Page 32 of Princess of Elm (Warriors of the Fianna #4)

“R isky” did not begin to cover the incredible danger of Astrid’s plan. Bold and clever, aye. But so many things could go wrong, and all of them put lives at risk—Duncan’s in particular.

The despair of his last conversation with Astrid yet crushed him, but Cormac pushed it out of his mind.

He knew she could never forgive him for battling Sitric.

Even if she did, there would always be a rift between them—his oath to Brian.

No matter how much she loved him, he didn’t expect her to betray her family any more than he could his.

Fate, it seemed, conspired against them at every turn.

Cormac’s mind raced as he urged his horse up the steep hill to the top of the cliff. They needed to get to Cahill with all speed so that Astrid had enough time to enact her plan without him noticing.

They were the distraction.

The Fianna arrived first, as planned, to draw Cahill’s attention away from the harbor while Brian and his guards made their way up to bargain with Cahill.

It was the same promontory where Astrid took him to watch the Northern Lights dance across the sky—a memory he held dear in spite of its bittersweet ending. The cloudy afternoon cast a grey pall over the clifftop, the trampled grass and littering of stones and bare earth as gloomy as Cormac’s mood.

Cahill’s men stood nearest, forming a line to protect Cahill, Teague, and Duncan, who perched far too close to the cliff’s rugged edge.

It was a steep fall, but not so high that the distance alone might kill a man.

The rocks that jutted out along the cliff and those hidden beneath the sea, however, were deadly.

“You’re not a villain,” Cormac called to his father. “You won’t kill a boy.”

The Fianna dismounted, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in a line that faced Cahill’s men.

It would be an easy fight—hardly a battle—but it put Duncan’s life at too great a risk to simply attack.

Cormac wanted to believe that whatever their disagreement, his father wouldn’t actually harm young Duncan, but it wasn’t a risk he was prepared to take.

That trust had been shattered the day Cahill turned his back on his children.

“Hostages are a part of war,” Cahill called back. “As are casualties.”

Cormac didn’t much care for that answer. “What game do you play, then? Hostages always serve a purpose.”

“All I require is Brian’s oath of loyalty to Malachy and a guarantee of peace. Where is he?”

“He’s on his way.” Cormac couldn’t let Cahill turn behind him, else he’d see Astrid and Sitric hard at work, ruining their plan. It all hinged on the element of surprise. If they lost that, they may lose Duncan.

“Is this why you came?” Cormac shouted angrily. “To capture a boy?”

“I came to ally with Sitric,” Cahill spat, “but that proved a fruitless endeavor. The boy is the next best option. Better, even, if it stops all this battling.”

“You could stop fighting, you know,” Conan growled. “You invade Mumhain as often as we retaliate.”

Hoofs sounded behind them as Brian and his guards appeared behind the Fianna. Brian’s eyes blazed in fury as he took in the sight before him.

“Give me my son, Cahill,” he demanded.

“I could say the same thrice over,” Cahill shot back. “You stole three of my sons and my only daughter. It seems fitting I should take one of your children.”

“You abandoned us!” Cormac knew he should stay silent and let Brian negotiate, but his heart hammered in outrage. “You disowned us—your own children. You cast us aside without even the courtesy of a conversation.”

“I told you to come with me. You refused. I left.” Cahill shrugged. “What would you have had me do?”

“We were still of fostering age, and I’d spent the past seven years with Brian. Of course I would choose to stay. I hardly remembered life in Connachta.”

“You wish you’d chosen differently then, boy? Is that it?” Cahill smirked. “Swear your oath to Malachy and I will take you back.”

Cormac’s fists clenched at his sides. Why had he wasted so many years angry with this man? Swallowing his anger, he shook his head, feeling so much like the boy he’d been that night so long ago.

“No, you’re right,” he managed. “There’s no sense in anger unless I would change the outcome.” He looked his father dead in the eyes. “And I would not.”

A weight lifted from Cormac, his breath light in his chest. He’d made the right choice then, even though he’d been so young. And he’d make it again every chance he got. He needn’t feel guilty over robbing his brothers of a father. He should be proud that he found them a better one.

“Enough of this,” Cahill snarled. “Brian, you must make your decision. Will you take your oath or will you take your son’s life?”

Brian hesitated, and for good reason. They’d stalled nearly as long as they could, but Astrid had yet to give the signal that they were ready. If the sails weren’t in place, he and Duncan would hit the rocks when they went over the edge.

“What is your plan?” Cormac called, trying to bait his father and distract him longer. “Whatever happens, you’re surrounded and you’ve threatened the life of the Prince of Mumhain. How do you imagine this will end?”

Cahill narrowed his eyes, but held his tongue.

“Brian,” Cahill hissed, “this is between you and me. Answer me. Your oath or your son. No more of this nonsense.”

“Let us duel,” Conan offered. “You may choose any of us to fight any of your men. We’ll solve it without endangering a boy.”

Cormac allowed himself a small smile when Duncan rolled his eyes, scowling. He hated being called a child, and apparently his life being threatened didn’t change his reaction to it. His smile lasted only a moment, though, for his worries far outshadowed his amusement.

Astrid still hadn’t given the signal.

And they were just about out of time.

“Something’s going on here,” Cahill grumbled. He took a step backward.

One of Brian’s guards gasped behind them.

Cahill glanced over the cliff’s edge, and Cormac knew it was over. A catlike grin spread across his father’s face as he walked farther from the edge. “I see,” he cooed. “You thought I would push him, did you?”

The blood rushed through Cormac’s ears, a pulsing whoosh that blocked out all thought. He watched as Cahill motioned Teague over.

As Teague pulled his dagger.

And hesitated.

Cormac did the only thing he could—he charged.

He reached Duncan a moment before Teague, who grabbed hold of Cormac to try to stop him.

But Cormac wasn’t trying to steal Duncan.

Instead of battling Teague, Cormac kept running until he no longer felt the earth beneath his feet, holding Duncan to his chest as they fell from the cliff.