Page 40

CHAPTER 40

Not again.

Not Avi.

A high-pitched ringing pierced Elva’s ears, and she coughed as debris rained down on her.

She rolled to her side and sat up, her vision clearing.

The rowan tree was gone, ash and embers floating in the breeze, decorating the ground like glittering fish washed ashore.

A keening sound ripped from her throat as she crawled over to Avi.

His chest was stained with ruby, eyes wide and glassy.

Minutes passed.

Or was it years?

Avi is – was – Ever Blessed .

How did I miss it?

What else have I missed?

Her thoughts slammed into one another, chaos unhinged: He needs a proper burial, a warrior’s burial —

Voices began shouting and her pulse of knowing roared to life.

She leaned down to close his eyes and grabbed his hand in farewell.

A small lump broke their contact, and the stone fell into her palm.

She stuffed it in her pocket, urgency increasing every second, and touched her brow to his.

‘Guided by Ever, grounded by valour. If one calls, we all follow. Until the Ending takes us.’

Air whooshed from her lungs as a person grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her away.

She struggled against the stranger’s grip, head throbbing in time with her pulse, voice raw from screaming.

It was only when she saw it was Lonn that she stopped thrashing and finally looked at what he had pulled her away from.

A ring of silver flames was approaching Avi’s body, fuelled by two warring figures.

Advisor Gudren was on the ground, his face burned and bloody from the explosion.

Fyn, no – Tassos – stood above him, blood seeping down his arms as the air around him crackled with the danann’s Ever.

Sparks of silver light erupted from his skin, feeding the fire around them.

‘Caius will destroy you, Tassos,’ Advisor Gudren said, blood dripping from his nose.

She could have sworn the white strip of his hair grew, the pigmentation leaching as Tassos prowled closer.

There was something unnatural in the way he moved.

She reached inside to pull at the tug, hoping the tether would shake him out of this trance, but found nothing.

‘Fynton, if you’re listening, do as you’re told.

Stand down.

’ Advisor Gudren’s voice rang with power, but Tassos didn’t flinch.

‘The Seacht doesn’t want you, we want him.

Come with us and we will free you from his unholy possession.

’

‘You have already told Caius what you know, have you not?’ The voice that rang from Fyn’s mouth wasn’t his own, it was deeper, full of pain.

Advisor Gudren snarled, ‘How did you manage to exist right under our nose?’

‘You mean your nose?’ Tassos responded.

‘Perhaps your skills of observation are not as refined as your skills for gossip, Gudren.’

Advisor Gudren leered, revealing a missing tooth.

‘I should have killed your mother years before. It’s unfortunate your father had such an affinity for her.

’

Tassos smiled with Fyn’s lips, and Elva wanted to scream at the unfamiliar expression.

Everything about him looked and sounded different.

She could hear Lonn’s ragged breathing next to her, feel the heat of the encroaching fire.

Her knowing screamed at her, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the man before her.

‘Fynton, if you do not behave I cannot promise leniency. We know it was not your choice to shelter the traitor, however, we do not need you conscious to keep Tassos tethered to this realm.’ Advisor Gudren unleashed a rope of Ever, sending it shooting directly at Fyn’s chest but Tassos waved his hand and the magic scattered, a wave against an unmoving cliff.

Advisor Gudren’s face blanched, white pallor creeping to match the streak in his hair.

She felt him pull for his Ever, but the magic shuddered, a visceral recoil that left the air tasting sour, and for the first time the advisor looked genuinely alarmed.

Tassos’ unhinged grin spread even wider.

‘Your kind has forgotten so much in your greedy pursuit for conquest.’ His finger traced a symbol in the air, and a silver flash of light exploded from his hand, wrapping Advisor Gudren in its brilliant light.

The advisor screamed, and the echo of his voice throbbed in her head, as if he were grasping at the limit of his powers.

Even encased, he continued to pull for Ever, and she could see Fyn’s body start to wobble, the exertion growing more and more as he kept Advisor Gudren trapped.

The amount of magic they were pulling was unfathomable, and it made her teeth ache, her eyes water.

Do it now.

NOW!

a voice roared in her head, breaking her freeze.

She spun and grabbed the sword from Lonn’s sheath in one easy movement.

She could hear Lonn bellow behind her, but she was already sprinting across the clearing, racing into the ring of flames as Advisor Gudren thrashed against Tassos’ magic.

Tassos didn’t blink as she approached, just increased his pull of magic until it felt like she was wading in the shallows.

Her breath was static, mind near incoherent, and yet she ran.

The demigod never saw her coming.

She raced through the flames, lunging as she thrust the sword into his guts, twisting to rip open his back in a waterfall of blood.

Advisor Gudren gasped, his words lost to the pounding in her head.

He fell to the ground in slow motion, convulsing once – twice – his lips moving silently as Elva stabbed him again, raking the sword across his neck until, finally, he fell still.

‘Fyn?’ Elva asked.

It was Tassos who stared back at her, the silver flames of his Ever still singeing the grass.

Their gazes clashed and the tug pulled, ripping her chest in blinding pain.

Holyfuckinggods , was Tassos going to kill her?

No – No —

‘Fyn!’ she bellowed, the swell of pain increasing.

‘Fyn, you need to stop him!’ Her chest felt like it might split in half, it was only sheer will that forced her to stay upright, to keep talking.

‘Fyn, you need to come back.’ She didn’t know if he could even hear her, but she didn’t know what else to do.

‘Let him go, Fyn. Lethimgo! ’ The tug yanked her forwards and she fell, sprawling as the sensation ripped through her body, splitting, ending—

And then—

Nothing.

Tassos blinked.

Brown began flickering in Fyn’s eyes until the wash of colour turned hazel, and the man before her was no longer Tassos, but Fyn.

Her Fyn.

Their gazes clashed and he took a small step towards her, knees buckling before he crashed to the ground.

Her feet slipped in pools of blood as she raced to him.

Lonn was faster, and he picked up Fyn’s body with a grunt.

She skidded to a stop, her fingers reaching to check his pulse.

When she felt the familiar thump of life she let go a gasping breath.

Her hand shook as she covered her mouth to stop a whimper from escaping.

‘What do we do now?’ Lonn asked.

His face was red with dried blood, but he held Fyn upright, eyes scanning the clearing as flames continued licking at the trees.

She didn’t respond because she didn’t know.

Fyn was Tassos.

No, Tassos was Fyn?

Or in Fyn?

And they had just killed the Voice of the Seacht.

And Mystic Agnes – Mystic Agnes was an Ellarch loyalist?

Except she’d still wanted to kill Fyn to release Tassos, which meant everyone was after them.

And Avi was Ever Blessed, oh gods.

She stared at Lonn, unsure what the hell they should do.

Footsteps crashed to her right and she spun, lifting the bloody sword in the direction of the noise.

The Seacht had already found them.

Except it wasn’t a demigod who appeared through the smoke, but Oriann.

‘What’s happening?

Avi left and said not to follow but.

.

.

’ She glanced around the clearing, her gaze landing on the fallen figures.

She took a step towards Avi’s body, then crumpled, her hands covering her face as a wail erupted.

Elva ran to her, dropping the sword as she grabbed the woman’s shoulders.

‘Look at me, Oriann, you’re okay.

It’s going to be okay,’ she heard herself say, knowing full well it wasn’t.

‘Take a breath with me, in and out, in and out. Your breath is an anchor against the storm. Use it.’ Oriann looked at her, eyes glassy as tears streamed down her face, but she took a shuddering breath, and another.

Elva’s mind reeled, but she ignored the bells of grief.

She couldn’t crumple, not yet.

‘How?’ Oriann asked when her body stopped shaking.

‘Advisor Gudren.’

Oriann snarled, lunging to her feet.

‘He’s dead, Oriann.

’ Elva’s words were short and to the point – she didn’t have anything else left to give.

Her friend’s secret left a hollow cavity in her chest.

She knew it was unfair, hell, it was downright hypocritical, but anger was easier to navigate than the shock of grief.

‘Why?’

Elva glanced at Lonn.

He stood with Fyn draped across one shoulder, eyes trained on Oriann.

Elva didn’t know where Oriann stood in any of this, so she chose her next words carefully.

‘If we tell you any details, then you won’t be able to honestly tell King Dermont you know nothing.

’

Oriann’s face paled and Lonn exhaled, one hand reaching up to bless himself with the diamond.

Oriann looked between them, confusion clouding her expression.

‘We need to leave,’ Elva said.

‘What?’

Elva ran towards Lonn, grabbing the discarded sword as she moved.

‘The Seacht have been warned, we need to leave right now. ’

Lonn gaped at her.

‘We’re not making it down the mountain unnoticed.

’

Elva turned to him.

‘Why not?’

Lonn glared at her.

‘They’re going to be combing the hills looking for us.

You don’t think you can kidnap the Crown Prince of Clochain, do you?

’

‘Kidnap him? You saw what happened, Lonn. He’s a dead man walking if we stay.

We all are.

’

Lonn glanced at her, the muscles in his forearms twitching.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.

’

She took a breath, willing herself to have grace, to find a single ounce of patience in her injured, aching body for this blindly devout man.

‘There’s a campsite not too far from here,’ Oriann said, looking between them.

‘They’ll find us at a campsite,’ Lonn snapped.

His breath came in fast bellows, and the crazed look in his eyes matched how Elva felt.

Oriann bit her lip and glanced at Avi, tears welling before she shook her head and faced Elva.

‘It’s an Ellarch campsite.

The Seacht don’t know about it.

’

Elva stared at Oriann.

Of course she was an Ellarch loyalist.

Lonn blessed himself again.

‘You can’t trust the Ellarch, Your Highness!

You saw what Mystic Agnes tried to do—’

She raised her hand to stop Lonn talking, her mind racing.

The Ellarch clearly weren’t any better than the Seacht – their hands were stained with the blood of the massacres – but Oriann didn’t know Tassos had returned, and Mystic Agnes didn’t have the gift of the Voice, so she wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone that Tassos was alive before she met her Ending.

If the campsite gave them even an hour to regroup, then it would be worth it.

She stared at Oriann.

‘Why?’

Oriann’s lip curled, half-smile, half-grimace.

‘I’m not going to tell you for the same reason you won’t tell me what happened.

’

‘Will you come with us?’ The words burst forth before Elva could stop them.

Lonn swore, but it was Oriann who slowly shook her head and said, ‘No.’

‘Why not?’

Oriann’s look verged on the edge of feral.

‘Because I have unfinished business in Cailoch.’

The two women stared at each other, the grief and anger between them thick, before Elva raised two fingers to her brow and dipped her head.

She wished she knew more about Oriann – more about Avi and the life he had lived in Clochain.

She didn’t know what made Oriann offer them grace, but her need overrode any hesitation she had.

‘Where’s the campsite?

’

‘Your Highness – Elva – we can’t risk—’ Lonn spluttered.

‘I appreciate you have a different set of beliefs than I do, Lonn, and if you want to leave and return to your life in Cailoch, I won’t stop you.

But we are caught in the middle of something we don’t understand, and I am not risking Fyn’s life so you can return and pretend everything is fine, because everything is not fucking fine!

’ Birds rose in flight as her shout echoed around the clearing.

Lonn’s face paled, and one hand went to the prayer stones around his neck, his fingers worrying familiar circles in the beads.

He looked at Fyn, draped over his shoulder.

‘My duty lies with Fynton.’

Elva loosened a breath and tried not to let her surprise show as she turned to Oriann.

‘Tell us where to go.’

Elva woke with a start, trying to place the heavy weight on her stomach.

It was Fyn’s arm, she vaguely remembered curling into him when nightmares had torn at her subconscious.

Lonn slept at the mouth of the cave, blocking the entrance to those who may be on their trail.

They’d left Oriann’s Ellarch campsite as soon as Fyn had woken, stumbling blindly down the mountain as they tried to navigate towards Vettona’s border.

She knew of a warrior safehouse on the outskirts of Anfa, she just hoped they would make it.

‘Are you awake?’ Fyn’s voice was raspy and she squeezed her eyes shut.

She didn’t know if she wanted to be awake yet.

Not when there was so much to discuss.

The tug pulled at her ribcage lightly, and she blinked her eyes open to look at him.

Flecks of silver gazed back, but they were muted, and the warm brown she had come to love shone through.

She stared up at him, drinking in the lush lines of his mouth, the arch of his brows.

‘I don’t know where to begin,’ she said quietly.

‘Neither do I.’ His hand caressed her hair in long strokes, and she sighed, the soft pressure on her scalp a balm against the throb in her temples.

The tug between them sparked and a sigh rumbled from his chest.

Her body grew warm at the sound and yearning flooded her.

She sat upright, and caressed his face as his hand wrapped through her hair, bringing their lips together in a blinding kiss.

His other hand moved to grip her waist, and he pulled her onto his lap.

Elva snuggled in, the hard lines of his chest warm and inviting.

The kiss deepened and she lost herself in the sweep of his tongue, of the fire that roared to life between her legs.

Desperation pulled at her; she wanted to stay here forever and forget all their problems.

She pulled away.

‘Is this you? Or is this Tassos?’

Fyn stilled.

She took a quick breath, and then another, psyching herself up to ask the question she didn’t want to know the answer to.

‘The tug... is it you or is it him ?’

He closed his eyes and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist.

‘I don’t know,’ he said quietly, running a hand through her hair, his words skimming her sensitive skin.

‘I want it to be me.’

‘I want it to be you, too,’ she said, forcing back tears.

He brought his lips to hers again and kissed her gently.

The touch was a promise, and Elva squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she was in for a world of hurt.

Because she was falling for the man before her; she just didn’t know if that man was Fyn, Crown Prince of Clochain, or Tassos, the Heir of the Danann – and she didn’t know how any of them would survive going against the Ellarch.

Or the Seacht.

Please have mercy , she prayed to Rivalin.

Grant us the gift of foresight so that we might stand a chance against what is to come.

She could have sworn somewhere, someone laughed.