Chapter Nineteen
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Gawain had spent the day forging new blades for the cahirs’ incoming students, but halted early to clean up at the lodge. Breanne was hosting a dinner party for the cahirs and their families to give Darcy a chance to meet everyone. Apparently, a couple of days ago at a creekside picnic, Darcy had mentioned she didn’t know Ben and Ryder.
Gawain pulled on clean clothes, a better shirt than his usual white smithing ones and jeans.
No clothes on the floor meant Owen hadn’t yet returned from dragging Darcy out for a quick hunt. Undoubtedly, they’d be back soon.
As Gawain headed down the stairs, amazing aromas were coming from the kitchen. His stomach rumbled.
In the kitchen, Bree was pouring a liquid over a huge roast in the oven.
Hoping to score some food, Gawain asked, “Can I help with anything?”
She closed the oven door and smiled at him. “Not in here. I have everything timed and choreographed. But…”
“What?”
“Well, with the danger from the Scythe, Zeb ordered me to keep the door locked all the time. But I need to be in here. Could you possibly be the doorman?”
“Sure. Not a problem. I’m an excellent butler.”
Obviously knowing males, she handed him a handful of tiny muffins that smelled of sausage and cheese.
“You’re a fine female, Breanne.” He popped one muffin in his mouth and heard himself start to purr. Two more disappeared. Then all.
“Here. Go play butler.” Grinning, she handed him a beer and waved him out of her domain.
Sipping his drink, Gawain settled into a chair near the front door. As he thought of his day and the evening to come with Owen, Darcy, and new friends, contentment was a warm glow in his belly. Cold Creek was a fine town, much more to his taste than Pine Knoll.
Maybe because the ratio of shifters to humans was nicely balanced. The humans kept the shifters aware…at least somewhat…of the outside, modern world. In turn, the Daonain reminded humans there was more to life than money and power.
In another few days, he and Owen would move into their house. Gawain stroked his beard and smiled. Being around his littermate had brought him more satisfaction and…rightness…than he’d felt since they’d parted so long ago. Although the breaking of the bond when Edwyn died had hurt, Owen’s departure had been far more painful. Thank the Gods, they were together again.
Then there was Darcy. Gawain wrinkled his brow. The little minx had been avoiding them. At a guess, she was worried about her villagers. She might feel her life was too unsettled to start a new relationship.
Of course, being as she was female and he was male, his guesses as to her reasoning could be completely off the path. The catling needed to share her worries rather than him and Owen trying to guess.
But…she concealed her fears from them. Maybe because the Scythe had isolated the captives, and she’d never learned to share? Or because she was an independent little tinker and a strong female?
Owen wasn’t any better about sharing. Gawain grinned. People teased the cahir about being quiet, grumpy if annoyed, and blunt as any dwarf—yet he had a lot of good friends. As he should. He was strong, brave, honest, and—even if he tried to hide it—incredibly kind.
Darcy had seen through all of Owen’s bluster to the good male beneath. She liked Gawain, too. Gawain nodded. Truly, she cared for them both.
They needed to discuss those worries of hers. It was time to take the next step to starting a relationship, because, once the villagers were rescued, she was liable to up and leave. He was damned if he’d let that happen. She needed to see they wanted her. He’d have to make sure Owen was ready to run that trail at a fast pace.
The three notes of the doorbell interrupted his planning. Time to be the lodge butler.
Gawain crossed the reception area and opened the door.
An older female stood there. She had the palest of blonde hair and brown eyes.
Gawain’s gut muscles flinched as if he’d been stabbed. “Mother.”
“I found you.” Shoving the door farther open, she stalked past him, every inch the annoyed cat. “Why are you here in this scatty town?”
Automatically, Gawain checked the room for breakables that he might need to protect; the lodge was well cubling-proofed—or in this case, angry-Mother-proofed. He could tell from the shrill edge in her voice, she was gearing up for an ugly fight.
The bottom of his stomach slid greasily downward. “I live here,” he said shortly.
“No, you don’t. You live in Pine Knoll.”
“Not any longer. I moved here.”
“But…” Her pale white hands clasped together over her heavy breasts. Over the last decade or so, she’d begun to visibly age. Harsh lines of discontent were graven beside her mouth and eyes. Although she’d once been an attractive female, a mean spirit would eventually blight even the most beautiful surface.
She took a step toward him. “But, Gawain, you’re my cub. I need you. I need your help.”
“No, you don’t. You’re a healthy adult. Other adult shifters live on their own.” Only…she was getting older. He hesitated.
She could spot her prey’s weaknesses faster than a pack of wolves, and she never hesitated to take advantage. “Oh, Gawain, I’m out of money, and I don’t know what to do.” Tears brimmed in her brown eyes. “Edwyn would have looked after me, but he’s gone. You’re all I have left.”
Out of four cubs? Not hardly.
But he certainly wouldn’t mention Bonnie, not after the eternity he’d spent in Pine Knoll to ensure his sister was free.
And Mother still hated Owen.
What would she do without Gawain at her beck and call? Whenever she was without one of the numerous males she picked up and discarded, she’d use him for chores, repairs, money, and even emotional support. And if he tried to set boundaries on her use of his time, she’d descend into hysterics in the most public places possible.
The twenty-five years of being her “cub” had taken their toll. Now Bonnie was safe, and he needed to escape before his spirit turned bitter and sour. He probably should have traveled to the far end of the continent to get out of her reach, but the lure of his littermates had caught him.
And now she’d found him.
As she started sobbing louder, Gawain looked at her and felt…nothing. Not hatred, not warmth. Not even a sense of duty remained.
Instead, his first thought was for his littermate. He needed to get her out of here before she saw Owen. Don’t return to the lodge yet, Owen. Stay away.
Unfortunately, if she didn’t get what she wanted, she’d refuse to leave. She’d persist—clinging and crying, talking and talking. Her infantile behavior would escalate until she’d start throwing whatever she could get her hands on.
He sighed. “How much money do you need?”
With Darcy beside him, Owen finished dressing in the side room and headed down the hall.
Still in an exhilarant mood, Darcy was dancing, although on feet now rather than paws.
Smiling slightly, he slung an arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. “You did good, little cat.”
Her snort held both delight at his compliment—and exasperation. Her pointy elbow jabbed into his ribs. “Don’t call me little.”
“Ah, right. I forgot.” He grinned down into her dark eyes. Fuck, she was beautiful. Her cheeks had rounded out, and her skin glowed with health. Her lips were full, the lower one tempting a male to nibble on the plumpness.
Undoubtedly catching his interested scent, she stumbled slightly, and to his delight, he caught a whiff of her own interest. To see what she’d do, he lifted her arm and blatantly sniffed her wrist. Oh, yeah. The scent there not only roused him, but the knowledge that she wanted him made his own feet want to dance.
He cleared his throat. Not the time, Treharn. “If you don’t like the word little, I could call you tiny. Tiny tinker?”
Her dainty hiss reminded him of Mrs. Henderson’s Persian. Yep, little cat was the right term for her.
He tugged a lock of her wavy hair in reprimand. “Did you just hiss at your mentor?” He’d never teased a female before this one. Odd how much fun it was.
“Oh, no.” She widened eyes as filled with mischief as a passel of pixies. “I would never. Truly. I know better than to disrespect someone of your venerable age.”
His jaw dropped. The kitten had just called him old? Old? “You are in so much—”
Giggling, she darted down the hallway, around the back of the stairs, and into the main room of the lodge.
At a more leisurely pace, he followed. If Zeb was around, he’d hand her back. Shay or Gawain would enjoy teasing her—or him—but eventually, Owen would have his hands on her again. What could he do to make her eat that insult?
As he rounded the corner, a scent froze his feet to the ground. Loathing filled him.
His mother stood in front of Gawain, accepting a fistful of bills.
Laughter gone, Darcy was within a few feet of them and backing toward the stairs.
Owen couldn’t move. He hadn’t seen Mother since the day in the Pine Knoll restaurant when she’d been loudly sobbing about her cub being dead. An exasperated customer reminded her she had three remaining cubs—and unfortunately, pointed at Owen who’d just entered the restaurant. By the God, he’d never seen such hysterics in his life.
For twenty-five years, he’d not thought of her. And he’d believed Gawain loved her. His littermate had stayed in Pine Knoll, after all.
Owen might have been wrong.
His littermate’s emotions were as easy to read as a fresh-cut trail. Gawain was angry. Frustrated. And almost despairing. Despite his need to protect Gawain, Owen knew any intervention would only lead to a foulmouthed scene, punctuated by screams and wails. Ear-splitting hysterics were Mother’s specialty.
He and Gawain were guests in this lodge; fouling the wolves’ den with their mother’s howling would be wrong.
Owen started to retreat the way he’d come.
The movement caught Gawain’s attention.
Mother noted his gaze, spotted Owen, and hatred filled her face. “You. You’re still alive.” She pointed at Owen as if she’d gladly stab him through the heart with her finger. “You’re the reason my baby, my Edwyn, is dead. You’re more evil than any hellhound.”
He was an adult now, full-grown, and still…something in him wanted to curl into a miserable ball like a cubling. Even knowing she wouldn’t listen, he still protested. “I had nothing to do with Edwyn’s death. I didn’t see him that night.”
“You lie! I know you yelled at him. Called him names. You’re why Phoebe rejected him. Why he drove his new car too fast and crashed it.” Her voice shook. “You killed him as surely as if you’d bit his throat out.”
No reasoning with her. Owen shook his head, barely managing to mutter the words. “I don’t lie. Wasn’t there.”
“You were. Murderer.” She launched herself across the room, striking Owen with fists and slaps.
He turned his head and backed away, and she followed…as she always had. He’d never hit her back—she was female.
“This is bullshit. Stop right now.” Darcy grabbed his mother’s arm—and hair—and slung her into a chair.
“You dare! You—”
With a wolverine’s ferocity, Darcy hissed and raised her fist. “Owen might not hit a female, but I certainly will.” Darcy’s voice was a low growl. The little female was under complete control, despite her anger.
His mother burst into pitiful weeping. “You don’t understand. He killed my son.”
“I very much doubt it. Owen doesn’t lie.” The certainty in Darcy’s voice was a balm over burning welts.
Still—he needed to leave, or Mother would continue ratcheting up the hysterics. He glanced at Gawain.
Snowfall pale, his littermate hadn’t moved.
Owen took a step forward. “Brawd?”
Gawain’s haunted eyes met his. “She blames you. I didn’t know she still did. Owen, I swear, I would have dealt with it.”
What the fuck? He shrugged. “She’s always blamed me for everything. No matter.”
“It does matter.” Gawain straightened his shoulders. “Mother, listen to me.”
Their mother continued to sob, but…the volume decreased. She was listening.
Gawain took a step toward her. “That night, Edwyn had boasted to Phoebe about stealing. I was the one who called Edwyn names, not Owen. I was the one who yelled at him, knocked him down, and took his stolen goods away. He busted out bawling. Phoebe was disgusted with him and walked away.”
Owen stared. He’d always thought—blamed—the female for the fight and goading Edwyn into recklessness. Gawain had fought with him and blamed himself for Edwyn’s death?
“No. You’re wrong.” Mother shook her head. “My Edwyn would never steal. He was perfect.”
Owen barely managed to prevent a snort.
“Your Edwyn went into a dwarf’s cave and stole his hoard.”
“He what?” Owen stared.
“Yeah. I was so pissed-off, I lost my temper.” Looking ill, Gawain rubbed the back of his neck. “I took the bag away from him and left it at the dwarf’s door. But, considering Edwyn had a brand-new fancy Jeep, he’d already spent a good chunk of the gold, so I had to make it up out of my own savings.”
Edwyn stole from a dwarf. Owen shook his head. Nothing was more important to a dwarf than his hoard; females chose their mates depending on the amount of gold. “Edwyn could have started a…a fucking war.”
“My Edwyn wouldn’t steal. It was you; I know it. You’re nothing—just demon-spawn.” Mother pushed herself up, spittle flying from her mouth. “You should have been the one who died. I—”
“Oh, honestly.” Darcy shoved her back in the chair.
Gawain’s face turned implacable. “I’m done. Done being a dutiful son, done giving you money. We are finished. Don’t ever come near me again.”
Darcy turned and put her arm around Gawain’s waist, and comfort flowed almost visibly from her.
“You don’t mean it.” Their mother stood. “He’s turned you against me.”
Footsteps came from the rear, and then Zeb and Shay moved to either side of Owen. Panting, Breanne leaned on a wall. She must have heard the yelling and run to fetch her mates.
Shay set a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “What’s going on here, cahir?”
“My mother is leaving,” Owen said.
She didn’t move, but stared at the cahirs on either side of him. After a second, her gaze focused on the blue scar on Owen’s cheek, and her mouth dropped open. “You’re a cahir? God-called? You?”
“Darcy, if you don’t hit her, I will.” Vicki stood in the front doorway, one hand on her belly, the other in a fist. “Get her the fuck out of here.”
Alec and Calum stood behind her—and Alec chuckled.
His mother gave Vicki a frozen stare. “My cub…cubs…are here, and they owe me. You can’t talk to me that way.”
“I do believe she just did.” Calum moved Vicki back and behind him. Expression deadly, he examined Owen’s mother as if he’d found a gnome in the butter. He glanced at Alec. “Is the human influence destroying our race’s maternal instincts? No animal would behave so cruelly to a cub.”
“You disgusting piece of…” Mother’s voice faded at the increased shimmer of power around Calum. Belatedly, she realized she’d spoken to the Cosantir of the territory.
“You have no cubs here. Leave my territory and do not return.” His gaze darkened…and he snapped his fingers.
Owen felt a pinging ripping sensation deep within his ribcage. The tattered bond between dam and cub had been severed.
With a shocked inhalation, Gawain put a hand to his chest and stared at Calum.
Gasping, their mother staggered backward a step, two, then fled out of the room…not dropping any of the money. The door of the lodge slammed shut.
For a moment, silence reigned, and then Darcy hugged Owen. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but that woman is a disgusting butthole.”
The open sympathy, the anger on his behalf, and having the little female in his arms, not for mating, but purely to give comfort, filled the empty hole in his heart to overflowing.
And she’d called him sweetie.
When Gawain put his arms around both of them, Owen’s knotted muscles relaxed.
Gawain chuckled. “Ah…butthole?”
Alec laughed. “Ever noticed how some human-raised females possess rather…earthy…vocabularies?”
“No, but I’m looking forward to learning more.” Owen kissed the top of Darcy’s head. When he met Gawain’s gaze, he saw the same sentiment.
This was a female to cherish.
Gawain and Owen were hugging her. Darcy wasn’t sure how it had happened, but she let herself sink into the pleasure. She rubbed her cheek against Gawain’s chest, breathed in his summer meadow scent, and turned to press her forehead against Owen’s shoulder. Dark and woodsy. The masculine fragrances mingled together and she snuggled closer, feeling like a kitten in fresh grass.
Can’t stand here and hug the males all night. Reluctantly, Darcy looked up at Owen. His gaze was on the door.
What a ghastly, manipulative, foul-mouthed evil excuse for a mother. And Owen had lived with her until his teen years?
No wonder you hate females. Someone should have slapped her spitless years ago.
When the room went completely silent, Darcy realized she’d spoken out loud. She clapped her hands over her mouth—way, way, way too late—and stared up at Owen.
His eyes narrowed…and then his lips twitched.
Gawain burst out laughing, followed by everyone else.
Owen actually grinned. “You’ve got a cat’s own temper, don’t you?” He gave her hair a tug. “Thanks for the defense, tiny tinker.”
“I like our tinker.” Alec gave Calum a friendly punch on the arm. “Brawd, you’re getting faster at bond-snapping.”
Looking exhausted, Calum gave his littermate a cold look—and Alec only laughed.
“Bonnie,” Owen whispered.
Gawain froze, his expression dismayed.
Calum nodded. “Indeed. She will have felt the bond break.” He turned to Alec. “Brawd, can you check in with her and ensure she’s all right?”
“Aye.” Alec squeezed the Cosantir’s shoulder. “I’ll explain. From what little she’s said about her mother, she’ll be more than relieved to be free of her.”
Owen’s shoulders slumped. “Thank you, Cosantir. Alec.”
“What is bond-snapping?” Darcy whispered to Gawain.
“I don’t know what the Cosantir has done in the past, but”—he splayed his fingers over his chest—“the bond between me and our mother is cut.” His expression seemed torn between sorrow and relief.
Darcy reached up and kissed his cheek before checking Owen. How odd—and sad. His face showed the same two emotions. In spite of the way the horrible woman had treated him, he’d still viewed her as his mother.
She hugged him again. Then frowned. “Calum did this before?”
“Yeah, with Minette’s mother, Genevieve,” Owen answered.
Darcy frowned. “No, Minette is Emma’s cub.”
Owen clarified, “Genevieve and Ryder had Minette, but the cub now belongs to Ryder, Emma, and Ben.”
Oh. And the Cosantir had broken Minette’s mother-cub bond? “I guess her mother was…”
“Abusive as hell.” Owen glanced at Calum. “Calum, about—”
“I’m sorry.” The Cosantir’s face tightened. “Severing of the bond wasn’t my decision.”
Not his decision? After a second, Darcy understood. Herne worked through his Cosantirs, apparently sometimes without permission, leaving them with the guilt. Being God-chosen sure wasn’t for the weak, was it?
Owen pulled in a slow breath and then shook his head. “Cosantir…Calum…losing the bond was a shock, but also a relief. You have my”—he glanced at Gawain and got a nod—“our thanks.”
Calum’s expression eased.
Owen’s lips curved slightly. “Actually, what I was asking is what happened to Minette’s blood mother? What if Genevieve has more cubs to mistreat?”
“Word has been passed out to the other Cosantirs. Most females only bear one litter, but if for some reason she is gifted another, she won’t be permitted to keep them.”
“Good to know. Thank you.” Owen glanced at Gawain. “A shame someone didn’t remove us when we were cublings, too.”
Gawain inclined his head in agreement before a frown appeared on his face. “Maybe. Our lives would have been easier, but…would we be the same people? Lacking a mother’s love changed me, made me more open to the blessings of the Mother of All. And you—I saw how your desire to guard the weak grew stronger as you got older. Strong enough for the God to call you.”
Owen’s face went blank.
Darcy nodded. She’d seen the compulsion in the big cahir, his need to protect everyone in his path. Her gaze met Calum’s and she saw the Cosantir had heard Gawain. His nod confirmed what the mage had said.
The pain of their childhoods had forged the two brothers into strong tools that could be wielded by the Gods.
She pulled in a breath, hoping the last ghastly decade had shaped her into someone strong and worthy of the pain.
“All right, people,” Bree announced in a loud voice. “Dinner will be delayed for an hour. Everyone—the chef included—needs a strong drink. Let’s gather around the fire pit and enjoy the quiet evening.”
Shay’s laugh boomed out. “Aye, and you have the right of it, a leannán. Brawd, if you light us a fire out there, I’ll break out the alcohol.”
As drinks were being poured, Darcy retrieved her coat and slipped outside. In the fire pit, a newly lit fire crackled in the dry wood. As she dropped into one of wooden chairs across from the stone bench, a swirl of sparks announced a salamander’s arrival. The fire elementals adored dancing outside.
Twinkling in the firelight, a few snowflakes drifted down from the black sky. There would be more snow before morning. Darcy pulled in a deep breath, pleased that the icy air off the mountains held no stench of rancor. The last few minutes had been, as the human captives would say, intense. Poor Owen and Gawain.
“I hear we missed some drama.” Emma walked across the patio and settled onto the curving built-in stone bench across from Darcy. Ben, the huge cahir, sat at his mate’s left and gave Darcy a smile. A strange male sat down on the bard’s right.
“Did Minette come?” Darcy asked hopefully. The tiny girl was cuter than any pixie and adorably smart.
“No, we dropped her off to have a sleepover with Angie’s grandcubs.” Emma smiled and patted the stranger’s arm. “Darcy, this is Ryder, my lifemate. He works with Ben in the construction business.”
Ryder had skin darker than Darcy’s, black hair to just below his shoulders, and dark brown eyes. Although tall, he was leanly muscular instead of having the massiveness of his grizzly littermate. He gave her a reserved look. “Good to meet you.”
“And you.” Darcy smiled. “You have a wonderful cub.”
The way his eyes lit with pleased pride changed him from a darkly dangerous male to a proud sire—and she could see why Emma had fallen for him.
“There she is.” Owen sat down beside Darcy.
Gawain took a chair on the other side and handed her a mug. “Vicki said you were sampling various drinks. Have some hot chocolate and Bailey’s Irish Cream.”
“Oh, fun.” She took a sip and smiled. The alcohol tasted like ice cream. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”
Owen gave her a stern look. “Just remember it’ll impair your judgment. No driving cars—or running around in shifter form.”
“Yes, daddy.”
Gawain let out a hearty laugh, but Owen growled under his breath, curved his hand around her neck in a ruthless grip, and pulled her closer to him.
Uh-oh. She gazed up into aggravated green eyes. “Um…”
He rubbed his lips over hers gently and said softly, “You have a mouth on you, little cat. Good thing it’s so kissable.”
“What?” Her eyes narrowed.
Walking past, Vicki stopped in her tracks. “Now there’s a man who needs his clock cleaned. Need help, Darcy?”
“Tempting, but I think I’ll just set his washing machine to flood his house…and all that new flooring.”
As Vicki grinned, Gawain sputtered. “Now wait, tinker. I’ll be living there, too.”
Despite the stern set of Owen’s jaw, laughter danced in his eyes. “I’ll have to watch my words.” When he picked up her hand and kissed her fingertips, her mouth dropped open. Owen was never affectionate. “Are you going to forgive me?” he asked.
“Well, of—” She stopped and frowned. “Maybe when I get an actual apology.”
“Fuck, you’re smart.” His rough chuckle stroked over her almost like the caress of his callused hands. “I look forward to watching you and Gawain play chess.”
“What? I haven’t played chess since I was twelve.” Her lips curved. “Although I did usually win.”
Gawain looked at her with keen interest. “Challenge accepted,” he said promptly.
“I didn’t…” She glared. “The two of you are scary when you team up.”
The exchange of satisfied glances between them was…delightful, actually. Since she’d met them, their relationship had changed, evened out, until they now moved together better than a well-tuned engine.
Although it might be better if they didn’t collaborate to pick on her. She’d have to check out their new home and see what appliances could be sabotaged.
More voices added to the conversational hum. Alec, Shay, and Bree settled down on the stone bench near Vicki, leaving a space for Calum.
“Bonnie?” Owen asked Alec. “Is she all right?”
“My dispatcher is a tough female.” Alec smiled slowly. “She was shaken, but after I told her what happened tonight—and let her know you two were all right—she decided she was more pleased than not.”
Owen and Gawain let out relieved breaths.
Wakened by the noise, the resident pixie chirred in annoyance from the tall spruce. A couple of twigs were tossed out.
Shay chuckled. “Now you know why we put the fire pit on this side of the patio.”
The pixie clicked her fingernails at him rudely before disappearing into her hole.
The door from the dining area opened, and Calum and Zeb walked out. As Calum took a seat beside Vicki, Zeb leaned a hip on the stone wall beside Breanne. The frown on the Cosantir’s face made Darcy sit up straighter.
Alec studied his littermate. “Problems, brawd?”
“Tynan called. He’s narrowing down the possible locations of the Seattle prison.”
Darcy caught her breath.
Calum regarded her. “When we find the captives, we’ll act, Darcy. The cahirs—all of them—have requested they be permitted to rescue the females. Other males here also asked.”
Alec snorted. “Thorson demanded, actually.”
“We’ll get your villagers free,” Calum said gently.
Her hand closed around Gawain’s. Help. The Cosantir was offering help. She swallowed. “I’ll probably have to be the one to contact the shifter-soldiers, or they won’t believe you. I can do that.”
“Perhaps. We’ll make plans when we know what we’re up against.” His gaze met hers and the depth of understanding there made her eyes burn. “Whatever happens, you won’t have to return to the prison, Darcy.”
How had he known her deepest fear? How had he known? She pulled in a shuddering breath. In so many of her nightmares, she was back there. Helpless. Her voice came out a whisper. “Thank you.” Owen stroked her shoulders, and she could sense his courage pouring into her. “It’s all felt so…hopeless, sometimes.”
“Not hopeless.” Vicki shook her head. “Wells stuck a tracker on the Scythe van that came to Cold Creek. Their operatives killed the device within a day, but it gave Wells a start. He’s been working his way up the ladder, uncovering people, funding, and locations. There’s no one better at digging out information.”
“Mmmhmm. I’m sure he’s looking hard for traitors to the United States.” Maybe not so much for the kidnappers of the Daonain. Darcy couldn’t keep the flatness from her tone. The spymaster had his priorities—and they wouldn’t include Daonain hostages and soldiers.
“Well, fuck, you’re almost as cynical as I am.” Vicki grinned. “Wells knows the dangers of having the Daonain exposed to humans—if nothing else, it’d be really difficult to be a godfather to a baby in a science lab, right?” She patted her stomach. “He’s in Seattle right now, concentrating on locating your villagers.”
“Really?” Darcy swallowed. “Th-thank you. I’ve been so frustrated with not being able to help.”
Owen and Gawain exchanged glances.
“With your permission, Cosantir,” Owen said. “Gawain and I will take Darcy with us when we go scouting tomorrow. And we’ll stay out there until we locate that damn camp.”
The Cosantir steepled his fingers, considered, and nodded. “Aye, cahir. Go find the camp.”