Enchanted Moon (Moon Magick Book II) by Amber Scott Read Free Book Online Page B

Instead, the stranger stood above her.
    “Hell’s
fury,” he said, staring at the fallen wolf, his chest heaving. “You clobbered
it.”
    Ailyn
got to her feet, not sure whether to be happy to see him, or to clobber him as
well. “I’m lucky to be alive, no thanks to you, and that’s all you have to
say?”
    He
gave her a withering look, adjusting Maera in his arms. “Are trouble and you
bedfellows, lass, or do I get to add ‘cursed’ to my list of attributes?”
    He
set off, stepping over the wolf with as much concern as he might give a tree
stump. Ailyn sheathed her dagger and followed, the glow of her narrow triumph
receding fast. The wolf was enormous. How she had managed to knock the animal
out she’d have to evaluate later, once life returned to some semblance of
normality.
    She
caught up with Quinlan and Maera. “Where are you taking her?” She dared not ask
him what had taken him so long. Because she’d then recall how foolish she’d
felt in thinking he’d lied to her. And feel shameful all over again that he
hadn’t.
    “The
O’Donnell tuath isna far.” He whistled and clucked his tongue, gaze darting.
    Ailyn
was reminded of her fellow guard calling his stallion. This world of mortals
was proving uncomfortably similar to her own. “You’ve a horse with you?”
    “Aye.
A true boon it would be if ye’d help me find him,
’ere my arms give out completely.”
    Her
gaze went to his arms. The muscles strained, bulging, making her belly quiver.
The banquet, Maera, the veil, the wolf. The chaos was showing its marks on her
awareness. The mere sight of a man’s arms shouldna affect her so. Neither
should the sight of his strained, muscled neck. She tore her gaze away,
searching for a horse.
    She
probably should have slain that wolf. Too late now. Ah, but if her brother
could see her now. Years’ worth of training, forgotten in the face of trouble.
First, going to the glade on her own, then allowing Maera to pass the veil.
Trusting a mortal who certainly would kill for her meager magick—which
was proving nonexistent here anyhow.
    The
mess she’d made. How would she ever begin to right so many wrongs? She could
start with returning her liege home. Safely. Without getting them both
slaughtered and in time to prevent a total collapse of the century-long,
four-tribe alliance.
    “I
ken you’ve had a rough go of it, Ailyn, but we’ll be needing our wits about us,
you and me, if we’re to make it away from that power.”
    Ailyn’s
cheeks heated over the dash of salt to her wounded pride. Were her ruminations
so transparent? She set her chin high and scanned the wood, treading with care
and in step with him. “Can you call it to you again?”
    The
hard look he gave her softened by degrees. He clucked and whistled again. His
arms shook with strain. A low, mournful howl sounded. His gaze shifted. “You
didn’t kill the wolf,” he said and laid Maera gently onto the ground. “It will
be coming for you.”
    “Coming
for me?” she sputtered. Aye, she should have slit its throat. Nothing to do but
right the mistake. She grabbed her dagger and strode to the wood.
    Quinlan
grabbed her arm. “There is no time. I know of a place where we can find cover,
but I’ll need your help, lass.”
    “Not
lass. Ailyn,” she said, too late realizing how petulant her correction must
seem, all events considered. “What do you need of me?”
    He
hesitated a moment. “Fine. Ailyn. If we’re to be familiar, call me Quinlan.
Keep watch for your wolf as I attempt a fool’s trick.”
    Ailyn
frowned but nodded all the same. A fool’s trick did not rouse much confidence.
Mankind had no magick left. She could actually feel just how little remained,
and he would ask the goddesses for a fool’s trick? She might be better off
carrying Maera herself.
    But
she had agreed, and setting off in this similar but foreign world might get her
killed all the same.
    One
thing did console her. Her sword arm had recovered enough from