t like that Reyes had seen her there. Disconcerted by the power of his possessive feelings, he said nothing.
Zac and Jamie looked as if they’d suddenly solved a perplexing puzzle. “That’s why you looked familiar last night,” Jamie muttered. “Just when you think it can’t get any fucking weirder.” All three men wore an expression of awe and a bit of knowing that was far too personal . They all spoke in the same manner, shared a cadence in their language that struck him as similar. They could easily be from the same time and place. They might even have met one another there. For all Tiarnan knew, TV was a way of saying neighbors, friends . . . lovers.
Irritated at the anger that stirred, he glanced at Shealy again. Her expression had smoothed and not a flicker of emotion showed on it. She might have been cast from stone the way she stared back without actually focusing on any one of them. Tiarnan sensed self-preservation in her every breath.
He didn’t like being on the ground with the others towering over him. Without a word he stood, pulling Shealy and the child up with him and keeping her close to his side when she tried to move away.
In her arms, the child sniffled, and Shealy asked, “Do you know who this little girl is?”
“Ellie,” Tiarnan said.
“Who is her mother?”
The men looked from one to another, none of them wanting to say it. What did it matter who her mother had been when now she was almost certainly dead?
Tiarnan cleared his throat. “Maggie. Her mother was Maggie.”
“Maggie who?”
Tiarnan glanced around the circle again, looking for a sign that one of them knew. They shook their heads.
Jamie said, “Last names don’t get used too much around here. I don’t think anyone ever knew hers.”
Shealy frowned, but went on with her questions. “When was Ellie born?”
“Not long after we came,” Zac said, blue eyes framed with sorrow. “Maggie was pregnant when she got here. I had some field training in the service and that made me the closest thing to a doctor around. I helped deliver Ellie.”
“Why do y’ ask, Shealy?” Tiarnan said softly.
“My mother’s name was
He glanced down at Shealy, still confused about what had happened. He hadn’t been able to pierce those ironlike feathers either. His sword had chinks in it from the effort. But Shealy, child in her arms, had stood in front of them as they bore down on her. She’d held out that useless arrow, as if that could stop a creature of that size and weight. But then he’d felt a shift—like a wave washing over him. Only there was no water, no dampness, and not a whisper of breeze. Still the air had shimmered, like sheer silk flapping between him and Shealy and the ellén trechend . When it was done, he’d sensed a change, sensed the creatures hesitate as if they, too, had felt it. He’d swung his sword and the creatures had bled.
“They wanted her,” Jamie said, nodding at Shealy, who’d gone very still in Tiarnan’s arms. “Why?”
Shealy pulled back a little and looked at Jamie with those big drenched eyes. But her head was up and her back straight. She shifted the child she held, putting a protective hand over the girl’s white blonde hair and dipping her chin so that her own hair fell forward in that practiced gesture he’d seen last night. The silky puckers of her scars were barely noticeable, but she didn’t like others to see them. That much was clear.
She caught him staring and lifted her chin higher, her eyes shuttered. She hadn’t moved and yet he felt the chill of her withdrawal, just as he had last night when she’d turned away from him. Tiarnan had let it happen then, but now he tightened his arms, keeping her in place, refusing to let her move away.
“Who is she?” Zac asked.
“My name is Shealy O’Leary.”
“I know who you are,” Reyes said. “I’ve seen you on TV.”
She nodded, but Tiarnan was confused. He didn’t know what TV was, but he didn’t like that Reyes had seen her there. Disconcerted by the power of his possessive feelings, he said nothing.
Zac and Jamie looked as if they’d suddenly solved a perplexing puzzle. “That’s why you looked familiar last night,” Jamie muttered. “Just when you think it can’t get any fucking weirder.” All three men wore an expression of awe and a bit of knowing that was far too personal . They all spoke in the same manner, shared a cadence in their language that struck him as similar. They could easily be from the same time and place. They might even have met one another there. For all Tiarnan knew, TV was a way of saying neighbors, friends . . . lovers.
Irritated at the anger that stirred, he glanced at Shealy again. Her expression had smoothed and not a flicker of emotion showed on it. She might have been cast from stone the way she stared back without actually focusing on any one of them. Tiarnan sensed self-preservation in her every breath.
He didn’t like being on the ground with the others towering over him. Without a word he stood, pulling Shealy and the child up with him and keeping her close to his side when she tried to move away.
In her arms, the child sniffled, and Shealy asked, “Do you know who this little girl is?”
“Ellie,” Tiarnan said.
“Who is her mother?”
The men looked from one to another, none of them wanting to say it. What did it matter who her mother had been when now she was almost certainly dead?
Tiarnan cleared his throat. “Maggie. Her mother was Maggie.”
“Maggie who?”
Tiarnan glanced around the circle again, looking for a sign that one of them knew. They shook their heads.
Jamie said, “Last names don’t get used too much around here. I don’t think anyone ever knew hers.”
Shealy frowned, but went on with her questions. “When was Ellie born?”
“Not long after we came,” Zac said, blue eyes framed with sorrow. “Maggie was pregnant when she got here. I had some field training in the service and that made me the closest thing to a doctor around. I helped deliver Ellie.”
“Why do y’ ask, Shealy?” Tiarnan said softly.
“My mother’s name was
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