Warrior, Opposed: Book One Of The Comhairle Chronicles

Epilogue - Look to the Future

Deòthas looked beautiful as she sat on a low stone wall which separated one part of the castle’s gardens from the other. Maybe the wall had once divided formal gardens from a kitchen garden, Tor didn’t know. He didn’t care either. His attention remained focused solely on the beautiful woman who stared up at the stars, moonlight reflecting in her opalescent eyes and turning her white-blonde hair into strands of pure silver. His name and her warrior tattoos contrasted starkly against her pale skin, but the black patterns didn’t detract from the ethereal quality which clung to his mate, marking her out as something more than bhampair.

Lowering himself onto the wall, Tor wrapped an arm around Deòthas, holding her close against his side as he told her, “I was wondering where you’d gotten to, mo ghaol. You’re not having last minute jitters, are you?”

“Of course not. I haven’t spent months listening to Seren and Caitrìona debate the best way to decorate the castle, and whether I’ve made the right or wrong dress selection, just to back out now. I’m marrying you tomorrow night, Tor. I promise.”

He smiled, kissing her hair as she rested her head against his shoulder.

“I know, I’m teasing,” he admitted. “But I still can’t believe you’re mine.”

Deòthas patted his thigh sympathetically. “I know, you poor sod. Some people have no luck, but apparently you’re stuck with me.”

“I think I’m the luckiest man alive,” he answered earnestly. “You’re everything I want. I love you.”

Her fingers meshed with his as she leaned into his side. “I love you too, more than I can say.”

He could hear the honesty in her words, but when she looked back up at the stars, he felt her tense before she asked, “Do you think Raghnall will move against us?”

The anxiety in the question angered Tor, so much so that his fangs shot down into his mouth, piercing his tongue. His instincts still screamed at him to find and destroy his old mentor, both to avenge what Raghnall had done to Deòthas and to prevent him ever hurting her again, but no one had seen him since he disappeared from the training facility. They hadn’t managed to track down who’d warned him to flee either.

“I don’t know. When Nate accessed Cailean’s phone there were messages between him and Raghnall, messages that talked about bringing down the Comhairle. Whether or not Raghnall has the guts or resources to make a move without Cailean, though, I have no idea. No one does. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. If we need to, we’ll fight and defeat him. Alright?

Deòthas nodded, although her tension didn't ease any. “I know... And the longer he stays underground, the better. It’s been an enjoyable respite, not having marionettes to kill on a nightly basis. Even if I am getting a bit bored with the quiet. I felt almost relieved when Tanc asked if we could do some more work with the trainees, try and get a few more through the trials while things are calm.”

“Almost? Why almost?” he asked, confused, wondering if she still feared the trainees reaction to her.

Blushing, Deòthas returned her gaze to his, breathing, “Having work to do means less alone time for us, rookie.”

He eased her from his side in response, then tugged her forward so she straddled his lap. Gripping her hips to keep her close, Tor relished the soft curves of her body against his, thinking how perfectly she fit against him. As he’d once said; she was incredible.

“I’m sure we’ll make time. Anyway, I’d like Eallair to learn from you. He’s desperate to take the trials and I don’t want to lose my friend. I can’t think of anyone I trust more to teach him what he needs to succeed. You’re an inspiration.”

“Well, you’re turning out alright, rookie,” she teased in response before kissing along his jaw.

He groaned, desire blooming, but Deòthas straightened, her mind apparently intent on racing from problem to problem.

“Do you mind... your family wanting nothing to do with the wedding, I mean?”

He didn’t hesitate to shake his head, telling her truthfully, “No, mo ghaol. They’ve chosen to be what they are, and I’ve chosen to be what and who I am. Tomorrow will be all the more perfect for their absence. Lack of civilians means we can hold the ceremony here, at the compound. We’ll be amongst the family we’ve chosen. I’ll be marrying my mate, the only woman I’ll ever love. That’s all I need.”

“Anyway,” he breathed gently. “My father and the other nobles continue to have their meetings and blame us for the abductions. They continue to hold us accountable because they weren’t assigned guards, with no thought to who rescued them from probable sacrifice. It’s a relief to distance myself from their flawed agenda and slanderous propaganda. Honest. The nobles can go to ifrinn for all I care, my family included. The life I want is here. Everything that matters to me is here, and will still be here tomorrow.”

Relaxing against him, Deòthas rested her head on his shoulder again.

“I hope I can always give you everything you need.”

“You will,” he promised, knowing more anxiety lingered behind her statement than she’d put into words. He wasn’t sure she’d ever come to terms with the shadow of her infertility, even though he spoke the truth when he claimed she was all he needed.

For a few moments Deòthas fell silent again, then she changed topic.

“The sun will rise soon, take me to bed, Tor.”

“Gladly, mo ghaol.”

He stood, keeping his mate clutched against his chest as he strode back towards the castle.

THE END