Not that he knew what to expect, because nothing about this place had ever promised safety.
Viper didn’t flinch. “Then let’s do it.”
They stepped together into the ring, and the second their boots crossed the boundary, Ward felt it. Pressure pressed against his chest like gravity had doubled. His tattoos flared, casting a glow from beneath his skin, mirrored by Viper’s as their mate marks pulsed in tandem.
Fionn lifted a hand. “Grá Croí and warrior, stand between the stones and face one another.”
Ward’s palms were slick, and his mouth was dry as he obeyed. Viper moved like he was preparing to storm a battlefield. He looked like he held no fear or hesitation, but Ward knew him a little better now, and he saw the twitch in his jaw and the tightness in his shoulders.
Then Fionn spoke a word he didn’t recognize. It was ancient and guttural, and the runes carved into the standing stones erupted in light. Wind howled around them, and the circle glowed with wild, living magic. Viper staggered forward with a sharp gasp, nearly dropping to one knee.
“Viper?” His voice cracked as he caught him.
Viper’s hands went to his temples. “Too much,” he gritted out. “It’s in my head. In my blood. Fuck, it’s everywhere?—”
“Look at me.” Ward stepped close and pressed both palms to his face, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Breathe with me. You don’t have to fight it back. Let it move through you and it will pass.” He had no idea if what he was saying was true. All he had to go on was old stories that some people called myths and others called history.
Viper clung to him, and slowly, oh so slowly, his shaking stilled as the magic and power shifted and settled while the light in the circle softened.
Ward’s arm burned as the mate mark edged its way toward his shoulder. He needed to scratch at it so badly, but he also didn’t want to take his arms from Viper’s yet until he was sure he was steady on his feet.
Oisín stepped forward, gaze sharp. “He grounds you, warrior.”
“Wrong,” Viper grunted. “He saves me, Mac an Rí.”
The circle still hummed with latent energy as Viper stood steadily next to him, though his chest rose and fell like he’d run a mile in kit, and his skin was still glowing faintly where Ward’s hands had anchored him.
Ward barely noticed what was happening around him anymore because the light from the stones flickered, and something pulsed in the center of his chest. He swayed slightly, one hand pressing flat against his sternum as heat poured outward. The mark flared white-hot, then red, then shimmered to silver, gold, and finally blue. “What the fuck?” he muttered, but the words barely made it out of his mouth.
A hush fell across the circle. Even Kaze shut the hell up. Reaper and Zero leaned in from the edge while Trace and Juice stood frozen in place with their eyes locked on him as Fionn stepped forward, his eyes bright with something like wonder. “There it is.”
“There what is?” Viper growled as if something had majorly pissed him off.
“The oath has taken root.” Fionn’s gaze never left Ward. “He is not only your Grá Croí, but the gods have decided he is the Oathkeeper.”
Ward blinked. “The hell is an Oathkeeper?”
“A protector of bonds. A guardian of truth.” Fionn walked around the outer edge of the stone ring. “Only one is born each generation when the land deems it necessary. Tír na nÓg remembers the old magics. It remembers oaths broken and those kept in blood. It remembers balance.” He stopped directly in front of Ward. “You are the balance of the warrior’s soul. You are his shield.”
“I don’t know what that means.” His voice wavered. His legs weren’t sure whether they wanted to stand or fold at the knees.
“You will,” Fionn promised, and then held out a carved horn filled with something milky white. “This is An Bainne Ceangailteach. The Binding Milk.”
“Binding what?” Viper moved toward Ward again as if he could block whatever came next.
“Not you to each other.” Fionn’s smile was indulgent. “This binds you both to Tír na nÓg. To the Fianna. To the call, you have already answered when you released me from my prison.”
Ward looked at the horn. “What happens if I don’t drink it?” His hands shook slightly as he took it.
“You will return to being fully human.” Fionn was solemn. “Tomorrow is the night of the full moon. Your mate’s mark will dig into your heart, and his mark into his heart, killing you both.”
“What’s in it?” Viper asked.
“Herbs. Magic. The essence of the land’s choosing. Nothing harmful unless you resist the bond it deepens.” Fionn looked at both of them now. “It will awaken what still slumbers in your hearts. It will call to your powers. It will strip your defenses so you feel every connection without question and without fear.”
That sounds dangerous.
It sounds like temptation in a cup.
