Niamh and Clía walked away from Sárait’s bed and toward the window to give the couple their moment in privacy. “If we’re right, and the battle is coming to Caisleán in the next few days, then we need to make a plan.” Niamh spoke in a hushed voice. “Sárait can’t stay here—it’ll be too dangerous.”
“It’ll be too dangerous for anyone who isn’t combat trained,” Clía said.
“Then we need to evacuate them. And soon.”
She thought back to the person Kordislaen was writing to. Cuilinn.
Why did she know that name...?
“Kordislaen’s definitely working with Tinelann,” she breathed, suddenly remembering.
Niamh cut her a sharp glance. “You’re sure?”
Clía nodded. During her various study sessions with Ronan, they made a point to learn every important name in Tinelann. At the time, they had hoped it would help them understand Tinelann’s motives and the threats to their kingdom. They studied every royal, noble, chief, and general. Including Chief Cuilinn.
That letter contained proof of Kordislaen’s treason. So of course he couldn’t let Sárait live after seeing it.
“This doesn’t change anything,” Niamh said. “We were preparing to fight Tinelann. Now we know who is helping them. If anything, we have an advantage.”
They did. Kordislaen might know the castle well, but they knew how he worked. She couldn’t wait to see the surprise in his eyes when his plans crumbled.
She needed to talk to Ronan. To tell him that she would keep fighting.
She wanted to hear him say those three words again.
Clía looked out at the grounds of Caisleán. A light dusting of snow covered the grass. The trees had grown bare, except for a few thick evergreens. In another time, it might be idyllic.
A carriage stood before the main entrance.
“Who would be traveling now?” she whispered.
Two figures left the castle. Kordislaen’s dark cloak stood out against the winter ground. Next to him was a tall figure with dark hair.
Ronan.
Her stomach turned as she watched him climb into the carriage with the general. She couldn’t see his face clearly, but from how he followed Kordislaen, he didn’t seem to be under duress.
The carriage began to move away.
Ronan was leaving.
With the traitor.
Part Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ronan sat in front of Kordislaen, legs aching as the carriage jolted to a stop.
Kordislaen looked out the window before opening the door. “We go on foot from here.”
They walked through frost-covered fields until the sun was high in the sky, only stopping at the base of a towering hill.
Kordislaen let out a whistle. Three simple notes.
They were echoed back at him. Satisfied, he continued up the incline.
A code. So that they wouldn’t be shot with an arrow by scouts on their approach.
