Kordislaen’s gaze landed on Clía. She didn’t blink but nodded silently. Ronan hoped that was enough of an answer. Clía would not bow before the general anytime soon.
The general turned to the rest of the group. “Chief Ó Connor of Álainndore traveled here to offer his kingdom’s aid in our struggles. Recently, we received information from Chief Lyons about a scouting party he sent to the Tinelann border. It’s been a month, and they have yet to send word. We’re assuming they were either killed in battle or captured by Tinelann.”
“Has he sent any warriors to follow?” Niamh asked.
“Yes, two. One claimed to have found tracks indicating troop movement coming west from the coast. Possibly a hundred men.”
Domhnall leaned forward over the table. “How could so many have crossed into our lands undetected?”
Ó Connor spoke from his place beside Kordislaen. “Weren’t you preaching about how no kingdom was safe this past summer? You of all people should know that Scáilca is far from infallible.”
The prince’s eyes narrowed, and Kordislaen raised a hand to silence Domhnall before he could argue. “He’s right. There are weak spots in Scáilca’s patrols near the coast. Long stretchesof land that go unchecked, sometimes for days at a time. We change the patrolling schedule weekly to remain unpredictable, but if someone leaked the information to Tinelann, it would be easy for them to cross.”
Domhnall scoffed. “Are you implying we have a spy in our forces?”
“Ó Connor’s right,” Clía chimed in. “Scáilca is not immune to betrayal.”
“I sent a letter back to Chief Lyons with my concerns,” Kordislaen said. “However, while I await further word from him, I have a new mission. We must gather our own intel. Track the troop movements—if they indeed are there—and find out the whereabouts of our warriors. Lyons sent more than a dozen people in that mission, and they were overtaken. I can only spare half that. If Tinelann troops are indeed moving southeast, then we may have to hold down the front until help arrives. We’ll need all the warriors we have in the keep.
“For the mission, I’ve chosen to send Ó Dálaigh, Dornáin, MacCraith, Morrigan, Fionnáin, and Ó Faoláin.”
Emotion warred in Ronan. Pride. Exhilaration. Anxiety.
He was finally going in the field again. Clía straightened beside him, no doubt enticed by the opportunity to prove her skills on a real mission.
But they were being sent into dangerous territory, where warriors had been lost before. The odds were against them.
Commander Ó Dálaigh spoke from the opposite end of the table. “Sir, you’re sending multiple warriors who have only barely finished their training on a crucial mission.” It wasn’t a question.
“I am aware of whom I chose, Commander. I have faith they are well equipped for this journey.”
***
THEY WERE TO BE READY TO DEPART AT DAWN TOMORROW. There was no time to waste.
Niamh, Domhnall, Clía, and Ronan all walked together without saying a word. There had seemed to be a fragile rope tying them together since that morning. Ronan didn’t want to test its strength.
He packed his travel bag quickly, with only the necessities, before making his way to Clía’s room.
His knock was soft against the door. When Clía opened it, he first noticed her hair, flowing around her in a halo of gold. Her eyes were wide—he could practically see the thoughts racing behind them.
Behind her, her room was a mess. Normally, that wouldn’t surprise him, but this chaos had to stem from something. Clothes covered every surface. A travel bag lay in the middle of the floor, half filled with clothes.
Clía let him pass, and he silently got to work helping her organize everything.
“I can do this on my own,” she insisted, as he helped secure her bedroll.
“That doesn’t mean you have to.” As he spoke, he didn’t think about the words he was saying, and how badly he knew he needed to hear them himself.
Together, they finished packing. Durable and comfortable clothes, leather straps and pins to hold her hair out of her face,gloves and a warm cloak, and of course some powder and lotion. Ronan knew better than to question those additions. He could almost hear her voice in his head:“I’m already risking my life; if I don’t pamper myself a little, then I would just be miserableandin danger.”
Murphy snored in the corner of her room. He eyed the beast warily, but when he tucked his nose under his paw, Ronan couldn’t deny it was cute. He hoped the creature would be okay while they were gone; Clía had mentioned he could handle himself, but Ronan doubted how independent the pup could be when he rested on a pile of pillows and blankets.
Between Murphy and Clía’s lumpy mattress, Camhaoir leaned against the wall.
It had been a week since Ronan gave it to her, and he’d yet to see her use it. The blade was exceptional, the edge sharper than anything in the armory. The hilt was a thing of beauty, something he thought she might admire. As fine as the art of Álainndore. The Diamhair crystal glimmered in its gold bed. Clía reached forward to grab the sword, resting it beside her pack.
The silence in the room rang in Ronan’s ears. He wanted to break it, but he didn’t know how. Everything was delicate between them.
