“That, my lady, may be beyond my skills.” His gaze shifted from her face. “My lord. Lady.”

With her hands still caught in Tynan’s, Moira turned to Cian and Glenna.

“A wet day for traveling,” Cian commented. “They’ll likely have a few troops posted along the way to give you some exercise.”

“So the men hope.” Tynan glanced over to where nearly a hundred men were saying goodbye to their families and sweethearts, then turned back so his eyes met Cian’s. “Are we ready?”

“You’re adequate.”

Before Moira could snap at the insult, Tynan roared out a laugh. “High praise from you,” he said and clasped hands with Cian. “Thank you for the hours, and the bruises.”

“Make good use of them. Slán leat.”

“Slán agat.” He shot Glenna a cocky grin as he mounted. “I’ll send your man back to you, my lady.”

“See that you do. Blessed be, Tynan.”

“In your name, Majesty,” he said to Moira, then wheeled his mount. “Fall in!”

Moira watched as the scattered men formed lines. And watched in the rain as her cousin Oran and two other officers rode out, leading her foot soldiers to the first league toward war.

“It begins,” she murmured. “May the gods watch over them.”

“Better,” Cian said, “if they watch over themselves.”

Still he stood as she did until the first battalion of Geall’s army was out of sight.

Chapter 8

G lenna frowned over her tea as, with Moira’s prodding, Cian related his interlude with Lilith. The three of them took the morning meal together, in private.

“Similar to what happened with Blair then, and with me back in New York. I’d hoped Hoyt and I had blocked that sort of thing.”

“Possibly you have, on humans,” he added. “Vampire to vampire is likely a different matter. Particularly—”

“When the one intruding is the sire,” Glenna finished. “Yes, I see. Still, there should be a way to shut her out.”

“It’s hardly worth your time and energies. It’s not a problem for me.”

“You say that now, but it upset you.”

He glanced at Moira. “Upset is a strong word. In any case, she left in what we’ll call a huff.”

“Something good came out of it,” Glenna continued. “For her to come to you, try to deal, she can’t be as confident as she’d like to be.”

“On the contrary, she believes, absolutely, that she’ll win. Her wizard’s shown her.”

“Midir? You said nothing of this last night.”

“It didn’t come up,” Cian said easily. In truth, he’d thought long and hard before deciding it should be told. “She claims he’s shown her victory, and in my opinion, she believes. Any losses we’ve dealt her thus far are of little importance to her. Momentary annoyances, slaps to the pride. Nothing more.”

“We make destiny with every turn, every choice.” Moira kept her eyes level with Cian’s. “This war isn’t won until it’s won, by her, by us. Her wizard tells her, shows her, what she wants to hear, wants to see.”

“I agree,” Glenna said. “How else would he keep his skin intact?”

“I won’t say you’re wrong, either of you.” With a careless shrug, Cian picked up a pear. “But that kind of absolute belief can be a dangerous weapon. Weapons can be turned against the one who holds them. The deeper we prick under her skin, the more reckless she might be.”

“Just what do we use for the needle?” Moira demanded.

“I’m working on that.”

“I’ve something that may work.” Glenna narrowed her eyes as she stirred her tea. “If her Midir can open the door for her to come into your head, Cian, I can open it, too. I wonder how Lilith would like a visit.”

Biting into the pear, Cian sat back. “Well now, aren’t you the clever girl?”

“Yes, I am. I’ll need you. Both of you. Why don’t we finish off breakfast with a nice little spell?”

I t wasn’t little, and it wasn’t nice. It took Glenna more than an hour to prepare her tools and ingredients.

She ground flourite, turquoise, set them aside. She gathered cornflower and holly, sprigs of thyme. She scribed candles of purple, of yellow. Then set the fire under her cauldron.

“These come from the earth, and now will mix in water.” She began to sprinkle her ingredients into the cauldron. For dreaming words, for sight, for memory. Moira, would you set the candles in a circle, around the cauldron?”

She continued to work as Moira set the candles. “I’ve actually been thinking about trying this since what happened with Blair. I’ve been working it out in my head how it might be done.”

“She’s hit you hard every time you’ve used magic to look into her bases,” Cian reminded her. “So be sure. I wouldn’t enjoy having Hoyt try to toss me off a cliff again because I let something happen to you.”

“It won’t be me—at least not front line.” She brushed her hair back as she looked over at him. “It’ll be you.”

“Well then, that’s perfect.”

“It’s risky, so you’re the one who has to be sure.”

“Well, it’s the guts and glory business, isn’t it?” He moved forward to peer into the cauldron. “And what will I be doing?”

“Observing, initially. If you choose to make contact... it’ll be up to you, and I’ll need your word that you’ll break it off if things get dicey. Otherwise, we’ll yank you back—and that won’t be pleasant. You’ll probably have the mother of all headaches, and a raging case of nausea.”

“What fun.”

“Fun’s just beginning.” She walked over, unlocked a small box. Then held up a small figure carved in wax.

Cian’s brows shot up. “A strong likeness. You are clever.”

“Sculpting’s not my strongest skill, but I can handle a poppet.” Glenna turned the figure of Lilith around so Moira could see. “I don’t generally make them—it’s intrusive, and dangerous to the party you’ve captured. But the harm-none rule doesn’t apply to undead. Present company excepted.”