Ronan fell into the nearest chair. He tried to sit up straight—to look the part of the dignified warrior—but the aches in his bones called his bluff.
The other warriors watched the four of them with a mournful respect. Admiring, and understanding.
There were no greetings. Ronan wasn’t sure what they were discussing before his arrival, but the air around them was tense. Domhnall and Kían sat on the other side of the table, shock and concern in their eyes as they took in the group.
Kordislaen stood. “I understand Commander Ó Dálaigh has been killed, and Dornáin is gone as well.”
“Yes, sir.” Clía’s voice was raspy from lack of use. On their journey back, she hadn’t spoken a word to him or anyone else. Ronan knew she was struggling—he wished he knew how to comfort her. All he could do was watch as she turned in on herself.
“Did you gather the information you were sent for?”
Clía’s eyes met his, and Ronan saw one way he could help her. She didn’t need to be the one to share the tale. “We collected some knowledge that might be useful. However, when our position was compromised, and with losing two men so early on, we decided not to risk the information we gained. It was a strategic retreat.”
He waited for Kordislaen to reprimand them for failing in their mission. But his resulting silence was almost worse. He sat shaking his head, then finally spoke. “I understand. Debrief us on what happened.”
Ronan began by telling him of their uneventful journey to the forest, then explained how they were overrun when they split to prepare camp. “They knew we would be there. As we went to sweep the forest, they were ready for us. We didn’t stand a chance. They managed to knock us all out before taking us back to their camp. Our escape attempts there only got us more of a beating. Thankfully, Clía, Niamh, and Dornáin came to our rescue.” He left out Ó Connor’s involvement for the moment. There were too many people in the room, and they had already suffered one betrayal. He wasn’t sure whom they could trust.
“And how did you free them from the enemy camp?” Kordislaen asked, focus returning to Clía.
“We were suspicious when they took longer than expected to scout the area,” Niamh replied, demanding Kordislaen see her. “Dornáin initially wanted to move on without them, but Clía stood her ground.” Despite all the horrors they had seen, and all the horrors that would come, Ronan felt a warmth rush through him. Of course he had Clía to thank for saving his life.
Any peace was short-lived as Niamh detailed the events oftheir rescue attempt. Like Ronan, she didn’t mention Ó Connor. All the same, he sensed Clía tense beside him.
Kordislaen stood in silent contemplation as Niamh finished speaking.
It was a moment before he spoke. “We will reconvene in the evening. You are all dismissed.” Movement flooded the room. Kordislaen stopped Ronan before he could rise. “Not you four—I still need to hear the rest of the information you gathered. For safety, it’s best I hear it alone.”
***
WHEN THE ROOM CLEARED, RONAN BEGAN TO EXPLAIN. “They spoke of a man named Bás. He’s the key to their next step. My guess is that he’s a high-ranking warrior, maybe someone with intel on Scáilca’s defenses. They have no horse cavalry, and there’s a Tinelann general in their camp, but I didn’t see them. I believe that general is the one leading the troops and will meet up with several other units of soldiers this week. After that, they strike their target. It’ll be a location that Bás was able to weaken. They believe it’ll fall easily.”
The target. They were traveling southwest and would be looking for a place they could use as a base. It would need to be capable of supporting around a thousand soldiers, if not more, and in an accessible location for further troop movement if they were truly planning a full-scale invasion of Scáilca. And they would need to be able to secure it confidently.
A keep.
Clía’s head lifted, as if remembering something. For the firsttime since Ó Connor fell, Ronan saw life in her eyes. “They’re coming for Caisleán Cósta.”
MacCraith finally spoke, shaking his head. “They would be fools to attack us. We’re heavily armed and better trained than anywhere else in Inismian.”
“Bás will be priming the location for them,” she reminded him. “He could be inside Caisleán now, working against us.”
“You mean we have a spy,” Kordislaen said, his voice deathly calm.
“Perhaps more than one. Why would we believe ourselves invulnerable? Caisleán is just as fallible as any court.”
Niamh leaned her elbows on the table. “There’s more.”
“Go on.” It was a command.
“Chief Ó Connor was at the Tinelann camp,” Niamh said. Clía’s eyes fell shut at the sound of his name. “He was working with them, and during our escape, he was killed. We believe he had allied with Tinelann to weaken Álainndore from the inside.”
Kordislaen froze. “And you believe Scáilca is compromised in the same way?” He closed his eyes, and Ronan couldn’t tell if it was in prayer or anger. “I’ll need to think this through. Go rest. Eat, and see the healers. I will meet with you all later, and I expect you all to be at your best.” He lifted a hand to Clía before they could walk out. “Not you, Fionnáin. I wish to speak with you alone for a moment.”
Ronan hesitated. She had been through too much these past few days; he worried at leaving her behind. But this was Clía. She could handle whatever Kordislaen wanted to talk about.
Still, he waited for her to nod at him before finding the door.
When he entered the hall, he was greeted by MacCraith’s hand on his arm. Firm and insistent. “Ó Faoláin. I need your help with some of the weaponry.”
