Blood Feud [COMPLETED]

CHAPTER ELEVEN ☽

Tara believed she was dreaming.

She thought so because she was wearily lounging with Ethne, half-listening to her friend discuss her horse-riding chafing when Erik appeared below her, fair hair tangled with leaves.

She understood the concept of danger. She realised the lunacy of his presence within the gates, walking amongst the mundane locations of Tara's life, the ramshackle stalls, armouries and markets of her Clann. Nightfall had crept in. The vacant lots below were sparsely lit by flickering torches, impressionable to the wind's wiles.

"No..."

By uttering the word, her body forced into action. She fought to maintain a steady calm, not to upset the weather she controlled and in turn alert those around her. With the slightest wrinkle of her nose a soft wind blew the torches out.

Brushing off Ethne, she left her attendants by muttering about menstruation, racing down the steps and out to Erik. Avoiding speculation on her way down the Keep by blowing out the torches nearby with a flick of her wrist.

Darkness gobbled her up. The few people within the market meandered to the back of their stalls to fish out their flint and restart the torches.

She found Erik before her eyes adjusted to the night. Her panic manifested into a desperate search, grabbing him roughly for a quick embrace.

He yelped. She rolled on her toes and, cupping her hand over his mouth, guided him gently towards a dark corner out of view.

Erik began to breathe something in her ear but she quietened him. The addition of his hot breath tingling the nape of her neck was too much. She could not make out the words, solely focussing on the warmth of his nearness. He smelled fresh and salty like the sea. Desire welled up, she wished to arch her ivory neck and let him trail kisses up it. Or nibble gently on her earlobe-

Now was not the time.

She interlaced her sweaty palm with his and waited for the two warriors on patrol to gander a safe distance away.

All day, Tara had been watching everyone's routines, unintentionally scouting their habits as a way to sneak past them later.

The guards receded out of view, rounding the corner to the south of the Keep. They would not loop back for some time.

Tara invoked another gust of wind, rushing the clouds over the moon, obscuring them. Shrouding all forms of lumination.

Now was their chance. She gripped him tightly and pulled him from behind the stall and out into open view, the hair on his head and his height as sure a sign as any that he was not Connacta.

Potters, dyers and other tradesmen milled about after a long labour but no guards and no one with enough energy to catch the couple dashing about. They kept to the long shadows and eventually, through the Keep's door.

She willed Ethne to remain on the roof, unperturbed by her abrupt departure. She willed the serving girls to be gossiping in the kitchens, far away from her daring escapades. She said a silent prayer to the Morrigan, the Dagda and her ancestors for safe passage to her private chambers.

And they listened.

The creaking floorboards never came in as handy as they did that night. The whereabouts of people ambling about prematurely announced by bending wood. Her overfamiliarity with the building's squeaking led them safely up each flight of stairs, trying in vain to keep her footwork light so as not to announce the presence of another body.

Her clammy hands fastened around the bronze door handle and pushed her way in, pulling Erik with her. She secured the door behind them both and let the lock fall heavy.