Jan Delima - Celtic Moon

“Sarah,” Dylan greeted with a nod. “My family is going to stay with the children during the gathering.”

Her eyes briefly landed on Tucker with no outward reaction. “Understood,” she said with a tone of authority that proved her relaxed position was pretense. Sophie assumed this Sarah, with her cropped red hair, was yet another member of her husband’s guard.

Dylan opened the door, nodding toward Francine and Joshua to enter the cottage, holding Sophie behind with a gentle arm around her waist. He leaned down and dropped a kiss next to her temple. “If you see anything suspicious, send Sarah to get me.”

“I will,” she promised.

“I have to return to Rhuddin Hall.” Concern laced his voice.

“We’ll be fine,” she reassured him with a smile.

“Remember, our local cell towers have been disabled. Your phone is useless until the gathering is over.”

“Porter already told me.”

“Sarah will show you to the others.” He claimed her lips for one last gentle kiss. “This will be over soon.” And with a final nod in Sarah’s direction, he strode down the stairs toward his truck. On the drive over, he had given her and Joshua instructions on the safest route back to Rhuddin Hall from their current location, a secret passage she hadn’t been aware of.

His vigilance heightened her concern, and her annoyance upon discovering that he had only moved her to an even more protected location to wait out the gathering. But if staying confined with the children was what he needed from her, then so be it. While she had always loved Dylan, she hadn’t truly trusted him.

That needed to change. If he was willing to respect her decisions, then she needed to return the gesture. Furthermore, guarding the children was an important responsibility she didn’t accept lightly.

As soon as Dylan’s truck disappeared, Sarah sent a sidelong glare in Sophie’s direction, not hiding her displeasure. “Follow me.”

The occupants of the house, Sophie soon discovered, were stowed away in the basement. She paused at the bottom of the stairs as her eyesight adjusted to the dim lighting. Sarah silently resumed her post while Sophie’s family spilled around her.

“This room is depressing,” Francine muttered, and Joshua returned with a grunt of agreement.

“It’s safe,” Sophie reminded them. “That’s all that matters.”

There were metal doors on the far wall, locked from within in the event of a necessary escape. Overstuffed chairs and a padded carpet had been added for comfort, with a meager kitchen and a paneled single door she assumed was a bathroom. Still, it smelled stuffy, a combination of must and too many breathing bodies in a closed space. The adults in the room sat with subdued expressions.

Elen stood alone in the corner of the room while the others huddled in a group away from her. A genuine smile of gratitude brightened her face as she walked over to greet them. “I’m really glad you’ve decided to join us.”

Sophie gave her a hug, not sure why she extended such a personal greeting, only sensing that Elen needed it. “How long have you been here?”

Elen returned the hug with a grateful squeeze. “Since this morning.”

AS DYLAN HAD INSTRUCTED, THE LEADERS’ ARRIVALS began after sunset, their guards few but powerful. Some came from the woods, led by Luc and then released toward Rhuddin Hall under Porter’s guidance. Three of the leaders arrived in nondescript vehicles and were directed through the side entrance like villagers on a routine visit.

No disputes had yet to arise, Dylan mused with some suspicion. But the night was still young. For now, at least, all leaders and their companions appeared cooperative and prepared to listen, if not entirely thrilled.

Inwardly, he remained grateful his wife had agreed to go to the safe house. Her cooperation allowed him to focus his energy on the matter at hand as Porter escorted the visitors to their temporary quarters. For the most part, Luc kept to the forest with the other guards and watched for unwelcomed intruders, a monumental task considering the size of their territory.

All those he cared about were safe and accounted for, Dylan reminded himself. Nonetheless, he felt restless and ready to have this meeting concluded, relieved when the last leader finally arrived.

“Madoc,” Dylan greeted from the open door, biting back a smile as the massive man unfolded from a rented Prius, unaccompanied. “Don’t tell me you drove all the way from Montana in that thing?”

“Hell, no,” Madoc called back. “Only since Portland.”

“Did you come alone?”

“I do better alone,” he said, with the assurance of a man who had survived much worse than a gathering of wolves. “As I’m sure you remember.”

“I remember our journey all too well.”

Madoc was the notorious black knight turned pirate, his brooding features and brutal acts recounted—and distorted—by many storytellers and enemies alike. He was also the man insane enough to embark on an unknown journey without the consent of kings. He had captained the ship that had brought Dylan, Luc, and Elen to this land. Thankfully, Elen had been long removed from Merin’s influence by that time and helped soothe Luc on the voyage; the wolf had not taken well to sea travel.

Madoc whacked his forehead on the doorframe in the process of squeezing out of the small vehicle. “Damn . . . I feel like a fat woman trying to get out of a well-tied corset.”

“You’ve helped with that a few times, have you?” Dylan goaded.

“Indeed,” he chuckled, stretching as he stood with a loud groan. “Goddess knows I’d take one now. If you ask me, all these modern women look like starved boys.”

Dylan walked down the front entry. The light rain felt soothing as he held out his hand. “Thank you for coming.”

“This assembly is long overdue, old friend.” Madoc returned the greeting with a firm shake as his dark gaze spanned the forest and moved on to Katahdin. “Your territory is”—his nostrils flared as he inhaled the powerful scent of untamed nature—“abundant.”

“So is yours,” Dylan pointed out.

“I know.” Not a threat, or a boast, just a simple acknowledgment that they shared the same concern.

SOPHIE CHECKED HER WATCH. ALMOST MIDNIGHT. AND the children had yet to settle down. Eighteen hours confined in a basement had confused their routines and tried the patience of every adult in the room, except for Francine. Her mother snored softly in one of the overstuffed chairs, blissfully unaware, whereas the children were ready to climb the walls. For kicks and giggles, Sophie inwardly decided she might join them.

A squeal of delight came from Ella, a young girl with long golden braids, as Joshua agreed to give her yet another piggyback ride.

“One last time, Pixie Girl,” Joshua teased. “But only if you promise to take a nap afterward.”

Ella rocked forward, kicking her pudgy legs into his sides. “Promise.”

Ella’s mother sent Sophie an apologetic shrug. It was the first unguarded gesture of the evening, and Sophie smiled in return. The villagers had graciously welcomed Joshua around their children, but they had kept a guarded distance from Sophie and Elen. At first, she’d assumed Tucker made them nervous, but more often than not, their worried gazes turned to Elen.

As if sensing her restlessness, a petite woman with a mass of tangled brown hair approached, holding out her hand in greeting. “My name is Gwenfair.” She went on to explain, “Dylan told me you might be interested in teaching at our school. If that is indeed the case, I would appreciate your help.”