Ward groaned and tried to sit up, swaying slightly. Viper kept his grip gentle but firm. “Easy. You hit the floor like a sack of bricks.”
“I’m fine,” Ward muttered, his voice rough. “Just overwhelmed.”
No shit.
Me too.
“Let me know when you are ready to go back out there.”
Ward scrubbed his hand down his face. “Don’t suppose we could wake up from this whacked out dream anytime soon, could we?”
“Probably not.” He gripped Ward’s hand and hauled him to his feet. “From the sounds of things, there’s one hell of a party kicking off out there.”
“Yeah.”
Ward followed him back into the hall. Fires roared high in iron braziers. Long tables creaked beneath slabs of venison, wild boar, and roasted salmon bigger than any fish Viper had ever seen. The air smelled like smoke, meat, and honey. Drums pounded fast and low as if the rhythms of war had become a celebration.
The Fianna laughed and sang and thumped each other on the back like they’d never seen a battlefield, only the joy that came after. Cups clashed and knives carved at the meat. Someone was already shirtless and dancing, daubed in swirling blue paint and swinging a tankard overhead like a weapon of mass intoxication.
Viper glanced around the hall, searching for his men. The SEALs were scattered through the chaos. Zero was holding his own in a drinking contest with a warrior twice his size. Reaper leaned against a support beam with a tankard in one hand and a wary eye on everything. Kaze was laughing like he’d finally found a country that matched his insanity. Juice and Trace sat curled together on a bench near the hearth, fingers intertwined and heads close.
Viper reached out and hooked two fingers under the strap of the satchel-like pack Ward still held. “You can put this down, you know. No one here’s going to take your homework.”
Ward looked at him, startled, and lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know how to let go of the only thing that makes sense right now.” Viper didn’t push. He just dropped the strap and let his hand fall between them. “We’re in the middle of a war party thrown by men who believe I’m your mate,” Ward said after a beat. “So… what now?”
Viper exhaled slowly and leaned back on one hand, letting the firelight wash across his skin, feeling the hum of power still twined in his bones since that battlefield mark. “Now?” he said, eyes locked on Ward’s. “Now we eat. Then we figure out what the hell fate thinks it’s doing with us, or we figure out a way out of here and back to our time. Because I don’t know if we time-traveled or some shit.”
“I’d swap those things around,” Ward said. “First, figure out if we can get back to where we are supposed to be. Then figure out if this mate stuff,” he pulled up his sleeve to show him the blue swirls climbing up his arm, “is still in place if we get home.”
Even though he wasn’t sure why he was doing it, Viper opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it shut again as a warrior approached. A platter was slammed down in front of them with a force that rattled the bench. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was grateful for the interruption or not.
The warrior who delivered the platter grinned like he’d slain the beast himself—and maybe he had, judging by the sheer size of the roasted haunch now glistening in front of them. “This,” the man declared proudly, “is venison from out Fulacht Fiadh. The stag was hunted at moonrise by Diarmuid himself. Fed on wild thyme, mountain moss, and rage, you’ll not be tasting anything better, so you won’t.”
Viper blinked at the hunk of meat still steaming on the slab. It smelled like smoke and marrow and something earthy that made his stomach clench with sudden, ravenous hunger. “It’s venison from a what did you say? A fucking fiadh?”
The warrior erupted in laughter. He smacked his hand on the table a couple of times, making the platters jump. “A Fulacht Fiadh, an oven in the ground made of rocks. We fill it with food and hot stones from the fire.”
“I’ll draw you a sketch later,” Ward told him.
“Or you could take him outside and show him ours,” the warrior offered. “It would be out through the kitchens, so it would.”
“Yes.”
Viper caught Ward as he started to get to his feet. “You need to eat first.” He grabbed the carved bone-handled blade from the table and carved off a slab. The meat cut like butter, dark and rich with a layer of crisped fat around the edge. “It will still be there when we are finished eating.” He handed a piece to Ward, who took it with cautious fingers and a look that said he was trying very hard not to rush off to see an ancient Irish ground oven in real-life action.
He sliced some meat for himself and popped it into his mouth. The taste was… divine. Not like anything he’d ever eaten in the field. Hell, not like anything he’d had outside that Michelin-star restaurant he’d splurged on after returning from his first twelve-month deployment. The fire inside him that had been burning since Fionn touched him flared hotter with every bite.
He reached for a tankard that looked like it had been carved out of the horn of a massive animal and took a sip. He’d expected it to be water or some kind of wine, but this burned sweet as it ran hot down his throat, and left him blinking away stars.
“The water of life,” said a voice behind him. Caílte mac Rónáin leaned over, his face streaked with fresh ink, his grin sharp. “Our last gift to the world before we faded into the myths and legends. Drink deep, brother. Tonight, we do not mourn our missing Rí. Tonight, we feast and celebrate the return of our king and his hound.”
Viper nodded once. He could totally get behind celebrating the return of warrior brothers. He lifted the cup again and drank deeply from it as all around him, the hall swelled with music. Flutes joined the bodhráns, and a dozen warriors had started a stomping reel near the fire pit—barefoot, laughing, slamming tankards to the beat. One had a bear pelt slung across his shoulders, dancing like a man possessed. Another juggledapples and knives while reciting a bawdy poem about seducing banshees.
Ward sat frozen beside him, eyes wide again, but this time not with fear—just wonder.
“You still breathing?” Viper asked, nudging his thigh.
“Barely.” Ward dragged his gaze away from the spectacle to meet Viper’s eyes. “This is what they meant in all those tales, isn’t it? This. All of it. It’s wilder than I ever imagined. Is this even real?”
