The Evolution of Fae and Gods (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 3)

Instead, he pulls back and looks down warily.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, immediately concerned because I can feel his body has become stiff.

His hands pull my arms off his shoulders, one sliding down to lace his fingers through mine. He leads me over to the balcony’s edge, which secures our safety with a low wall that comes up to my stomach but barely to Carrick’s hips. I’m able to easily look out at the city below, as ever since Carrick magically calmed my anxiety before we rode the gryffins in Faere, I’ve not been afraid of heights.

Leaning his elbows on the flat stone top, he releases my hand and looks out over the darkened water with city lights shining on it. The sky is clear, and Bainbridge Island twinkles across the sound.

“It’s time for that talk,” he says, and my heart starts a tripping beat.

Turning slightly to face me, he leans a hip against the wall. I match him like a mirror and try to ignore the fact I’m actually a little scared. I know whatever he’s about to tell me is going to change us, and I just don’t know if it will be for better or worse.

“There’s something I need to explain to you,” he begins slowly, his eyes locked onto mine in a way that I’m simply unable to look away. “Things are starting to move now, and the danger is mounting. I can’t risk something happening to you without you knowing the full truth.”

“Okay,” I drawl hesitantly because I can see the dread in his eyes, which, to my dismay, have darkened to burnt amber.

Carrick’s neck twists, and he looks out over the water before bringing his attention back to me. “Remember I told you I had spent time in Ireland?”

I nod. “Where you found Zaid.”

“Eighth century,” Carrick reminds me of the details. “But I stayed there a long time. Onyx had placed me there to help the Irish repel Viking attacks.”

“Why?” I ask curiously.

Carrick frowns. “I don’t know. We don’t ask. We just… do. But back then, she was worshipped as Neit, the Celtic god of War and I suppose she wanted to show gratitude for such worship.”

It was a cage he lived in, and it breaks my heart. I reach out and take his hand in mine. He glances down, sees the link we have, then looks back up to me with a wan smile.

“Onyx had set me up as a high-ranking lord under high kings of Ireland. I was there for a long time, so I moved around often. I used glamours to change appearance and age appropriately, and because it wasn’t a heavily populated country, I was able to stay for quite a while.”

“How long exactly?”

A small smile comes to his face. “Roughly four hundred years.”

“You told me it was your favorite time and place to live.” The memory comes back to me, and I know this country has special meaning to him for more than just a fondness for chasing off Vikings.

“It was,” he replies, and he again looks down at our hands. He squeezes and meets my gaze. “Because I met a woman.”

My hand reflexively jerks, trying to pull back at the mention of another woman in his life. Not just any woman, either.

Someone important to him.

Carrick holds me tight, refusing to let me retreat.

“Her name was Eireann, and, at that time, I was going by the name of Banan. One day, I was riding through some farmlands that bordered mine and I heard her scream. It came from a thick copse of trees, and I didn’t even bother to race my horse there. I bent distance and came upon her flat on her back with a huge Viking on top of her, attempting to rape her.”

“Oh no,” I murmur in dismay, my heart going out to a woman I don’t know.

“I pulled him off, flung him back, and turned to make sure she was okay. She was no frightened lass, mewling in terror. No, she jumped up, fury in her eyes, and whipped a dagger out from under her skirt. As the Viking was getting to his feet, she rushed at him, intent on cutting off his balls.”

Carrick smiles, amused, filled with a memory that obviously still makes him feel good after all these years. I hate her slightly for it.

“I stopped her, of course, not wanting someone’s death—even her almost rapist—on her conscience. I killed the Viking and escorted her back to her home. She lived with her ailing father and had been out collecting mushrooms in the forest. This was in the year 1015, and the High King of Ireland, Brian Boru, had just defeated the Vikings at the Battle of Clontarf. The country was relatively safe, but raiding Viking ships would troll the Irish shores. She had thought it safe to wander out on her own, and I lectured her that it was not. She and her father were incredibly grateful, and they invited me to eat a simple dinner with them.”