Chapter 12: The Seer's Ring

His lips were cold against my cut hand, and then they were not.

He swallowed once, and his whole body arched on the oatmeal-white floor.

His eyes snapped open, black from edge to edge.

His hand came up and closed on my wrist, and he drank.

I let him.

I felt the pull all the way down to my knees, and the room swung, and Morag said, "That's enough."

It wasn't enough.

It was exactly as much as he needed.

The hole under his collarbone drew in on itself, edge to edge, black to red to pink, and sealed.

He stopped.

He let go of me, and lay there staring at the ceiling.

"You chose that," he said.

"I did."

"You cut yourself, and you put it in my mouth."

"Yes."

"Ailsa, you do not know what you have done."

"I do," I said.

"I've given my husband his supper."

Morag made a noise and put her hand over her face, and I realised she was laughing.

At dusk the next day Niall came up from the cellar and found me sitting on the tower stair, in my shift, with a lantern.

He stopped three steps below me.

He looked up at me for a long moment, and I knew he had finally stopped being afraid of it.

"Every night," I said.

"Not once in a while, when my head hurts."

"Every night, when you wake."

"That's the marriage."

His mouth moved.

He came up the three steps and knelt on the one below mine and put his hands on my knees.

I pushed my shift up, and spread my thighs on the cold stone, and took his hair in my fist.

"Here," I said.

"On the stair."

He pressed his face to the inside of my thigh and bit.

The pleasure rushed through me from the sting to the roots of my hair, and I threw my head back against the wall.

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