Children of the Moon 04 - Dragon's Moon

kind to me for me to dismiss her feelings though. She is a gentle soul.”
    “She must be strong to make the laird such a good mate though.”
    “She is. Gentle does not equal weak.”
    “But you protect her feelings at the expense of your own comfort.”
    “It’s what family does.” And even when Ciara had not wanted to acknowledge she had a family, she’d understood that.
    Eirik shook his head, but he didn’t argue any further about the unsuitability of Ciara’s style of dress for a Chrechte.
    They found her father in the twins’ room, watching the little boys napping. There was an expression of such love on his features, Ciara’s own heart ached with it. Talorc of the Sinclairs, powerful Chrechte alpha and clan chieftain, insisted on putting his sons down for their nap with a story and soothing touch himself more days than not.
    His soldiers didn’t seem to find their training or duties any less rigorous for their laird’s short afternoon respites.
    He turned as soon as Ciara stepped into the room. She indicated the corridor with her head and he nodded, but she did not follow him out of the room immediately.
    First, she took a moment to place barely there kisses of farewell on her adopted brothers’ foreheads. She did not know how long this quest would keep her from the holding and she would miss them. She’d spent near as much time with them since their birth as Abigail and Talorc. How Ciara had deceived herself into believing she had no family to lose, she was not entirely sure.
    The needs of the heart made many things possible.
    She smiled mistily down at the boys and prayed for their safety while she was gone. Such sweet lads, but both prone to trouble if not watched more closely than a wounded boar. Brian slept sprawled, his cherubic face showing no sign of his mischievous nature when awake. Drost snuggled into the covers, his favorite wooden knife tucked against him like a doll.
    One day he would wield a sword like his father and probably be every bit as hard and uncompromising as the laird as well. These boys would be strong, but their strength would always be tempered by honor and compassion. Just as Talorc’s was, no matter how he might deny the latter.
    Her heart full, she crept quietly from the room andfollowed her father and Eirik down the stairs. They found Abigail and Guaire going over the records of the keep’s stores at the main table in the great hall.
    Abigail looked up with a smile for all of them, but her eyes were on Ciara when she said, “I am glad you came to say good-bye before leaving.”
    “I would have regardless,” Ciara promised. “But we have a question for, um…father.”
    Abigail’s smile became brighter and the laird’s pleasure could be felt in the air around them. So simple a thing, to use the words that had resided in her heart so long.
    She wanted to apologize, but both laird and lady’s expression revealed an understanding Ciara would never take for granted.
    Abigail made sure they were all seated at the table with watered wine before Talorc asked, “What is your question?”
    “I should have asked it this morning, but I am unaccustomed to speaking of my secrets.” It was not quite an admission of regret, but close enough. She hoped.
    “You will learn it is safe to share them with your family,” Abigail said softly. “I did.”
    The laird smiled at her, a silent message passing between them. “What is your question, daughter?” he asked Ciara.
    He’d called her daughter many times, but for today was the first time Ciara had allowed herself to accept the title fully. The word now caused a sweet pain inside her. “I possess a sword that Eirik believes belonged to one of the original Chrechte kings,” she said instead of asking about the luminous caves, surprising herself.
    And apparently the others at the table as Abigail gasped, Talorc cursed, Guaire said, “Now, that’s a treasure to protect,” and Talorc growled, swearing a second time. Guaire did not look worried and Ciara was pretty sure the human mate to her father’s second-in-command had nothing to worry about.
    “Niall…” her father snarled.
    “Has said nothing he ought not to,” Guaire said with the acerbity the seneschal had become known for. He might be almost half the size of his mate, but the man was nopushover. “But I live here. I see things. I know what he does not say, when he does his best to hide things from me. You might recall I was well aware of the import of