“You grew up in this ideal, fake world,” she said, not unkindly. “Entire courts hanging on your every word, with every possible gown and jewel you could desire. You’ve grown since coming to Caisleán, but there’s still much for you to learn. This shell of naivety will one day crumble and you must hope you’ve prepared enough for that moment.”
Clía tried to push down the hurt that rose in her chest at Sarait’s words. Her parents’ and Domhnall’s doubt, she had grown numb to. But she thought Sárait understood her.
“I am not naive.” She kept her voice flat. “I have been abandoned by those I cared for. I have fought and struggled to get to where I am.”
Sárait shook her head. “You have, and I don’t mean to diminish that. I care about you, Clía, which is why I need to ask: What do you see happening when you leave Caisleán? You can’t stay here forever when war is threatening your home. One day, you’ll have to return to Álainndore, with what? A year of military training behind you and a war on your heels. Do you think your chiefs will take you seriously? Your parents?”
“They will. I’ve been updating Chief Ó Connor in my letters—we’ll be prepared for whatever Tinelann and Ionróir throw our way.”
“All I’m saying is that war seldom goes smoothly. When training, Ronan always stops his blade before it could ever leave a mark on you, but out there? There are people worse than any Otherworld beast, who are all too eager to see your blood spill.”
***
HER PARTNER FOR THE NIGHT PATROL WAS A CURADH, BASEDon the gleaming pin on his cloak. A man whose name she didn’t know, despite her asking him a total of three separate times in the past hour.
Which was fine. She didn’t need his company—or basic decency. She stared out into the dark waves breaking on theshoreline. To anyone unknowing, it looked like they were patrolling the beach, but in truth, they were guarding a hidden entrance to Caisleán. Off the shore, built into the Whispering Cliffs, was a passageway that led directly into the castle. An escape route designed when the castle still held royalty, so the inhabitants could escape if their warriors failed to hold the line outside the grounds.
It was one of Caisleán’s many closely guarded secrets.
It was also extremely dull.
The moon placed a celestial glow on the plant life around them, lighting the shoreline and the breaks of the waves. Where the light didn’t reach, there were only shadows and hidden depths.
Rocks clattered a few feet away from her. She turned in a panic, only to see a squirrel leap from its place on the cliffside, it’s white tail flashing as it scurried down the beach.
She pulled her hand away from the hilt of her sword, strapped to her side. She didn’t recall reaching for it. Her partner sent her a scathing glance.
***
HOURS PASSED LIKE YEARS AS SHE WAITED FOR HER SHIFTto end.
Clía might have developed a fondness for swordplay and battle, but marching around the same strip of land, staring into still shadows for the hope ofsomethinghappening, would never be for her. It gave her too much opportunity to think. Thinking was a dangerous hobby in the dead of night.
When she heard footsteps approaching from the tunnel—another guard sent to relieve her—she felt her exhaustion sink in all at once. If before she was merely holding herself above water, she now let the tide rush over her.
“Send the girl away,” the new voice called.
Stepping toward the path back to the castle, she ignored the burning in the pads of her feet. She was eager to go back to her bed—but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. Her silent partner.
“Go back inside through the tunnel.” He walked over to the entrance they were guarding, pulling a key from his belt and fitting it in a well-hidden lock. “Keep left until the tunnel splits into three paths, go down the farthest right, then continue straight until you reach the fifth lantern. There will be a door just ahead—that should let you out near the entrance to the eastern wing.”
“Thank you.” She nodded, trying to drill the directions into her memory as her partner pushed open the hidden door.
The tunnel was lined with cracked stone, winding and narrow. It had held up for centuries, but she still worried that this night could be its last.But, she thought to herself,this route will be shorter than a trek up the cliffs. Less time traveling in the dark, where anything can find you.
The mysterious—yet certainly brighter—tunnel suddenly seemed like a fantastic option.
She crouched, entering the passage and keeping close to the left wall. The ceiling hovered close above her head as she walked, until it eventually eased upward, allowing her to stand straight. A few lanterns granted sparse light between stretches of darkness.When she reached the three-way split in the paths, she chose the farthest right tunnel and continued on her way.
It was not the most comforting walk back into the castle, but her desire for sleep overcame any desire to live. Maybe there was a benefit to patrolling late hours; her brain started to malfunction in just the right ways.
At the fourth lantern, the tunnel forked. Her tired mind tried to remember the instructions. Was she supposed to turn after four or five?
She could explore down this turn, and if she was wrong, backtrack and try the fifth lantern.
Turning down the new tunnel, she let out a relieved sigh at the sight of a wooden door ten feet away. Opening it revealed a short staircase. After climbing it into the main castle, she found herself in a dimly lit hallway. From the various guarded doors around her, she could only assume she was in an unfamiliar part of the western wing.
As she made her way back to the daltas’ hall, a voice came from around the corner. She startled at the sudden noise, leaning against the wall to avoid being seen. As much as she had reason to be there, she wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone, let alone explain how she ended up in the wrong wing.
