Moon Burning Read Online Free PDF

she was and Barr called her his guest. This elicited curious stares, which Muin clearly intended to satisfy as he joined the soldiers by the fire.
    Barr did not seem to care as he continued across the vast room, around the tables and toward a staircase.
    Stepping onto the first riser, he bellowed, “Verica!”
    And then he took the stairs two at a time, managing not to jostle Sabrine despite his speed. His grace did not surprise her—wolves were not clumsy—but his care for her comfort did.
    A beautiful woman, petite in stature, stepped out of a room off the landing. Presumably the Verica the old woman had referred to and Barr had called for. She had hair the same color as Sabrine’s but with bits of dark red mixed in. The nearest Sabrine had seen to anything like it was a hawk and golden eagle shifter. He had dark brown hair with streaks of gold like his second shifting form’s feathers. It was extremely rare for a shifter to be born with both their parents’ animal forms. She’d only ever heard of three her whole life and one was long dead.
    Sabrine could not imagine what had caused this small woman’s coloring until she got closer and the woman’s scent became clear.
    She smelled like a wolf.
    No other shifter had the true black hair of the raven but the raven itself. Which meant that this woman was a wolf-raven dual shifter. The only way that could happen was for one of her parents to have been each.
    Horrified by the implication of that knowledge, Sabrine stared in mute shock at the other woman.
    Who in turn glared at Barr. “You bellowed?”
    “This woman needs a healer.”
    “What did you do to her?”
    “Do not dare ask such a thing.”
    “Why not? Am I supposed to pretend Circin doesn’t seek my services nightly for wounds you inflict?”
    “Your brother is to be laird one day; he must be a strong warrior.”
    “He’s still a boy.” The tiny woman did not seem in the least intimidated by her oversized laird.
    Either she was fearless, stupid or amazingly good at masking the scent of her emotions, a skill the Faol did not share to the same degree as the Éan.
    Sabrine decided she was going to like this woman.
    “He would not thank you for saying so. A Chrechte who has reached sixteen summers without ever wielding a sword in at least mock battle is a disgrace.”
    “Circin is no disgrace!”
    “Nay, but his trainers are.”
    Something moved in the woman’s face, a flicker of disquiet at the mention of the trainers. “I discouraged Circin from training with the older Chrechte of the clan when he was younger.”
    “You will have to explain your reasons for doing so after you see to this woman.”
    “This woman’s name is Sabrine, and well you know it, Donegal laird.” Sabrine gave Barr a frown.
    He smiled in return. “I wondered if you had lost your voice with your memory.”
    “You’ve lost your memory?” Verica demanded and then turned back to Barr. “Why did you not say? An addled brain can be very dangerous. She could appear normal and then simply fall asleep and not wake up.”
    Barr let loose another one of those bone-chilling subvocal growls. Both women flinched.
    “She will not die.”
    Verica nodded as if by saying so, the laird made it so. “Someone must watch her through the night.”
    “I will do it.”
    “You? But you’re the laird!” For the first time, the wolf-raven woman looked rattled. She’d taken her leader’s nudity in stride, though that was not surprising considering men in the Highlands still battled and hunted in their natural-born state as often as not. “She’s not your mate, is she?”
    “I’m no wolf’s mate,” Sabrine said with more certainty than she felt.
    Her reactions to the giant Faol were either explained by knocking her head in her fall to the earth or a connection she could never risk acknowledging.
    Not only for the safety of her people but for her own safety as well. The Éan would never accept one of their own mated to the enemy.
    She