Chandi wrapped her arms around her torso as if holding herself together. “I can show you to the stable block where Finan is kept.”
“I know where the stables are,” I said, a little tartly.
She hung her head. “Of course you do.”
I wasn’t sure Chandi deserved my forgiveness—her betrayal had been a heartbreaking shock, and I didn’t know if I could ever trust her again. But I did know she didn’t deserve to be abandoned here, in the midst of all this death and violence, to suffer at Eala’s hands.
I had not been able to save Rogan from my sister’s clutches. And I did not have to be a queen to understand the value of mercy.
“But you can show me anyway,” I told her. “After all, you’re coming with us.”
Her head snapped up. “I am?”
“You can ride Finan.”
Another round of tears threatened to fall from her amber eyes. “But… why?”
“Twice now, I have left you behind in the heat of conflict,” I told her. “I will not do it a third time. But you will have to ride hard, and if it comes to blows, I am not sure we will be able to protect you.”
“I understand.” She nodded gravely. “Thank you, Fia.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” I gestured curtly. “Shall we?”
As we climbed the steps through pools of torchlight, I felt Irian watching me. I turned to him, lifting an eyebrow. But my husband was not frowning in disagreement. His expression verged on adoration—the flames catching in his silver eyes and transfiguring them to gold.
“The woman you are, mo chroí.” His smile, sweet and sharp, cut me to my core. “I never weary of following you to the most unexpected places.”
False dawn grayed the horizon. Cathair pressed the vial of Eternal Fire into my palm before he parted ways with us, reiterating its uses.
“We do not need it,” Irian said. “We have draigs.”
“How thrilling for you.” Cathair raised his eyebrows. “Take it anyway. Perhaps the Folk may be able to replicate the formula for the battle to come.”
Irian grunted, but I tucked it into the lining of my bodice nevertheless, next to the wrapped starstone.
Few guards stood watch in the cold, silent hours before dawn; fewer still were alive. I fought sorrow for the ones who were, as the Sky-Sword silently and brutally cleared our way toward Finan.
Any violence tonight was only the beginning.
We saddled the drowsy stallion. He moved too slowly. I cringed at the ringing clop of his hooves on the cobblestones, but there wasnothing to do about that but pray. I jimmied the infamously fickle lock on the postern gate—I’d snuck out of Rath na Mara a hundred times this way. The gate opened onto the steep rise to the west of the keep—our strange trio picked down the rocky slope as swiftly as we could manage without falling, leading Finan by his reins. Pink and gold dusted the horizon like flower pollen.
Too slow. The morning watch would soon change.
We were nearly to the shadow of the forest at the bottom of the hill when a lone figure burst from the palisade.
Irian and I—both keeping a steady watch behind us as we made for the woods—tensed. Irian had not sheathed the Sky-Sword—he lifted it now, ribboned with gore. But as I squinted into the morning, I saw it was Cathair again, betrayed by his graying hair and the glinting charms braided into it.
Then I saw what he was running from. Movement along the ramparts—a terrible lurching wave as undead soldiers pushed over the top of the wall. Movement near the postern gate—more revenants streaming through the narrow opening like ants. Movement at the main gates, the thunking of the bar lifting and the grinding of the doors opening and the hurried, ungainly tramping of a hundred boots on packed earth—
“Get her up!” I cried to Irian, panic making my voice shrill. He hoisted Chandi onto Finan’s saddle. The stallion stamped and sallied as the tall maiden gathered his reins, her fear seeping into the beast. “Go.” Then louder. “Go!”
“Colleen,” Irian growled.
“I must try to help him,” I bit out. Cathair was already faltering, his mad dash taking its toll on his middle-aged body. He was not a fit man—his talents lay in spheres other than the training yard. His earlier words to me rang in my ears:I believe in you.“I will catch up. Please!”
Chandi did not protest. She nudged Finan into an eager canter, weaving along the edge of the trees as she sped southeast.
Irian did not budge. “There is no time, mo chroí.” The deadsoldiers spilled over the top of the walls, slamming onto the hard ground before tottering back to their feet. They stomped through the gates with newborn sunlight glinting off their bloodstained armor. “I am sorry, but he is a dead man. We must run, lest we share the same fate.”
