Page 24

Chapter 20 ~ Falling in Place

Dàibhid

The Shadow Swords were set to leave in two days.

Two days before they could be sent into a death pit, and I wouldn’t be there to help them.

Once I’d accepted the reality that stronger offensive measures—sanctioned violence, as Brí would put it—may be required, my biggest issue was not being able to go with them. It felt more wrong this time to send them out while I stayed behind the capital’s walls. It had been hard enough the first time, but they hadn’t been my friends then, and my sister hadn’t been with them. Sending them without me now was unbearable.

But it would be harder for the plan to work if I left, and this needed to go as smoothly as possible. Somehow, I’d have to live with that.

Not that that would stop me from worrying the entire time they were gone. Perhaps if I went, I could prevent something bad from happening. Ensure they all came home.

Even if that was one of the more illogical things I’d come up with.

But planning had gone well, and the Shadow Swords all had confidence in it. They liked my concept for getting into Tírdorcha, but Rígan was positively ecstatic. While the last mission had involved a little acting, this one would call for more. She’d cackled when I suggested she go undercover as a grieving widow. A challenge , she’d said. What I wouldn’t give to see that in action.

Until then, the team spent every moment training, sharpening their skills as a unit. That was what I was currently watching, staring out the window of my study. Their forms were spot-on, and Rígan, Lou, and Maya worked off each other seamlessly. áine and Brí seemed decent at working together, as did Lou and Brí, but everything else was hit and miss. Bryn because she wasn’t used to this sort of dynamic, so I couldn’t blame her. But the five others didn’t always coordinate well as a complete group.

It didn’t help my nerves. My foot bounced in time with the clashes of their swords, thrumming a disquieting tattoo on the rug.

A rap on the door pulled me from the session, and I turned to find Thomas. He took a spot at the window, thick gray clouds rolling in, and watched the team for a minute before speaking.

“They look . . . good.”

“You hesitated.”

“I promise, I tried not to.” He scratched at his beard. “They’re not bad. They’re actually quite good. But they need to communicate better.”

As if on cue, Brí pivoted contrary to what Maya evidently needed for her foot combination to work. Thomas and I winced while Maya stumbled and Brí almost fell on her ass. Maya threw her arms in the air and Brí’s expression turned sour. Rígan stepped forward, ready to defend Maya. Bryn put herself between them all, hands raised like she was approaching wild animals, no doubt trying to smooth things over. It wasn’t the first time she’d taken that role within the group.

I walked away so I wouldn’t have to see the argument. Even with Bryn’s intervention, Brí’s nerves would be close to their limit. But eventually, everyone would separate to cool down, something they wouldn’t be able to do in Tírdorcha.

“We don’t exactly have time for them to improve that skill.” I poured a cup of tea from the kettle over the fire, forcing my hand to remain steady.

“No, we don’t.” Thomas clapped a broad hand on my shoulder, the weight a comfort. “But what they have will be enough. They’ll work out the rest when they’re on the ground.”

I took a long drink, letting the soothing mint act as a balm. I had to believe they could manage. That they would all come back to me.

The following night, the night before the Swords were set to leave, the seven of us sat by the fire in the royal apartments’ sitting room. áine interacted with us only when she felt like it, her focus on the daggers she was sharpening. Brí had claimed her own chair, but the others all sat on one couch. Rígan was squished between Maya and Bryn, with Lou propped on one of the arms semi-precariously.

“I’m coming.”

All of us turned at Bryn’s words.

Rígan grasped her skirt, crumpling the fabric, a teal that was stunning on her. Otherwise, she showed no signs of discomfort. “Are you certain?”

Bryn stared at the fire. “I’ve trained with you, you made sure to integrate me into the plan as a potential lookout, and I’m comfortable with a bow again. Of course, if the plan will still make sense with me there?”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Rígan said.

“It’s a big decision,” I said. Bryn looked at me when she hadn’t looked at her sister. Perhaps if I could get Bryn to explain her reasoning, Rígan would feel more at ease with it. “What made you decide?”

Bryn started to raise her shoulders, but dropped them. “This—training, being with you all, the possibility of helping people—it feels right. I haven’t . . .” She took a steadying breath. “I haven’t had that in a long time.”

“You might need to hurt someone.” Rígan put a hand on Bryn’s thigh. “Can you handle that?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” Bryn still spoke directly to me, as though I were the only one who wouldn’t make her question her choice. Her hands wrung in her lap. “But I think doing this is a good step for me. If it feels this right, it has to mean something, right? That’s worth exploring. Hurting someone . . .” She shuddered. “I’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”

Rígan smiled behind her sister’s back. Pride—she was proud of Bryn for the decision, even though her eyes tightened as though in pain. “If you’re certain.”

Bryn finally looked at her sister. Rígan’s pained expression vanished before Bryn had even finished turning. “I am.”

Lou patted Bryn’s back while Maya grinned. Bryn blushed furiously at the attention.

“You might not have a choice when it comes to hurting someone,” Brí said. Bryn once again averted her gaze, and Rígan’s jaw twitched.

“I know,” Bryn said. “I’ll do my job. I promise.”

“I believe in you,” Rígan said, getting her sister blushing again.

“How are the rest of you feeling about it?” I dared ask, trying to draw some attention off Bryn. My voice barely cracked, but Brí still shifted toward me. I exhaled steadily. People believed she was the only fighter between us, and those shifts did little to convince them otherwise. The comfort was appreciated, but I was the one meant to protect her, not the other way around.

But when Rígan shot a look my way, having caught the crack too, she held my gaze, steady, like she was trying to send strength my way. My next inhale caught before smoothing out, easier than it had been for the last few days.

“Ready,” Lou said. “We’ve got a good team.”

I thought back to the conversation with Thomas, setting aside the doubt around Lou’s claim. They were a good team. There was little question in that. It might have been hit and miss, but there were those hits. There was no way I could expect them to have the cohesiveness of a unit training together for years. Still, the hope had been there, and my fears spiked now that it was gone.

“Those Exiles won’t see us coming,” Rígan said, eyes shining in the flickering firelight. I tried to take more of her confidence into myself.

Maya snorted. “They definitely won’t see you coming.”

Rígan swiveled. “What does that mean?”

“Oh please, I hear you practicing your character in your room before bed.”

I coughed to cover a laugh, but Rígan still glared at me. Something about it, despite the danger lurking there, made it playful all the same. I let the laugh out in full.

“Hey!” she said, struggling to keep in her own laugh. “It’s called dedication.”

“We can call it that,” Bryn said, leaning closer to Lou. It didn’t spare her from a swat from her sister.

“I admire Rígan’s dedication,” Lou said.

“Thank you, Lou,” Rígan said.

“It reminds me of an actor I trained with four or five years ago.”

“You trained as an actor?” Bryn asked.

“I did. Traveled with a troupe. It was fun, but nothing I wanted to continue. Anyway, this actor, he’d learn his role, and then be the character. Transform into them. Every. Hour. Of. The. Day.”

“Didn’t that get to be a bit much?” Brí asked.

“Oh, definitely.”

“Bryn,” Rígan said, examining her nails. “I can’t reach Lou, could you—”

Lou shot up, jerking away from the couch and earning a laugh from the rest of the room. Except for áine. She was watching the proceedings as though from the outside, her passes at the blade slower. When she caught me looking, she returned to it with vigor.

“How dare you all,” Rígan said, laughing outright.

It drew another laugh from me.

We said our goodbyes that night, in case we missed each other in the morning. A heaviness so deep it hurt settled over me as I considered that this could be the last time I saw any of them. It was no stranger to me—I felt that pain whenever my sister returned to the Stone Fortress, despite no guarantees she’d face any danger while there. But this time, the feeling was sixfold. I buried it so they wouldn’t see, and, perhaps, so I could convince myself I wasn’t worried.

Bright and early the next morning after a night of fitful sleep, I found a letter shoved under my bedroom door with Brí’s curly writing on the front. I knew without opening it that it was a reassurance they’d be fine, that she’d look after them, just as I knew I’d be reading that letter more than once until they returned.

As I padded my way barefoot to my study, where I’d take my breakfast and lose myself in work, Cianán came into the apartments and stopped me in my tracks.

His eyes were shadowed, like he hadn’t slept much, either. Sad, too. “I’d like to apologize properly for my recent behavior. I’m worried about you, and the others, and the thought of not warning you of dangers doesn’t sit well with me. But I know I overstepped. I never should have pushed the matter. I truly am sorry.”

Whatever tension had appeared at his presence softened. We were clearly in the same boat, both of us wrecks as I fretted over keeping my people safe and he fretted over not repeating the history of my father’s death. I knew he would advise me well if things did escalate and violence was our only option, but unless that happened, he would be as emotional about this as me.

Even so, his reactions were unwanted. They made me question myself too much.

“You’re forgiven, Cianán. Just try to know when you’ve exhausted your efforts to convince me against my decision, alright?”

“Thank you, Dàibhid. I will.” His use of my name only made the weight of his emotions clearer. He held up a finger, retrieving folded paper from his robes. The paper was a darker brown than I usually encountered, the seal a dark green oak tree. “This came for you today.”

I cracked open the seal, recognizable as the one for the Grove. “The Grove has invited me to attend their Midharvest Festival,” I said. A holiday marked at the beginning of autumn, Midharvest was observed around Cunlaran and invited the goddess Ebher to tend the fields and watch over hearths for the remainder of the harvest season. The festival in the Grove, the isolated town in the heart of Cunlaran, was said to be the best in the country, but outsiders were rarely permitted to attend. My family was the only constant exception.

“Perhaps it would be a good thing,” Cianán said. He waved off the protest I began making. “I know there were rumors a while back about the Grove being home to Exiles.” Some of the first theories had said as much. “But those rumors were, well . . .”

“Bullshit?”

He chuckled. “Bullshit. They consider you and your sister extensions of the gods. There’s no way they would stand against you. Besides, those gods know you could use some fun.”

I stared at the letter. Midharvest was a month away. By then, the Shadow Swords should be back. I hoped. Perhaps I could convince the Priestess of the Grove that they could accompany me. And provided all went well in Tírdorcha, perhaps a break like that would be wise. They deserved to have some fun, too. We could always make plans from there, if needed. That could even throw the Exiles off, believing we’re stagnant and distracted while we’re anything but.

But going could make it seem as though I was brushing aside the difficulties my people were facing.

I told Cianán as much, but he waved me off a second time.

“Just because people are hurting doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a chance to smile. This holiday is happening regardless. People around the country will be celebrating despite, or perhaps in spite of, the circumstances. And it doesn’t mean you can’t continue to work, accept petitions, gather information afterward. You need a distraction. So take it. It will only be for a few days.”

I took a deep breath, picturing the dance. I hadn’t attended the Grove’s event since before my father passed a little over three years ago, but it had been a favorite of mine. The smell of fallen leaves, candles lighting the paths like fairies.

The nostalgia it gave me for a different dance, a different forest, in a different country.

“Alright, Cianán. You’ve convinced me.”

“Fantastic. I’ll begin preparations.”

His departure prompted my second attempt to enter my study, but once he closed the apartments’ door, it opened again, and Rígan’s head popped in.

“Are you busy?” she asked.

I halted. “Not at all. Not on the road yet?”

“In a few minutes.”

“Well then, what can I do for you?”

She stepped inside, dressed in her standard fitted trousers and vest with her hair in a ponytail. She surveyed the room before assessing me. I held my breath as she stalked forward, hips swaying, inviting images into my mind that I quickly shut out lest I get too distracted.

She stopped a few paces from me, hesitating. “You don’t have to worry about us, you know. We’re trained for this.”

The softness with which she spoke made my breath catch. “You noticed, huh?”

“I noticed.”

“I know I don’t have to worry.” The words were near choking. “But I can’t help it. Even if you’re trained, even if you’re all more than capable. I’m sending you into danger, and I hate asking that of you.”

She gave me a small smile, which did more for me than any of her feline gazes. “I know. I like how much you care. Might be one of my favorite things about you.”

“Oh?” I decided then that I wanted to prolong her visit for another few minutes. “And what might the others be?”

She stayed silent. Had I said the wrong thing? But her smile turned suggestive while her cheeks turned red, hiding some of her smaller freckles. “I’m not sure it’s proper of me to say.”

Gods, she was bold. I loved it.

“What if I gave you permission?”

She worked through a swallow. “Not great timing.”

“I think it’s perfectly acceptable timing.”

“You have an interesting concept of time.”

“I’m alright with that.” My voice had deepened of its own volition, and her eyes followed suit. She swallowed again and, with what appeared to be great difficulty, took a step back. I almost reached a hand out to her, but she stooped to grab a bag she’d discarded, her back to me.

“Some other time, perhaps.” Her playful tone was half-assed at best.

“I might hold you to that.”

Rígan shook her head; at me or herself, I couldn’t tell.

“Good luck with that, Your Majesty.” Still trying for the teasing.

“Please be safe, Rígan,” I said, stopping the banter in favor of what had been nagging at me since before the plan had even come into place.

“I’ll do what I can,” she said, equally as serious, her steady gaze finding mine and making my breathing easier once more.

Just as she was about to leave, she doubled back and pulled me down, giving me a quick kiss on my cheek. I was too dazed to do much more than watch her head for the door, her hair swishing and shoulders set.

Even when she was on edge, about to head out on a dangerous mission, everything about her screamed alive . It made me want to follow her. Not just now—anywhere.

My feet were rooted down even as my mind sped, weaving memories and moments from my past together with the present in a brilliant tapestry.

Rígan stopped at the threshold. “I can be rather clever when I want to be. So I’ll be fine. And I’ll make sure everyone else is, too.”

Alive. Clever. Caring. A combination that made my heart ache as it pounded.

“We’ll see you soon, Dàibhid.”

And with that, she left, the memories and moments of the tapestry stilling, and I stood alone, stunned in more ways than one.