Caller of Light Read Free

blood-red mane covered his neck. Although pitched forward, his small ears could swivel in almost a complete circle.
    “Aren’t you beautiful.”
    The Criton lifted his head higher in a definite “I know I am” response, and she smiled. She extended her hand for him to smell. He lowered his massive head, inhaled her scent, and sighed, apparently satisfied she wasn’t a threat.
    She stroked the soft, downy hair on his thick neck. “I bet you’re wonderful to ride.”
    “He is,” boasted a male voice from the doorway.
    Startled by the unexpected intrusion, Carina yanked her hand off the Criton like she’d been scalded by boiling water and stared at the straw-littered, dirt floor. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any harm.”
    The steady clomp of footsteps approached until a pair of black boots stood in front of her.
    “I’m surprised FireStrike let you pet him. He’s very particular.”
    Her courage rose when she didn’t detect any anger from the rider for touching his Criton. “He’s magnificent.” She smiled, venturing an upward glance. Her breath caught as a sudden awareness of the man standing before her warmed her body.
    His dark, brown hair, blown into a roguish dishevelment, gave her the impression of a lad coming in from the fields after a hard day playing. But the disarray suited him. He wore all black leather except for a tan shirt with a v-shaped, loosely-tied collar. His duster, a long riding jacket much like her split tail, displayed the Duncan insignia—a red Criton breathing fire. Specks of dust from the journey dotted the duster, adding to his boyish charm. His broad shoulders tapered to a compact waist before flaring down to sturdy legs.
    “Aye, he is,” the man replied, stroking FireStrike’s neck.
    “Are you bonded?” The intrusive words tumbled out of her mouth without thought.
    “We are. Why aren’t you afraid of a Criton you don’t know?”
    She shrugged. “I’ve never been afraid of Critons.”
    “Then you are either our next Caller or a fool.”
    She clamped her teeth together and bit back the choice words burning at the tip of her tongue. How dare he call her a fool. Her spine stiffened. She pinned the rider with a stern glare and balled her hands into fists. “I suggest you watch what you say when speaking to King McKay’s daughter.”
    The man bowed with a slight tilt of his head. “Lady Marissa, forgive my indiscretion.”
    Carina swallowed the groan threatening to push past her lips. Her eyes traveled down the interior of the barn to stare at the empty stalls, like silent sentinels waiting for occupancy. She reached for her Criton necklace, clutching it for reassurance. The only remaining keepsake that once belonged to her mother, the precious medallion never left her neck. “Marissa is my older half sister.”
    “I didn’t know King McKay had another daughter. May I ask your name?”
    “Carina.”
    “Well, I imagine King McKay has had his hands full with suitors then.”
    She glanced up to determine if he mocked her, but witnessed a sincere smile and sparkling, green and grey-flecked eyes. Small lines around his eyes, either from laughing or spending hours in the sun, hinted at a maturity beyond his years. His eyes with those alluring specks glimmered down at her and a curious smile played across his mouth. Her lips curved into a small grin.
    He chuckled. “Well, Lady Carina, the men are resting in a lower field waiting for instructions. Since I couldn’t find anyone to acquaint me with your father’s holdings, would you be so kind to offer that courtesy?”
    Her heart stumbled. Never in her life had anyone spoken to her in such a kind, respectful manner. “Well…Father would want to escort you himself, but he took Marissa to see Father Augustus for a fertility blessing.”
    The man’s eyes widened. “Is that so?” He laughed.
    “Yes, you know, because King Duncan is here to court Marissa.” She stared at this brown-haired man with a furrowed brow. As a