Morrigan's Cross (Circle Trilogy 1)

She leaned out, bumped the stone sill. And the arrow shot out of the bow with a deadly twang. She actually squealed. She’d hate herself for it later, but the purely female sound of shock and distress ripped out of her as the arrow sliced air and rain.

And landed, just a few inches short of the toe of Hoyt’s boot.

Their swords were out, a blur of steel, as they pivoted back-to-back. Under other circumstances she would have admired the move, the sheer grace and rhythm of it, like a dance step. But at the moment, she was caught between mortification and horror.

“Sorry! Sorry!” She leaned out farther, waved her arm frantically as she shouted. “It was me. It got away from me. I was just…” Oh hell with it. “I’m coming down.”

She left the weapon where it was, vowing to take a full hour of practice with it before she shot at anything but a target again. Before she set off in a run, she heard the unmistakable sound of male laughter. A quick glance showed her it was Cian, all but doubled over with it. Hoyt simply stood, staring up at the window.

As she swung down the stairs, Larkin came out of the training room. “Trouble?”

“No, no. Nothing. Everything’s fine. It’s nothing at all.” She could actually feel the blood rise up to heat her cheeks as she dashed for the main floor.

They were coming in the front door, shaking themselves like wet dogs as she sprinted down the last steps.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Remind me not to piss you off, Red,” Cian said easily. “You might aim for my heart and shoot me in the balls.”

“I was just keeping watch for you, and I must’ve pulled the trigger by mistake. Which I wouldn’t have done if the two of you hadn’t been gone so damn long and had me so worried.”

“That’s what I love about women.” Cian slapped his brother’s shoulder. “They damn near kill you, but in the end it’s your own fault. Good luck with that. I’m going to bed.”

“I need to check your burns.”

“Nag, nag, nag.”

“And what happened? Were you attacked? Your mouth’s bleeding—yours, too,” she said to Hoyt. “And your eye’s damn near swollen shut.”

“No, we weren’t attacked.” There was a world of exasperation in his voice. “Until you nearly shot me in the foot.”

“Your faces are all banged up, and your clothes are filthy—ripped. If you weren’t…” It came to her, when she saw the expressions on their faces. She had a brother of her own, after all. “You punched each other? Each other?”

“He hit me first.”

She gave Cian a look that would have withered stone. “Well, that’s just fine, isn’t it? Didn’t we go through all this yesterday? Didn’t we talk about infighting, how destructive and useless it is?”

“I guess we’re going to bed without our supper.”

“Don’t get smart with me.” She jabbed a finger into Cian’s chest. “I’m here worried half sick, and the two of you are out there wrestling around like a couple of idiot puppies.”

“You nearly put an arrow in my foot,” Hoyt reminded her. “I think we’re quits on foolish behavior for one day.”

She only hissed out a breath. “Into the kitchen, both of you. I’ll do something about those cuts and bruises. Again.”

“I’m having my bed,” Cian began.

“Both of you. Now. You don’t want to mess with me at the moment.”

As she sailed off, Cian rubbed a finger gently on his split lip. “It’s been a long while, but I don’t recall you having a particular fondness for bossy women.”

“I didn’t, previously. But I understand them well enough to know we might as well be after letting her have her way on this. And the fact is, my eye’s paining me.”

When they came in, Glenna was setting what she needed out on the table. She had the kettle on the boil, and her sleeves rolled up.

“Do you want blood?” she said to Cian, with enough frost in the words to have him clearing his throat.

It amazed him that he actually felt chagrined. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt in…too long to remember. Obviously living so closely with humans was a bad influence.