Clía didn’t put away her blade. “I’m staying here.”
Their eyes met, and Ronan knew he couldn’t talk her out of it. Someone needed to take down the general.
And someone needed to lead the troops into the tunnels. Ronan knew strategy; he’d stayed awake with Draoi Griffin planning their defense. He had to be the one to secure the cliffs.
The thought of leaving her behind filled him with nausea, but she was a trained warrior. A curadh. She could handle one man.
“His legs, they’re injured. The left leg must’ve been a deeper wound—he’s favoring it,” Ronan whispered. She nodded, andhe stepped forward, his hand wrapping around her free one. “Be safe, firecress.”
“I am the queen of safety and rational thought.” She smiled.
His face twisted in an attempt to smile back.
“Take Camhaoir.” She tried to hand him the bejeweled blade, but he refused it with a closed fist.
“What are you doing? You’ll need that,” he replied.
Her other hand reached toward him and pulled his sword from his scabbard. “One last trade. Please, it would ease my mind.”
As the hilt passed from her hand to his, he felt a kick of energy. But that energy didn’t compare to the exhilaration that swept through him when Clía’s lips met his. His every nerve lit up under her touch. If this was his last moment, he would go to Tír Síoraí with no regrets.
Just as swiftly as it began, she pulled back, but the emotions lingered in him in a swirling storm.
Clía’s face rested only inches from his. It took all his strength to not close that meager distance again.
Ronan tore himself away from her, and with one final glance, he followed Domhnall and Niamh back to the castle. He left his heart behind on the cliffs.
***
THEY MADE IT HALFWAY TO THE CASTLE BEFORERONANlooked back at Clía.
The distance made the scene unclear, but Ronan could see figures climbing up the cliff to join Kordislaen. She was outnumbered.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed this. Niamh grabbed him by his good arm, dragging him back. He hadn’t realized he’d taken several steps toward Clía.
“There’s having faith in someone, and then there’s setting them up to fail,” he said, but her glare froze him in place.
Her eyes softened as she looked at Clía. “She can handle them on her own, but that doesn’t mean she has to.” Niamh met his gaze once more. “You’re needed in the tunnels.”
With that, she turned back to the cliff’s edge.
Ronan was kept from standing in indecision by Domhnall, who pushed him into motion. “There’s no time for your pining.”
They ran to the castle together, paces matched as if they were back in training at the palace. “I’m not pining.”
“Of course.” Domhnall’s smirk sent a wave of irritation through Ronan, but it was a welcome feeling. Familiar. “Just like when you told me there was nothing between you and Clía.”
Ronan wanted to fight back, but he couldn’t find the words. “I never said there wasnothingbetween us.”
Domhnall scoffed. “Oh, so we’re being technical now?”
“I hate you.”
“I love you too.”
Before Ronan could argue anymore, they reached Caisleán. The warriors guarding the door let them in without question.
He allowed himself a brief moment to look the prince over. There was some damage to his armor, and Ronan could see the early signs of bruising on his face, but Domhnall was relatively fine.
