He woke only because he had spent decades honing the ability to know when his quarry had escaped. He pushed himself to his feet, suppressing the urge to groan, then looked for his missing horse gel.
“She went that way.”
He shot Heather a look. “Never know what sorts of lads might mimic their master’s ways, would you agree?”
“Protective.”
“Looking for better ale than you serve, actually.”
Heather smiled briefly. “She won’t appreciate it, but I’ve done it as well. Off you go. And as repayment, I’ll see to your stalls for you.”
Damion blinked, not exactly sure what he should say. “Well,” he managed finally.
Heather shook his head and walked off.
Now he was certain Soilléir and Rùnach were sipping sour wine from Penrhyn and laughing their arses off at him, no doubt having scryed the
