Murphy ran into the room, a smile on his dopey face. Domhnall backed into the corner at the sight of the dobhar-chú. His growth spurts in the past few months had made him roughly the size of a large wolf, and he was definitely a little more intimidating because of it. But he had just freed them! Domhnall could be more grateful. Careful to keep the door open, Clía ruffled the fur on Murphy’s head. “I owe you, little one. Now, you need to stay safe—go for a swim. You’ll be all right there.”
Murphy perked up the moment she mentioned swimming and ran back into the hall. Clía wished there was a better way toprotect him, but if this battle didn’t go well, she knew he would be happy in the lake.
As she stepped into the storage closet, Domhnall cautiously followed. “Griffin wasn’t wrong. If we die out there, we’ll only cause more problems.”
“Then don’t die.” Clía shrugged. “You can stay or go—it doesn’t matter to me—but I won’t sit and wait when I can make a difference.”
She could see the choice rattle around in his head before he squared his shoulders. “For Scáilca.”
He was saying it for himself, but she responded all the same. “For Álainndore.”
***
THE UPSTAIRS REMAINED NO DIFFERENT THAN HOW IT WASwhen they first were hidden away, but the second they walked down the steps to the first floor, the evidence of the battle was clear.
The castle had fallen into chaos.
Soldiers were running, armor bloody and weapons drawn. Everyone inside was either helping an injured comrade or rushing to move to a new post.
Clía couldn’t see anyone she recognized.
“Do we have a plan?” Domhnall had to yell to be heard.
No.
She couldn’t say that, instead replying, “We need to get armed.”
They both were already wearing armor—Clía would betesting her new creation, while Domhnall was in his shining iron set that he paraded around in in class, something that had always aggravated her but now filled her with relief.
Domhnall nodded. “Lead the way.”
Together, they ran through the castle, splitting off to grab their weapons of choice. The pained shouts of the injured jolted through her with every step she took.
Camhaoir rested against the wall of the fabric room. She grabbed it, grateful she never gave it to Niamh like she’d planned. The hilt was reassuring in her grip. Today, she would see just how blessed this blade was.
Footsteps alerted her to Domhnall’s incoming presence. She saw her reflection grinning back at her in the mirror. Blond hair twisted behind her head, her new lightweight armor glimmering in the scattered light, and Camhaoir by her side—she looked like a warrior.
But there was no time for those thoughts, that pride. She had more pressing things to be concerned with.
***
THERE WAS NO QUIET IN BATTLE.
Clía and Domhnall sprinted through Caisleán’s halls, following the steady tide of warriors returning to fight and the sound of metal clashing and screeching against metal. Footsteps pounded on the frozen soil; steel clanged against iron and leather.
It hurt her ears.
She kept running toward it.
Warriors had broken through the wall by the main entrance—a weakness they had anticipated. Most of their foot soldiers were focused there, while archers stood on the tallest points of the castle, sending volleys of arrows into the incoming Tinelannian warriors.
Clía couldn’t see their troops clearly from where she was standing—the fight was a mess of bodies and blades. Figures lay broken on the ground as they passed. She hesitated to look at their faces.
A gasp escaped Domhnall. His gaze was fixed ahead on something she couldn’t see, and before she could stop him, he had darted off. Something collided into her—a Scáilcan warrior darting past and into the fray. By the time Clía caught herself, Domhnall was gone.
The Tinelannian warriors were gaining ground. Some broke from the front line and rushed the castle, only to be swiftly stopped by a loosed arrow. However, the arrows couldn’t prevent the men in front of her from falling or a sword from swinging at her head. She met it with her blade without thinking, and suddenly she found herself caught in the dance of battle.
Clía kept her focus on the weapons coming at her and the people surrounding her. Griffin was right; this wasn’t a training session. This couldn’t even compare to her fight with the Tinelannian men during their mission. There was too much going on, so many things to watch out for.
