“I will indeed grant your father mercy and accept your loyalty. Instead of a traitor’s death, he will be beheaded. Death will come in one swift blow.”
She stared at the gleaming sword in Killian’s hand. The High King was testing his son’s loyalty and obedience. If Killian refused to kill her father, then he would be accused as a traitor.
But if he obeyed, all was lost.
Don’t do this, she pleaded silently. The tears fell down, and she rose from her knees, not knowing what to do.
She moved toward Killian, her heart breaking into pieces. She had given this man everything, believing in him. He had sworn that he would do everything to protect her father.
“Please,” she said to Killian, dropping to her knees before him. Though she could not shield Devlin, it was the only thing left she could do. “Don’t, Killian. I beg of you.”
He did look at her then, but his eyes were frosted and cold. Gone was the man who had loved her at night, who had taken away her fears. No longer did she see the man who had ridden by her side, journeying with her to this place.
And she knew. God help her, she knew that he would carry out this death sentence. The tears flowed freely, and she could not bear it when he stepped past her, his sword raised.
Then he lifted his weapon and struck.
Chapter Thirteen
His sword bit through flesh and bone, and Killian slashed down the assassin who had come up behind the High King. The blade fell from the soldier’s hand, the man staring back at Rory with sightless eyes.
He had moved on instinct, seeing the flash of the sword behind his father. He’d suspected that the Normans were here among them, waiting for the right moment to attack. And just as he’d predicted, other men charged forward, their weapons drawn.
“Stay down!” he commanded Taryn, moving in front of her. He gave the sword back to Rory and seized another from one of the guards. The fighting broke loose all around them, and Rory Ó Connor struck down another assailant.
Devlin lay upon the ground, still breathing, but motionless so as not to attract attention. Killian didn’t know where all the men had come from, but it was clear that their intent was to overthrow the Ard-Righ. They must have hidden themselves among thefuidirfor months now, to escape anyone’s notice.
His mind blurred with the haze of battle, and he swung his sword hard, the blade clanging against metal. More soldiers arrived on horseback, and it was difficult to tell which men were enemies or allies. Though outwardly, it might appear that he was defending the High King, the truth was, he was fighting for Taryn. He would let no man threaten her.
Though he knew he should force Taryn to go into hiding, he suspected there could be more men lying in wait. But if he kept her with him, the danger would be even greater. He had to get her away from the fighting and fast. If he helped her escape to her mother’s camp, that would be the safest place.
Luck was on his side, for he saw Maeve and her men across the terrain. The Queen was riding toward them, surrounded by her own guards.
He guided Taryn to stand by the stone chair. “You need to reach your mother and her men. She will get you to safety. I will protect you along the way, but we have to go now.”
Her eyes welled up with unshed tears. “Were you going to kill my father?”
He gripped her hand and met her gaze. “I would never do anything to hurt you,a mhuírnín.”
She gave a slight nod, squeezing his hand in return. Though her fear had not diminished, it did seem that she believed him. “Promise me you’ll be careful,” she murmured. Her long black hair was windblown, her blue eyes sharp with worry. Both of them knew that his chances of survival were slim, for he was well outnumbered.
“I have a reason to live,” he insisted. “And someone to fight for.”
She nodded and said, “I love you, Killian.”
The words were an invisible embrace, encircling his spirit. He kissed her roughly, and then Maeve drew her horse to a stopnearby. The fighting had shifted in another direction, and Killian saw an opening to bring Taryn to the Queen.
“Keep close to me,” he commanded, guiding her toward the outskirts. She gripped his hand, and her fingers were icy cold from fear.
But the moment they were nearly there, four men charged forward, their weapons drawn.
“Killian!” Taryn called out in warning, and he released her hand, unsheathing his dagger.
“You have to go. Now!” he ordered, and she obeyed without question. He lost sight of her, forced to concentrate on the men surrounding him.Let her reach Maeve safely, he prayed silently.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his body responding from years of training. Time slowed down to a fragile breath of air, and he no longer heard the sounds of battle. He had become frozen, his soul lost, as his blade twisted within men’s flesh. He moved like a shadow, his sword weaving a path through the enemy.
Some of the MacEgan soldiers came to his aid, and with their help, Killian defeated the Normans. His muscles ached, but he forged on, searching for a glimpse of Taryn. He needed to see that she was safe, but there was no sign of her among the people.
