He was a man who had lost the right to be a man, and so he fought with the desperation of an animal that had been caged too long.
The others caught up quickly. They approached on horseback, swords drawn, but dismounted at the edge of the clearing, their faces taut with the realization that they were witnessing something ancient and ungovernable.
Tristan and the others tethered their horses, forming a loose ring around the combatants, but none interfered. This was between Coinneach and Osmond. It was an honor, yes, but also a necessity: these attempted murders had to count for something, even if it was only the settling of a private balance.
The fight escalated. Coinneach felt a jagged pain in his left flank where Osmond had ripped a patch of skin away, but he retaliated with a bite to the ear, tearing it nearly in half. They broke apart, circled, and came together again. Blood spattered the leaves and pooled in the hollows of the earth; the smell of it drove both wolves into a frenzy.
They moved so fast that for a moment it seemed the very trees were closing in, the world shrinking to the size of this single, brutal contest. Osmond feinted left, then darted right, catching Coinneach off-guard and sinking his teeth into Coinneach’s haunch. Coinneach roared, shaking him off, and then drove him backward, step by step, toward the waiting semicircle of men.
Osmond must have realized, at some point, that he could not win. His attacks grew more erratic, the space between them lengthening. He tried to dart past Coinneach, aiming for an escape into the deeper woods, but Coinneach anticipated the move and cut him off, forcing him into the open. Osmond faltered, limping now, one forepaw dragging uselessly.
He looked up at Coinneach with a strange, almost human expression—regret, or perhaps resignation, as if he knew exactly what he had become and what he deserved.
The others waited, silent, at the edge of the clearing. Their swords drooped, forgotten at their sides. They would notinterfere now, would not rob Coinneach of this grim rite. It was a reckoning, not just between two wolves, but between two ways of life: one that survived by rules, and one that survived by breaking them.
Coinneach drew a deep breath, filled his lungs with the humid air, and advanced. Osmond bared his teeth, but the snarl was feeble, more a memory of defiance than the real thing. They crashed together, fur and blood and muscle and bone, and this time Coinneach did not hold back.
He clamped onto Osmond’s throat, felt the pulse fluttering beneath his jaws, and squeezed. Osmond thrashed, but Coinneach held fast, feeling the life ebb from his enemy with each passing second. When at last Osmond went limp, Coinneach released him, panting, and stood over the body, the taste of iron thick in his mouth.
Coinneach straightened, licking blood from his muzzle, and looked at the ring of men. Their faces were wary, a mix of awe and apprehension. It was not easy, watching a man become a wolf and then take a life as one. It stripped away the easy comforts of civilization, reminding them all of what they were beneath the armor and swords.
Coinneach shifted back. He stood, naked and trembling, covered in blood and grime, and waited for someone to speak. Though he at once thought of getting another scolding from Blair once she saw his wounds.
The gathering was silent for a long time, the only sound the slow drip of blood onto leaves. Then Tristan stepped forward, his voice low and steady. “It’s done.”
But it wasn’t done. Not until Coinneach learned of Rupert’s fate. They wouldn’t be safe until he was dead too.
19
When Coinneach and the others arrived back at the croft, Hamish said, “Rupert was so scared he got too close to the edge of the cliffs overlooking the sea and perished. I would have had a more satisfactory ending if I had managed to fight the man. What about Osmond? From your bite marks, I venture to say you fought him as a wolf.”
“You would be right.” He looked around for his family. Morag’s body was already gone.
“We’ve taken Magnus, Elspeth, and Tamhas to the castle to rest up and eat with us on the morrow. They will stay there as long as they like. Do you know why they would never take part in the celebrations with the clan?” Hamish asked.
“They were afraid someone would realize I belonged at the castle?”
“Aye. Your uh, mother told me that. Not only that, but Rupert’s last remarks were, his da killed Aisling’s da when they were in a battle fighting our enemy,” Hamish said. “All these years, we thought her da was killed in battle. He was, but from the enemy within. It’s up to you to share the information with Aisling and Blair if you wish.”
“Aisling and I dinna keep secrets from each other.” Yet Coinneach wondered if this one secret should be an exception.
“I know your mind is on your family, your other family, but I wanted to say that you will have a private chamber of your own now. And we’ve got men who will rebuild your family’s croft in the meantime.”
“I appreciate it?—”
“Da. You can say it whenever it pleases you.”
Coinneach smiled. “Da.” But when his family was nearby, Magnus would always be his da.
Then they rode back to the castle as the others got busy rebuilding the roof and pulling any of the furniture out of the croft to clean and rebuild where necessary.
Nelly, Aisling, and Blair had gone back to the castle with Coinneach’s family.
He still figured Blair would have a fit when she saw him all torn up after fighting Osmond.
When they finally arrived at the castle, he saw his parents and brother in the chamber where they were staying, but they looked horrified to see him all chewed up.
“It only hurts a little bit. How are you doing?”
