Tynan gave her an approving nod.
Angie brushed off her hands. “Good job of standing your ground, girl.”
Darcy winked.
And everyone returned to what they were doing. Because they hadn’t thought they’d done anything special.
She knew better.
“I have to admit, I’m surprised Tynan didn’t jump in,” Margery said.
“Actually, when the cahirs moved to intervene, he told them to wait. That it would be good for you to bare your fangs and confront the asshole.”
“I…” Margery blew out a breath. “He was right. It felt good.”
“Even better, the way you stated your case to all the Cosantirs means Pete can’t claim we stole you. You’re safer this way.”
“Huh. That’s…smart.”
“That would be Calum. He was beside Tynan when you started raising hell with Pete.”
A good, protective Cosantir. Friends on her side. Tynan and Donal. “I’m really glad Heather brought me to Cold Creek.”
“So are we. Now, come on, we have somewhere we need to be.” Vicki motioned toward the other side of the grounds.
As they headed that way, Breanne and Darcy fell in behind them.
Halfway across the meadow, Margery heard someone say, loudly, “Oh, cat-scat, it’s the scarred-up gimp. Honestly, why does she bother to attend Gatherings? Does she really think any male would want her?”
The words made Margery flinch. Made her remember the scar on her face. Her limp. Made her feel…less.
Vicki hissed under her breath and turned.
So did Margery.
The female talking was Sarah, the brunette who been with Donal at Margery’s first Cold Creek gathering. Beautiful, petite, curvy. With a tongue sharper than a razor.
Deal with it now. No hiding in caves, remember?
Margery made her voice strong—and spoke to Sarah and her companion. “In case you forget, Daonain Law says all single shifters must attend Gatherings. That’s why I attend.” Then she remembered what Oliver had said about beauty hiding an empty heart. “As for being wanted, I’ve noticed many males prefer inner strength and compassion to outer beauty.”
A low masculine laugh from the side startled Margery. Two males had stopped to listen.
One had dark hair and even darker eyes. “I far prefer compassion, aye.”
The other, cahir-sized with long flaxen hair, gave Margery a slow perusal, taking in the scar on her face and those on her bare arms and hands. His lips turned up for a second. Then he turned to Sarah and said, “Any male who has fought recognizes battle scars like those, and any male worth the name honors courage far above shallow attractiveness.”
Both males tilted their heads at Margery, and the dark one murmured in a French-accented voice, “We will hope to win your favor at the Gathering tomorrow night.”
Without another glance at Sarah, the two strolled on.
Speechless, Margery stared after them, but Breanne and Darcy were snickering.
Red-faced, Sarah stomped away in the other direction, trailed by her friend.
Grinning, Vicki started walking again, pulling Margery along. “We’re running late, crew. Let’s go.”
“Late for what?” Margery’s question was answered when Vicki stopped at a rock-enclosed firepit. Big logs around the pit created benches to sit on.
“Here you are. Finally.” Emma, the bard, was comfortably seated on one log, and Breanne dropped down beside her.
Heather was on another log. “I was beginning to think you got lost.”
Darcy tossed a blanket on an empty log and sat down. She extended her legs to toast her boots. “Boy, don’t go wading in the creek. The water’s freezing.”
Laughing, Heather motioned with the mug she was holding. “How about a warmer-upper to get rid of the chill?”
“But—aren’t we supposed to be setting up?” Margery glanced back at the camp.
“Everything’s finished,” Heather said. “We’ve been waiting for Vicki and team to find you.”
They’d been looking for her. Wanting her.
How many times could they reduce her to tears in a few minutes? Blinking hard—again—Margery joined Heather on the log and accepted a mug from the batch near the fire.
Vicki sat on her other side and picked up a mug.
Catching the fragrance, Margery smiled. “Hot chocolate’s a great idea.”
After a sip, Darcy widened her eyes. “This is hot chocolate with a major kick. Really nice, Heather.”
“We’ve corrupted Darcy,” Breanne said. “She’s learned the wonders of Baileys, Kahlua, and Amaretto.”
“I don’t even know what those are,” Margery admitted.
“Oh, you will.” Emma laughed. “Be aware, though, that your hot chocolate has a lot of alcohol in it.”
“Fuck yes. I love drunken sex in the moonlight.” Vicki took a hefty gulp as everyone snickered.
Drunken sex with Tynan sounded like a lot of fun. It was a shame Donal had stayed in Cold Creek. Margery took a tentative sip. “Oh, my Gods, this is really good!”
Laughter rippled around the fire.
As if the sound had drawn it, a salamander appeared in the flames, rising to do a swirly dance.
“There’s a pretty guy,” Emma said in approval. “And, look, he brought a friend.”
Well above the flames, where smoke rose into the air, a sylph mirrored the salamander’s dance.
Margery breathed in the cool, clean night air, holding the scents of wood smoke, of deep forest, of chocolate and shifters.
The air of freedom.
For a moment, the past crept closer: The loneliness of the tiny cell. The pain of bruises and welts. The slow exhaustion of impending death. The hard cell floor where she’d sit beneath the narrow window so the moonlight could wash over her.
But she was here now.
Overhead, the stars were appearing in the darkening sky as a silvery glow lit the rim of the mountains. Tonight, the moon would cast her light over the entire world.
Tears prickled her eyes at the beauty.
“I love this. All of this,” she whispered.
Hearing her, Darcy looked around. At the forest, the tents, the females gathered around the fire. She nodded. “Home. Back with our people. Friends.”
Then, being the irrepressible Darcy, she snickered. “And the males aren’t bad either.”
Cheers greeted her statement.
Darcy waggled her brows. “Have you noticed that Margery agrees with me—at least about two of them?”
That got even more hooting. It seemed everyone had noticed.
“Well, honestly. I barely get a newbie broken in, and they go off and get mated.” Heather huffed. “It’s very annoying.”
Her light tone couldn’t conceal the unhappiness beneath it.
Margery took her hand. “I’m sorry.” Because she’d felt the same way in Ailill Ridge when it seemed everyone else had friends and mates and family.
“No, don’t be, sweetie.” Heather leaned against her. “I’m just crabby that I can’t find anyone for myself.”
Vicki frowned. “Considering that you’re strikingly attractive, intelligent, fun…and nice, I always figured your lack of mates was your choice. It’s not?”