Page 112 of Queen of the Shadow

Scáthach nodded. “Rationally I understand that and have understood it since Mother explained the Winterlands to me. And yet still it haunts me—the fact that not one spirit here will ever experience joy or peace or love again.”

“What would you do were you the Queen of the Underworld as well as of Shadow?”

She chewed her bottom lip for some time before she answered. “I would come here frequently, cloaked by shadow as we are now, and observe.”

He was intrigued by her answer and asked, “To what end?”

“To perhaps someday find a spirit who is repentant and worthy of forgiveness.” She glanced at him and smiled almost shyly. “Discovering even one would be a cause for celebration and a reason to continue to return.”

“You are a wonder, Queen of Shadow,” Cuchulainn told her, loving how her cheeks pinkened.

A group of six men jogged in a single line across the path in front of them, completely oblivious to their shadow-wrapped presence. Cuchulainn and Scáthach paused to let them pass. They each had strange necklaces draped around their necks. Whatever dangled from the necklaces thumped against their chests in time with their foot beats. Cuchulainn was trying to figure out what the necklaces were made of when one of the men lifted his to his mouth and began chewing on it.

Scáthach made a soft gagging sound and looked hastily away from the line of men.

“What is he eating?” Cuchulainn asked.

Scáthach grimaced, cleared her throat, and then said, “The necklaces are made of fingers and ears they’ve cut from anyone they come across. They never stop moving. They continually hunt other men, cut off their fingers and ears, and then eat them as they search for more.”

He stared at the line of men as they disappeared into the gloom. “That’s repulsive.”

“Definitely.”

As the gloom swallowed the last of the men, Cuchulainn glanced around them. “Is it getting darker?”

“Yes. We’ll have to stop and make camp soon.” She sighed heavily. “The days are short here and the nights long, which is why we haven’t reached Curruid today. Though from what I can feel from the shadows, we will arrive at the Winter Sea tomorrow, which is where the monster will be found.”

“You sound weary. Must we wait for full dark before we stop?”

She smiled at him and some of the weariness faded from her face. “We absolutely do not need to wait for full dark. Shadows, please lead us to a spot where we may pass the long night in comfort.”

They only took a few steps more before their blanketing shadows nudged them from the path, guiding them to a large, rocky hill that was, thankfully, free of spirits turning to stone or thistles. The shadows prodded them so that they followed the curve of the hill around to its rear, where there was an arched opening. Scáthach didn’t hesitate but strode toward the opening. Cuchulainn reached out and snagged her wrist, halting her.

She turned to him. “Sentanta?”

“We’ve seen this realm absorb people several different ways. Is it really wise to willingly enter something that looks far too mouth-like?” He cut his eyes to the opening.

“We’re not dead so the realm cannot absorb us. And you must keep in mind that the Winterlands are sentient, even more so than the Autumnal Realm. It has to be to contain the spirits of the raging dead. Also, the shadows wouldn’t lead me wrong.” She laced her fingers through his. “Inside we will be safe. On that I give you my word.”

Like a dog gently herding a lost lamb, the shadows nudged at his back. Cuchulainn took a step forward, and just within the opening of the cave, light blossomed as a campfire burst into flame, radiating heat. He needed no more encouragement but strode through the arch with Scáthach.

“It really is a cave,” said Cuchulainn as his gaze swept the small space, carefully looking for threats. Behind them the shadows served as a door, sealing the entrance, though they somehow allowed the smoke from the campfire to escape. The firelight was muted gold and orange, and the flames crackled with a homey sound that had Cuchulainn’s shoulders finally relaxing.

“I feel like we’ve been walking for weeks,” said Scáthach as they dropped their packs and weapons.

“It’s good to be warm and to see some light again,” Cuchulainn said. But he wasn’t looking at the fire. He was staring at Scáthach. She’d taken her cloak off and shook back her hair. In the soft light of the cave, it shined like silk, framing her face before it cascaded in waves to her waist. Her warrior’s body was tall and supple, with a woman’s softness covering cords of muscle. She carried herself with the grace of a demigod and the confidence of someone utterly secure in her own power.

She lifted her gaze to him. Cuchulainn knew what she saw. He had never desired anyone with the intensity he did her. Walking through death that day and seeing the horrors of the Winterlands had made him starkly aware that what they had together was fleeting; all mortal lives were fleeting.

He opened his mouth to tell her of his desire—to woo her to him with proclamations of—

Scáthach closed the space between them with a single step and wound her arms around his shoulders. She looked into his eyes and said, “Love me, Sentanta, so that our passion burns away the memory of the frozen death that surrounds us.”

They came together in a kiss that scorched. Her touch ignited him. It didn’t just burn away the surrounding death. It seared the memory of Aife’s defilement of his body so that he met Scáthach’s passion with unrestrained enthusiasm.

They parted only to hurriedly take off their clothes and spread their cloaks on the stone floor. Then they blazed together. Their moans of pleasure and gasping breaths filled the space, creating a symphony of desire. When Scáthach knelt before him and took him into her mouth, he gave himself fully to her, though soon he was on his knees with her. She smiled and nipped at his bottom lip, the curve of his neck, and finally her teasing tongue found his nipple. He gasped as she flicked it across his sensitive flesh.

And then he couldn’t bear not being inside her. Still on their knees, he turned her so that her back was to him. Over her shoulder she gave him a sensuous smile before Scáthach languidly bent to rest on her forearms as her rounded ass pressed seductively against him.