Children of the Moon 04 - Dragon's Moon

a member of the clan.
    He and Laird Talorc seemed to be great friends, but Ciara could not banish her fears Eirik would try to wrest power over the clan from her laird. He was a dragon after all, much more powerful than a wolf—even one of Laird Talorc’s superiority.
    In the sennight since his people had joined the clan, Eirik seemed to play an increasingly important role in the running of things. And Laird Talorc, in his arrogance, showed not the least sign of worry at this event.
    Even Guaire consulted Eirik before going to his laird when assigning duties and crofter’s huts to the Éan and the humans that had come with them. Ciara had asked Niall about it, but he’d just given one of his rare smiles and told her not to worry herself, that all was as it should be. Niall claimed that his mate’s loyalty would always be first and foremost to the Sinclair.
    Which Ciara believed, but it wouldn’t matter if Laird Talorc died in a challenge with a dragon, would it? So Ciara worried. Though she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to care.
    “You are fidgeting,” Abigail said in that soft voice that seemed to only carry one tone.
    Ciara made sure Abigail could see her speak to read her lips when she said, “I am not very hungry.”
    “You are never hungry, but you must eat.” The stern expression on Abigail’s kind face brooked no argument.
    Ciara didn’t give one. She’d avoided as many mealtimes as possible since the dragon had moved into the keep and begun sharing their table. This latemeal she’d been thwarted though. Talorc himself had found her in the great hall earlier and told her not to eat with the children as she often pretended to.
    He wanted her presence at the table at latemeal. After seven years living with his family as one of them, Ciara could hardly refuse.
    “I’m not eating for two,” she said to Abigail, letting the other woman know that Ciara was aware of her joyous secret.
    Pure happiness suffused Abigail’s features. “I am with child? I had hoped, but it was too soon to be sure.”
    “You mean Talorc does not know?”
    Abigail shook her head. “He didn’t know with the boys, either. Niall figured it out first. I thought he and his twin, Barr, were the only wolves with such a strong sense of smell.”
    “There is very little change in your body’s scent yet.”
    “Then how?”
    Ciara weighed continuing to hide her secrets against the need to tell someone about the Faolchú Chridhe . Perhaps she could start with this small revelation and build toward the visions that stole her rest and demanded her action. “I had a dream.”
    Abigail assessed Ciara for a long, silent moment and then asked, “Do you dream of things that come to pass?”
    “Sometimes.” She’d dreamed of her mother’s death long before it happened, so long that she’d made herself forget until she walked into the bedroom that stank with spilled blood. “The dreams are different, special and I wake up knowing they are real.”
    Abigail’s eyes burned with curiosity. “What did you dream about me?”
    “I saw you in the chair by the great fireplace. You suckled a babe in your arms while the boys played a game with their sticks Niall whittled for them on the bearskin near the hearth.”
    Far from looking like she doubted Ciara’s words, Abigail’s expression was naught but excited hopefulness. “Was the babe a boy or girl?”
    “Girl.”
    Abigail reached out and hugged her so tight, Ciara squeaked. “Thank you, daughter. Thank you.”
    Abigail released her and Ciara could not help it. She laughed. To be believed was gift enough, but to have her knowledge received with such joy was fantastic.
    The conversations around them stopped, quietness descending like a blanket over the head table.
    Confused, Ciara looked around her, finally meeting Guaire’s eyes and asking a question with her own. Had Talorc said something important and she missed it?
    Guaire was smiling and he shook his head in silent answer to her unasked question. “You laughed,” he mouthed to her.
    Frowning in confusion, she looked at Laird Talorc, but he was busy kissing his mate. Ciara’s gaze shifted beyond the happy couple only to snag on the fierce amber gaze of the dragon. Unlike the rest of the room, his attention had not shifted to the laird and his lady.
    It was fixed firmly on Ciara. He said nothing, but his eyes burned with a message that found an answer deep inside her. Desire, hot and bright, burned through her