Children of the Moon 04 - Dragon's Moon

you go flying off in your dragon form when you get into a snit?”
    “I do not have snits.” And he had never taken his dragon form when there was risk of being seen except around her.
    She was bad for his secrets and too much a challenge to his self-control.
    “Of course not, Your Royal Highness. A prince would never admit to something so mundane.” Ciara said the word prince like another might say dung .
    But he refused to be drawn. “Do not attempt to change the subject. I asked what you knew of our sacred stone.”
    “Very little.”
    “Do not lie.”
    “I am not.” Her eyes threw green daggers at him.
    “She can mask her deceit,” Lais inserted and then went back to full concentration on his patient.
    The daggered look turned onto the once-again-oblivious healer.
    Eirik said, “That is not possible.”
    “Just as it is impossible to turn into a dragon,” Ciara said with pure sarcasm. “I’ll make a note of that.”
    “The Sinclair said you were quiet. Biddable.”
    With an expression of affront, she demanded, “Are you saying I am not?”
    “Aye.”
    She crossed her arms, no doubt having no idea how it impacted the fit of his shirt on her. The action put her lovely breasts into relief, making her dusky nipples press against the thin linen. The hem had drawn up as well, exposing more of her enticing legs.
    All of it topped by an expression that tempted him to tame her. “You? Are arrogant.”
    “And you have yet to admit how you came to know about our sacred stone.”
    “My brother.”
    Just mention of the man filled Eirik with fury. “He told you of our stone? Had he plans to steal it?”
    “Of course not. He told me the stories of the sacred stones, how they could bestow gifts during the coming-of-age ceremony and be used to heal those of Chrechte decent.”
    “Like me.” The words were spoken in a weak femininevoice and had both Eirik and Ciara spinning to face Mairi and Lais.
    “You are Chrechte?” Eirik asked with disbelief.
    The woman had no scent of animal at all.
    “My father is.”
    “But you have no beast.”
    “She can give me one.” Mairi pointed to Ciara. “She is keeper of the Faolchú Chridhe .”
    “The wolves have a sacred stone?” He glared at Ciara.
    He would not believe it. What stories had she told this broken human? If it were true, Talorc would have revealed such to Eirik. If not the Sinclair, then Barr. Eirik’s brother by marriage would not have kept something so important from him.
    Ciara did not meet his eyes, something secretive in her demeanor. “It was lost before we joined the clans.”
    “But she can find it,” Mairi claimed.
    The slight wince was barely there on Ciara’s face, but he saw it. Had she made the claim to Mairi and not expected to be held accountable for it, or did Ciara not want the Éan to know of her hopes to find the Faolchú Chridhe ? Did Ciara share her brother’s view of the Éan?
    “Is this true?” Eirik demanded, wanting more answers than he would ask for. “Never mind. You can mask any lie you tell me. I will ask Talorc.”
    He turned toward the keep, determined to do just that.
    “Wait.” Ciara’s voice was too urgent to deny.
    He stopped, not turning back toward her.
    “I have not told him yet.” He could hear her moving toward him and then feel her hand on his arm. “Please, let me tell him.”
    He spun to face the femwolf, knocking her hand away from him with his quick movement. “You have not bothered to tell your laird?”
    She shook her head. “I haven’t told anyone since Galen. I was afraid to, afraid it would spark the same madness in them.”
    “You blame your sacred stone for your brother’s idiocy?”
    “No, I blame his desire to use its power, but I couldn’t be sure…”
    Her lack of trust in Talorc staggered Eirik. “The man believes himself your father,” he bit out.
    “He is, in all the ways that count, but Galen was my brother, my protector. And still, finding the Faolchú Chridhe was more important to him than anything else.” Her voice was husky with an old grief, but her eyes glittered with fresh fear.
    “Talorc is nothing like your brother.”
    “I know.”
    “And still you have not told him of the wolves’ sacred stone?”
    “I planned to.”
    “When?”
    “Soon.”
    “Why wait?” He wanted her to admit it, her mistrust of her own father and laird.
    “It has great power, temptation for even the most honorable Chrechte. It can call forth the conriocht , not just the