The five of them looked at each other. Bloodied and bruised,but alive. Kordislaen’s trial had almost ended them; it did end one life. The onchú’s body lay discarded on the ground. Clía knew they couldn’t bury it, but still, it seemed wrong. They were told it had killed innocents, but then, it was a beast. It was only surviving. Should it be punished for following its nature?
Maybe that was why Kordislaen had sent them here, to teach them about death. To show them how questions and morality can fail when it’s your life on the line.
Or maybe it was just to weed out the weak.
The presence of the Ghostwood surrounding them weighed on Clía as they turned for home.
Chapter Twelve
Ronan didn’t let them stop until night fully fell. Every extra minute in the Ghostwood was a risk he didn’t want to take.
“Here,” he said, after finding a small clearing in the trees. It wasn’t big, but it was defendable. “Let’s make camp. We’ll move again at dawn.”
Domhnall lit a fire, and everyone else moved to set up their bedrolls.
Niamh tied the bulky bag with the onchú’s head to her belt, causing it to sag. When Ronan sent her a curious look, she glared back. “I’m not losing the one thing the general asked us to bring back.”
Ronan nodded. Her dedication was his mirror.
“Clía and I will take first watch,” Kían said once everything was unpacked. Ronan didn’t argue—he did promise the lísoir they could pick that night’s rotations. “Domhnall, you get second watch with Ó Faoláin. Niamh, you will be with me for the last round.”
There were no complaints, either from agreement or exhaustion, Ronan couldn’t tell.
He slipped into his bedroll and let sleep take him.
Kían’s voice brought him back. “Ronan. You’re up.”
Ronan nodded, forcing himself awake with a sigh. There was never enough time to sleep.
He gathered his sword and found a nice tree to lean against. The soft glow of the fire illuminated Domhnall as he picked a spot a few feet away. The clearing gave them a small sliver of sky, and he could see the moon where it hovered directly above them.
“You’ve been spending time with Clía.” Domhnall’s voice was a whisper, to not wake the others. “I saw you slip away with her yesterday morning.”
The insinuation was not lost on Ronan. He rolled his eyes. “I’m helping her with her training.”
“Because that’s a smart idea,” Domhnall scoffed.
“I think you lost your right to care what she does when you broke off your betrothal arrangements on your father’s word,” Ronan said, irritated by his friend’s attitude.
“He sees Clía as weak. Malleable.” Domhnall’s stare shifted to fix itself on the dirt. “I’ve known her all my life. She is—wasmy friend. The first I ever made. He would have crushed her beneath his hands.”
“Wait. What? You mean he didn’t ask you to break the agreement?” Ronan stared at Domhnall.
Domhnall’s head fell back against the tree. “Am I a horrible person?”
Ronan thought about it. “You broke her heart, prevented a treaty that could have benefited both kingdoms, and no doubt earned the ire of your father. I suppose the question of your horribleness would depend on your actual reason.”
“She would have been eaten alive in the Scáilcan court. I was protecting her.”
“Without giving her a say?” Anger burned in him, unfamiliar and unexplained. “Doesn’t she deserve a voice in deciding what’s best for her future?”
Domhnall’s reply was cut off by a noise breaking through the night. The flapping of wings. Louder and stronger than a bird’s.
Ronan bolted up, his heart pounding in his chest.
“The fire. We didn’tthink,” Domhnall cursed. “Smother it!”
They rushed to douse the flames, drowning it until only smoke remained.
