That was when he looked down and saw that she was holding the hilt of a dagger. Its blade was buried fully in his stomach, and his own blood shone the brightest red that he’d ever seen.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Death
Eithne had expected to be overflowing with rage when she finally plunged the dagger, which she had been hiding behind her back, into Rory MacDuff’s disgusting body. There was no rage. There was no sadness. There was only a cold, pure clarity as she realized what this was.
“Ye’ve murdered me,” Rory coughed, staring at her in wonder as he stumbled backward, her knife sliding out of him as he did. “Ye stupid slattern, ye’ve killed me!”
“It’s nae murder, Rory,” she said, her voice too calm, too even.
He put his hand to his stomach, staring at the blood on his fingers when he pulled them away. “Me healers…”
“Nay,” Eithne replied. She raised the knife again and brought it down, this time connecting with his chest. “It’s nae murder. It’s justice. The first was for Killian. That was for me mam.”
Therewas the rage. It hit her suddenly in a flare as he tried to push her away. She thought of her darling mother, her eyes staring wide open as Eithne held her. She remembered Killian and his laugh. She pictured her brave, beloved father…
Her knife flashed again, harder this time. “This is for me Faither!” she shouted.
Rory fell back, his blood pouring now, but she followed him down, unable to stop. Her knife flashed, stabbing into him again and again as she named them, her shouts becoming screams as she called their names.
“This is for me people! This is for Neal! This is for Callum’s parents, for Jonah’s faither, for me cousins who are both dead because of ye!” She cut into him, crying along with her screams now as he kept trying to fight her off, both of their hands slick with his blood.
Then it stopped. She leaned over him, their eyes meeting. He was still alive, still staring at her with hate. She raised the bloodied dagger, holding it to his throat. “And this,” she whispered. “Is for me.”
Rory’s eyes closed as if he had accepted his fate. Eithne pressed down, and her dagger slit his throat, ending his miserable life. It was more justice than he’d given to those people he’d left to bleed out from their wounds. It was more than he deserved.
And now Rory MacDuff was dead.
He was gone.
Eithne expected a rush of victory, but that didn’t come either. Instead, she moved away from Rory’s body, her naked body drenched in his blood. She backed up to the bed that used to be Killian’s, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around herself.
I won.
And she began to cry.
* * *
Ivor found his way to Killian’s room as quickly as he could, fighting every single person who got in his way with a power he hadn’t even known that he possessed. He tried not to kill where he could avoid it, but he could feel little mercy for these men now while Eithne’s screams still rang in his ears.
He got to the corridor and found that all of the guards had fled. He didn’t even stop to think of the implications of this as he barreled forward, bursting the door open.
A body lay there on the floor, covered in wounds, blood pooling around it. Rory MacDuff looked almost peaceful in death, sprawled on the floor.
Ivor stared at him for a moment, then heard the quiet sobbing.
Eithne sat huddled with her back against the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, a blanket around her shoulders. She was covered in blood and dust, and her lovely skin was pale underneath it all. She was naked under the blanket.
Ivor stepped over the body and moved toward her, gently kneeling beside her. He remembered his first kill outside of the heat of battle. It had been in defense of himself and others, it was true, and yet he’d been a gibbering wreck afterward.
“Eithne?” he said softly, putting his hand on her arm. “Can ye hear me?”
She looked up, more lucid than he had expected her to be. Her eyes focused on him, and she said, “Ivor. Am I a monster?”
“Nay,” he said firmly. “Nay. Why would ye think ye were?”
“I killed him,” Eithne replied, nodding to the still, bloodied figure in the corner. “I killed him, and I enjoyed it. I stabbed him over and over and over…”
