“What is it, Maev?”

The centaur’s eyes widened and she coughed, raining scarlet down her chest. “It-it’s come here. The darkness…the claws and teeth in the darkness.”

“Maev, I don’t understand.”

The Huntress gripped Aine’s wrist. “Don’t let my pyre be built here, or inside the walls of that tainted castle. Send me to Epona from the forest of Partholon.”

“You’re not going to die,” Aine lied. “Rest now.”

“Promise me!”

“Yes, of course, I promise.” She soothed. “What did this to you, Maev?”

“The warriors know! They know.”

“About what?”

“Fomorians.” Maev spoke the name and then, as if the dreaded word had taken her soul with it, her eyes went wide and blank, and the Huntress died.

“You said a boar did this?” Numbly, Aine watched the warriors put Maev’s body on the stretcher and carry her back to the castle.

Edan nodded. “Urien found the tracks of the beast not far down the pass. He said there were signs of a great battle between it and the Huntress.”

Deep in thought, Aine followed the warriors and their bloody burden. Guardian Castle ’s Lord and Chieftain of Clan Monro met them at the rear gate.

“It is the Huntress,” he sighed wearily and shook his head. “She was too young and inexperienced to tangle with a wounded boar.”

“Those gashes don’t look like any boar goring I’ve ever seen,” Aine heard herself saying.

The Monro’s sharp eyes locked on her. “Aine, is it? Our new Healer?”

She nodded. “Yes, my Lord.” Aine had been presented to the Chieftain when she’d arrived, but their paths had rarely crossed since. Actually, this was the first opportunity she’d had to study the Monro closely and she was surprised by how gaunt and unhealthy he appeared. A wasting sickness…The thought had her pitying him. Until he spoke again.

“How many boar wounds have you tended?” His words were thick with sarcasm. “You couldn’t save the centaur, could you?”

“No,” she said softly. “I couldn’t.”

“It appears you’re as young and inexperienced as she was. See that you come to a better end. Perhaps you should begin by leaving the details of hunting and such to those who are older and wiser.” He turned his back on her and spoke to the warriors. “Send a runner to notify her herd, and then build a pyre near the burial mounds within the east wall. We will fire it on the morrow.”

Aine drew a deep, fortifying breath and stepped in front of the Chieftain. “That’s not what she wanted.”

The Monro raised his brows at her. “Indeed?”

“Yes, my Lord, Maev asked that her pyre be built out there.” Aine pointed towards the distant forest that spread south of the castle and marked the beginning of Partholon.

The Monro snorted. “Partholon is also within the walls of this castle.”

Aine countered with, “She was a Huntress. She deserves to be sent to Epona from the forest.”

The Monro shrugged. “It matters naught to me, but if it means so much to you, Healer, then you see to it. I’ll not interfere.”

It took the entire next day for Aine to prepare Maev’s pyre. The Monro had been true to his word. He hadn’t interfered with her. He also hadn’t ordered any of the warriors to help her. At least Edan had aided her in loading and then unloading the cart with boughs for the fire. He’d also gathered enough warriors to carry Maev’s body to the bier.

They hadn’t liked that she’d picked a spot in the middle of a clearing that was quite a ways from the castle. Aine hadn’t cared. She’d known Maev would have wanted to be far enough away so that the gloomy walls wouldn’t be visible above the pines.

It was almost dusk when everything was ready. Aine faced the south-the direction of Partholon and the Centaur Plains beyond. She was nervous. A Shaman should be doing this, but there was no Shaman living at Guardian Castle and the taciturn warriors who stood restlessly beside her certainly weren’t going to evoke the Goddess’s blessing.

“Epona, centaur Huntress Maev of the Hagan Herd, was my friend. We laughed together a lot, even when things felt really grim. She died too soon and I’ll miss her. I ask that you welcome her to your verdant meadows so that her spirit will gallop free by your side for eternity.” She touched the torch to the pyre. With a whoosh the oil-soaked boughs caught fire.

Well done, daughter.

Aine jumped and gasped when the Goddess’s sweet voice drifted through her mind.

And now prepare yourself, my child. I have need of you.

“Aine, won’t you return with us?” Edan asked, hanging back when the other warriors headed back to the castle almost immediately.

“N-no,” she stuttered, running a shaky hand over her forehead. Had she really heard Epona’s voice? “I’m going to stay with Maev for a little while.”

“It’s not safe in the forest after dark, so you don’t have much time. I’ll leave the horse and cart for you,” he said.

Aine nodded absently, paying little attention when he left. All of her concentration was focused internally. “Epona?” she whispered, feeling foolish.

Listen, daughter. One who needs you is near.

Aine’s body trembled with excitement. The Goddess was speaking to her! Holding her breath, she listened.

A low, painful moan seemed to drift on the cool night air, mixing with the scent of death and smoke and pine. Aine turned into the breeze and followed her Goddess’s urging.

The panting sounds of pain weren’t hard to track. Aine was amazed that she and the warriors hadn’t heard them earlier. She’d walked only a few feet into the surrounding pines when she came to the gully. What she saw at the bottom of the trench in the earth had her freezing with shock and disbelief.

The winged creature lay crumpled on the ground, its leg caught gruesomely in an iron trap so large it must have been set for the vicious brown bears that liked to lurk close to the castle.

It is your choice, daughter, whether you aid him or not.

“But he’s a Fomorian!” Aine said.

Epona didn’t respond, and Aine could feel that the Goddess’s presence had left her. At the sound of her voice the creature’s head snapped up. With eyes glassy with shock and pain he stared at her.

“Are you a goddess or a spirit?”

His voice was a surprise. It was deep and beautiful, almost musical in quality. And he sounded frightened.

“I’m neither,” she replied. Then she pressed her lips together, thinking that it was madness that she was speaking to him, to it, instead of running screaming for the warriors.

“You look like a goddess,” he said.

Then he smiled and even as Aine cringed back from his fangs that glistened in the dying light, she felt drawn to the unexpected gentleness in his eyes that so perfectly matched his expressive voice.

“You’re a Fomorian,” Aine said, as if to remind herself.

“And you’re a goddess.”

“Fomorians are demons!” she blurted. “What could you know about goddesses?”

“Some of us know of Epona. Some of us…” he trailed off, sucking in his breath as a spasm of pain shot through him.

Responding automatically to his pain, Aine was halfway down the gully before she realized she’d moved. The Fomorian had closed his eyes to ride out the wave of agony. His forehead was pressed to the ground and he was breathing in shallow, panting gasps. Just like any man in terrible pain, she thought.

Then his wings, which had been tucked along his back rustled in restless agitation and she stumbled to a halt mere feet from him, eyes riveted on those dark pinions. They weren’t made of feathers, but seemed to be a soft membrane, lighter on bottom than top. They were huge, and they proved what he was-what he must be. A demon.

This was what killed Maev! The knowledge rushed through her mind and she stumbled back.