Page 12

Aemyra had slept fitfully after returning to the temple bearing the news of her failed Bonding attempt.

Draevan’s disappointed silence had been worse than the argument she had expected.

Hugging her knees to her chest as she sat on the top step outside the temple, Aemyra gazed across the bridge to the caisteal above the loch. Lone candles flickered in high windows and she wondered if Fiorean was behind one of them, plotting her demise.

Even the birds were silent at this hour, the bitter cold enough to have them burrowing deep into their nests. Scanning the skies, Aemyra prayed that Kolreath would return to his nest before the dawn and sighed when she saw no sign of the golden beast.

The lower town was dark as pitch and Aemyra squeezed her legs to her chest as her thoughts turned to her family. She had no choice but to try and Bond Kolreath again at the earliest opportunity.

A distant thud from the direction of the caisteal caught Aemyra’s attention and she squinted through the gloom. The temple provided an excellent vantage point, but it wasn’t until Kenna was halfway across the bridge that Aemyra recognized her.

Her sigh of relief was short-lived when she saw that Kenna was running, the light of the moon reflected on the calm surface of the loch far below the bridge.

The high priestess fled the caisteal as though Hela’s hounds were behind her.

Aemyra was on her feet in an instant. The guard on duty was dozing, slumped in his chair, and she shoved him forcefully in the breastplate.

His eyes flew open, armor clanking as he straightened, blinking.

“Get my father and awaken the guard,” Aemyra said urgently.

As he clanked into the temple, Aemyra sent up a fleeting prayer to Brigid to protect them all. Summoning fire to her palm, she saw that Kenna was across the bridge now, and Aemyra hastened down the steps.

“Get inside!” Kenna’s voice rang out across the wide street as she sprinted for the temple and Aemyra stumbled to a stop, blood chilling at the fear lacing the high priestess’s words.

Fire flickering in her palm, Aemyra peered through the darkness for any sign of a threat as Kenna drew closer to the temple.

She was level with the steps now, climbing the first few, stumbling on her crimson robes.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” Aemyra asked desperately, retreating back to the doors.

Out of breath, Kenna was unable to answer as she raced up the steps toward Aemyra. Extinguishing her fire, Aemyra reached for the high priestess, ready to drag her into the safety of the temple.

Kenna extended her hand, fingertips straining.

Aemyra heard the deadly whistle of the arrow a split second before Kenna fell.

“No!” she gasped, flinging herself to where the high priestess was now lying sprawled, arm outstretched toward the safety of the doors.

Knees smarting with the impact as Aemyra landed beside Kenna, she saw the arrow protruding from between Kenna’s shoulder blades and knew the high priestess was gone.

Before she could do anything else, Draevan sprinted out of the temple, Dorchadas already drawn.

“Get inside,” he barked, his keen eyes noting the arrow, the priestess, and Aemyra’s shaking hands in seconds.

Unable to register that Kenna was dead, that she had witnessed her murder, Aemyra failed to move.

“Inside. Now!” Draevan repeated, hauling Aemyra up by the scruff of her shirt and throwing her through the doors ahead of him.

Fighting to get control of her breathing as her father dragged Kenna’s body into the temple, she heard the golden doors close with a resonating thud.

The noise rising from the catacombs beneath her feet told Aemyra that Draevan had woken her soldiers.

“I need to find Eilidh,” Aemyra choked out through the thickness in her throat as she looked down at the body of the high priestess, who had been like a mother to Eilidh. “This news should come from me.”

Maeve clanked into the temple, heading directly toward Draevan. “We await your command.”

Aemyra didn’t bother to take offense that she was being overlooked in favor of her father, as she spotted a scroll clutched in Kenna’s hand.

Unfurling her fingers, Aemyra smoothed the parchment and her blood chilled as she read the words.

The Covenanters are here. I failed—K

“Father,” she said, her voice cutting clean across whatever Maeve had been saying as she extended the scroll.

Draevan’s expression hardened as his eyes scanned the words. Lips thinning, he looked down at Aemyra.

“Get your brother and make for the harbor.”

She was already shaking her head. “No. We must stay and fight.”

Maeve looked inclined to agree with Aemyra until Draevan took one threatening step forward. “The Covenanters are in Tìr Teine. If Katherine has been sequestering battalions of the army of the True Religion inside the caisteal, then we are done for.” He exchanged a glance with Maeve.

Still in shock, Aemyra worked to get her wits about her. “They are still just men! We have magic…you have a dragon—”

Draevan grabbed a fistful of Aemyra’s shirt and shoved her away from the door as several more arrows thumped into the wood.

“I will not condemn the innocent people of this city to dragonfire, nor will I endanger the priestesses more than we already have,” he said, a silent command dismissing Maeve immediately. “We leave and regroup.”

Aemyra unsheathed her own sword, runes scraping against the slice on her palm as a second volley of arrows rained down as a final warning.

“Kenna might have just saved our lives,” Draevan said, eyeing the scroll clutched in Aemyra’s hand.

Two hundred innocent priestesses lived in this temple, fifty Dùileach were at her disposal. If they could only hold the city long enough for her to Bond…

“Where is Gealach? If we wait fo—”

Draevan’s grim expression told her that she still had much to learn as priestesses poured into the temple to bar the doors and windows. Despite their closeness to the Goddess, few of them were Dùileach. Only half of them were trained fighters.

“Evander and Katherine will not harm the priestesses when they are no longer sheltering us,” he said firmly. “Get to the harbor. I will lead the Covenanters away from the temple.”

Without waiting to see if his daughter would follow his orders, Draevan melted away and Aemyra was left with no other option.

Sprinting back through the living quarters, Aemyra found that her brother was already awake and dressed for battle.

“For the love of Cailleach, Aems, what’s going on?” Adarian asked, blue eyes wide and crusted with sleep.

Sword hanging uselessly by her side, she willed herself not to break down. “Kenna is dead.”

Aemyra’s heart was pounding. She had known that claiming her throne would be dangerous, but she had expected to face her enemies head-on, not flee from them in the night.

Aemyra touched the bruised skin of her throat and knew the time for clemency was over. Fiorean had spared her in order to strike when the rest of the city was asleep. Hoping to slaughter them all in their beds.

“We must get out of the temple before we condemn the priestesses.”

Fear laced through her chest as she thought about what was happening. Fifty Dùileach were enough to stand against the city guards, but not the Covenanters. They weren’t even supposed to be in Tìr Teine.

Grabbing her brother’s hand, she hauled him down the corridor as he was still stringing his bow.

“Father?” Adarian asked.

“Already ahead of us,” Aemyra replied breathlessly.

If only she had Bonded Kolreath when she had the chance. If Fiorean and Evander hadn’t gotten in her way…

They ran down the staircase that led to the back door, the steps steep enough for her ankles to bark in protest.

As they emerged into the lightening dark, Aemyra skidded to a stop. Men wearing black armor with towers emblazoned on shields were advancing on the gate.

Flattening herself to the wall, she felt her own fear echo through her twin.

The temple was surrounded by Covenanters.

Adarian pulled the hood of Aemyra’s cloak up over her head, concealing her auburn hair.

She fought against him. “I will not flee before the dawn as though I am not the true heir to the throne.”

Suddenly, Adarian’s face was illuminated by a blast of magical fire. A cry went up from the Covenanters as they spotted Draevan and a group of Dùileach fleeing through the forest, away from the temple and the city.

They gave chase.

Adarian held her hood in place. “We have no choice, Aems. Father is no stranger to war. If he says we must retreat and regroup, then we need to trust him.”

Not giving her time to argue, Adarian launched into a headlong sprint down the steep sides of the hill, toward the gate, pulling her along with him. Flashes of magic and the clash of steel came from farther down the hill, but their way was clear.

“I will not cower like a fox before the hunt,” Aemyra said, drifting toward the sounds of battle.

Adarian’s hands clasped her face, pure fear in his eyes. “We will all die if we do not retreat. If there was any other way, Father would be here with us. Your Dùileach are only making a stand to give us a chance.”

Pulling away from her brother, Aemyra listened to the sounds of death coming from down the hill.

“I can’t do this, Adarian,” she whispered. “I won’t run from this.”

Her brother looked toward the lightening sky. “Father won’t wait. The ship will leave without us.”

She grabbed his arm. “I am the heir to the throne. He won’t leave without me.”

“The same cannot be said for his son,” Adarian muttered.

Aemyra narrowed her eyes. “Our father does not view us as expendable, and you know it.” As she spoke the words, she realized from his expression how badly Adarian wanted to believe her. “Father loves us. Albeit in his own way, but I will not fail the first task he has set out for me. I cannot.”

Adarian rubbed his face, his rough fingers rasping against the stubble on his jaw. “All right. Where do you think Kolreath is?”

Aemyra lifted her eyes toward the jagged mountain peaks. The dragon must have returned to his nest by now.

“Are you sure you can do this?” he asked.

Aemyra set her jaw. “Have I ever given you reason to doubt my skills before?”

“No. Just your common sense.”

“Well, I don’t think anyone who Bonds themselves to a dragon has much of that anyway.”

Not wasting any more time, Aemyra broke into a sprint, Adarian behind her. She could fix this. With Kolreath on her side, the Covenanters would be forced to lay down their weapons long enough for Gealach to arrive.

They raced through the gate, past startled sheep, and into the heart of the forest. Several times, Aemyra stumbled across tangled roots and Adarian’s strong grip was the only thing that kept her from falling.

The muscles of her thighs were straining with the steep ascent, breath steaming in the cool morning air like the mist that shrouded the surface of the loch bordering the city.

“All that planning for it to end like this?” Aemyra gasped as they ran.

Adarian shot her a pained look. “You still declared yourself in front of the people.”

“What good did it do?”

“They will not forget it.”

Aemyra cursed. She should have let Draevan run Katherine through with Dorchadas when he had the chance.

“Some welcome to the clan,” Adarian said, arms pumping.

Aemyra huffed a laugh. “We’ve always been part of the clan. Too bad we never seem to get to enjoy any of the perks.”

The forest was muddy underfoot and she had to focus on not slipping as they ran. She was soon gasping for breath as she tried to keep up with her long-legged brother.

“Not that way!” Aemyra called out as the dirt track the royals used for hunting came into view. “Careful!” she gasped, grabbing Adarian by the back of his shirt and pushing him down into the thicker foliage.

Just as they made it out of sight of the path, an arrow whizzed past her ear.

Fuck.

“Go! Faster!” she said, urging Adarian into a full-on sprint through the trees, barely avoiding a branch to the face.

Another arrow was shot, narrowly missing her shoulder. Adarian skidded to a stop as one buried itself in the mud beside his left foot. They were being herded.

“Turn back,” Adarian ground out as Aemyra barreled into the back of him, his solid weight almost knocking the breath out of her.

No fewer than a dozen guards were on horseback, their hooves churning up the ground and flinging great clods of earth out behind them.

Knowing they were outnumbered, Aemyra allowed her brother to push her back the way they had come. Bowstrings twanged, and Aemyra’s heart squeezed painfully every time she heard an arrow thud into a tree.

“There’s too many to fight,” Adarian panted, his eyes wide with fear even as he pulled his hammer from his belt mid-stride.

Aemyra reached out to grab her brother’s arm. “Not like that anyway.”

Understanding flashed in Adarian’s eyes and he dropped out of his run.

Turning to face the galloping horses, the twins held out their hands as the leader of the group eagerly drew his sword.

Summoning her magic, Aemyra felt the familiar surge of power through her veins, sparks crackling in her blood. The act of using her magic was so exhilarating that she was forever fighting against letting it burst forth from her.

Now she could.

Without words, Adarian loosed a roar that twinned with her own as they cast out a storm of wildfire toward the Covenanters. The rush of flames was deafening, trees creaking with heat as the sap emitted loud pops.

She saw fear ignite in their eyes a split second before her fire consumed them.

When Adarian’s magic drained, Aemyra kept her hands raised until the screams of dying men and horses ceased.

Letting go before she drained too much of her energy, Aemyra pushed her swaying brother downhill.

“There will be more Covenanters. Dragon later, boat now,” she said firmly.

Her lungs were burning from the smoke, and they had just lit a beacon in the forest that would guide everyone to their position. As she ran down the slope toward the other side of the city, Aemyra sent up a desperate plea to Beira to keep their feet swift.

As the lochside harbor came into view, thundering hoofbeats closed in on them.

There was only one Dùileach powerful enough to have summoned a shield to avoid being burned by the twins’ combined magic.

As they tore through the harbor, she looked over her shoulder and saw Fiorean astride a midnight black stallion, bowstring taut.

“To the left!” Aemyra shouted to Adarian just as the arrow flew past him. With the docks in sight, her brother began to slow.

“Don’t you dare!” she yelled. “Get on that ship!”

After such extensive use of their magic, Adarian was nearly drained.

Draevan’s face appeared over the side of the ship in response to her cry. His calculating eyes narrowed as he saw his children fleeing from Prince Fiorean.

The telltale whoosh of an arrow met Aemyra’s ears and she swerved to the right not a moment too soon. A flash of pain in her upper arm told her that Fiorean’s arrow had grazed her.

“Faster!” Draevan called, leaning over the rail to urge his children on.

The sound of hooves clattering on the cobblestones grew louder and Aemyra briefly wondered why the fuck Fiorean wasn’t on his dragon.

Adarian was hurrying up the wooden dock toward Draevan’s cries, his arms and legs pumping.

Knowing they couldn’t both outrun Fiorean, she skidded to a stop.

Turning her back on the docks, Aemyra unsheathed her sword. After all of these years, she was finally going to get to use it.

Instead of peppering her with arrows, Fiorean reined his horse in and flung his bow and quiver of arrows to the ground with a clatter.

“You clearly don’t understand how this works. When someone gives chase, you are supposed to run,” Fiorean said.

Aemyra thumbed the grooves in the hilt of her sword and rolled her shoulders.

“I’ve never been known to run from a fight,” she replied, flexing her wrist and swinging her sword. She didn’t dare summon her fire. Her only chance of winning against a Bonded Dùileach was fighting without magic, and she kept one eye on the sky in case his dragon decided to make a late entrance.

Steeling herself as Fiorean slipped from the back of his horse and brandished his own sword, she planted her feet.

“Let’s see how good you are without that fire of yours, shall we?” she taunted.

Glaring at her, Fiorean launched his attack, but she was ready for him. The first impact was always the worst, and it went through her right arm with a jolt that clacked her teeth together. Goddess, he was strong.

Parrying with all of her might, she managed to get beneath his thrust and pushed him back, their swords sliding across each other with a screech. Wrong-footing him, she swung for his nondominant side, managing to slice his tunic open just underneath his arm and he spun away from her, sword held defensively. He looked down at the small cut, eyebrows raised.

“Very good. You’re already better than I expected. But it’s going to take more than slicing me up like a piece of meat to best me.”

He redoubled his attacks, swinging for her head, then her chest, then her legs, forcing her to circle him backward, making her dizzy.

“Did you really think you could steal my brother’s throne from under his nose?” Fiorean asked.

Gasping for breath, she blocked another blow.

“I don’t see him here fighting to get it back,” she replied.

With a strikingly bold move, Fiorean swept his sword at her, and she was forced to duck into a rolling dive if she wanted to keep her head attached to her neck.

“Evander is a little busy at the moment,” Fiorean said.

Aemyra rose to her feet in just enough time to block his next blow. “With what? Draining the caisteal stores of Truvo’s best vintage?”

Fiorean bared his teeth as he swung for her again.

Fighting off his advances, she searched for any opening she could find, her mind scrambling to remember all of her lessons in swordplay. Finally, Aemyra was grateful for the years of bloodied noses and bruised ribs. Thanks to her father’s ruthlessness, he might be about to save her life.

“Your ship is leaving, Princess,” Fiorean taunted, spinning his sword in a lazy arc, in an attempt to make her turn around.

Aemyra didn’t dare, knowing Fiorean was only trying to get under her skin. As the last handful of Dùileach fought desperately to keep the Covenanters out of the harbor, Aemyra shouldered the burden of their sacrifice. The Covenanters wanted her dead so the Chosen could keep a male heir on the throne, and her Dùileach were dying to cover her retreat.

Aemyra screamed her rage into Fiorean’s face as she slashed with her sword, cutting clean through the leather buckles holding his tunic together. She didn’t even draw blood.

Her shoulders were burning from the repeated lifting of the sword, but she couldn’t give up. This wasn’t sparring practice, this was the real thing.

Fiorean wouldn’t stop until he had plunged that sword right into her heart.

And he looked like he would enjoy it.

The sound of wing beats reached her ears, and she almost dropped her sword in despair. Aervor was here.

Fiorean smirked and stepped back, pulling off the flapping tunic and dumping it at his feet beside the quiver of arrows. His black shirt billowed around his torso as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve.

Aemyra stumbled at the sudden distance, embarrassingly glad of the break. Until she risked a glance above them and saw the color of the dragon in the sky.

Glimmering golden scales reflected the sunrise.

“I told you my brother was otherwise occupied,” Fiorean said.

No.

Evander couldn’t have. An undeserving piece of shit like him could not possibly have claimed the last dragon. Because now…

Now her chances of Bonding were gone.

Furious at the injustice of it all, Aemyra decided that she was done playing fair. Rage pulsing through her veins like wildfire, she grew faster. Ducking under another swing of Fiorean’s sword, she twisted and pulled the dagger free of her belt with her left hand. Slashing upward, the blade followed the hilt directly toward the scars Fiorean always tried to keep hidden.

He reeled away from the weapon, his instinctual fear giving her the opening she needed.

Aemyra kicked him in the crotch, and he fell on all fours, gasping.

Having seen the weakness in his blade from the moment the box had been opened, she trapped his hand under one boot and stomped her heel on the crossguard.

The gold metalwork buckled immediately, severing from the steel with a satisfying clank. She flung the blade across the cobblestones as the wind from Kolreath’s wings whipped her hair around her head.

“Hate to say I told you so, but you should have come to me for a sword,” she spat.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see her father’s ship pulling farther away from the dock, the sails billowing toward safety. She prayed that Evander wouldn’t have the sense to go after it with Kolreath and set it to the torch.

Before Fiorean could recover, Aemyra reeled her leg back and delivered a hard kick to his jaw.

As he sprawled defenseless on the ground, she raised the dagger to his neck and grabbed a fistful of the auburn hair that was so like her own. Wrenching his head around, she beheld the scarred side of his face that nobody ever saw uncovered.

Glancing between the ridiculously bejeweled sword and the monstrous scar, Aemyra laughed.

“You really are a self-centered shit, aren’t you?” she hissed into his ear.

Before Fiorean could recover his strength, she slammed his head into the ground in front of her. She didn’t hear a crack, but his eyes turned glassy.

“I will feed you to my dragon,” he seethed, sounding like he was drunk.

She allowed herself a vicious smile as Kolreath landed, the ground beneath her feet shaking under the ancient creature’s weight.

Aemyra let go of Fiorean. “You do that, pet. Maybe your dragon would actually be able to best me in a fight.”

Looking at the giant garnet on the ground, Aemyra scooped it up and bounced it once in her palm. Fiorean cried aloud in sheer rage, rather than pain, as she held it up to the light. The wine-colored gem really was quite remarkable, but no substitute for the dragon she had just lost.

“It will remind me of how good your blood looks on my blade,” she said.

At that moment, Kolreath loosed a roar so loud that several windows exploded. It must have been a signal, because the caisteal bells began pealing and shouts rang out from the battlements circling the city, on the opposite bank of the loch.

The truce was officially over.

“Time for me to go,” Aemyra said, releasing him. With blood leaking from his head, Fiorean slumped against the cobblestones.

The sound of clanking armor reached her ears as Evander dismounted from his dragon. Obviously concern for his brother enough to stop him from asking Kolreath to incinerate her on the spot.

His first mistake.

Evander’s green eyes were glittering madly as he advanced, his fire unstable and swollen from his recent Bonding. Aemyra knew she had to get out of there, sharpish.

The ship was already several hundred meters away from the dock, sails disappearing into the mist. The loch was so large that she couldn’t see the other side.

Out of options, she sheathed her dagger and regrettably left her sword behind, before tearing for the water in a headlong sprint.

Tongues of fire followed her, but either Evander was a terrible shot, or the Goddess was still watching out for her, as they all went wide.

Nearing the end of the pier, Aemyra pumped her aching legs and pushed off the dock. Arching her back and throwing her arms above her head, she dove into the frigid waters of Loch Lorna.