Page 29

Bryn whistled again, shorter this time. The hostiles were getting close.

“What about contacts?” I asked. “Surely Balor has deigned you important enough to have an Exile contact.”

“He did. And I’m not sharing a damn thing about them.”

“Oh, I don’t know about—”

The front door hitting the wall echoed through the house, thunderous footsteps following.

“Here!” Ragerty yelled. “I’m up here! Intruders!”

I swore. We had to make it to the servant’s stairs before we got cut off, escape that way—

That door crashed open too. We were trapped.

I sent Bryn the signal that we were in trouble before darting to the side of the room where Maya stood, my sword at the ready.

“The king’s people!” Ragerty shouted. Fuck. His study of Brí must have sparked recognition. That didn’t bode well for us in the least.

Fenton stumbled into the room, the door’s latch bouncing off the frame, preventing it from shutting. Rather than draw his own sword and stand with us or even make an attempt to flee, Fenton huddled in the corner like a child. It was becoming clearer how he hadn’t made much money before landing this client.

The door kicked open and a brown-skinned barrel of a man stormed in, a short sword in each hand. The craftsmanship was foreign to me, and I’d seen a lot of weapons over the years. Then I caught the crest on the pommels. Two crossed swords. Doaríc-made weapons.

Exile.

I made the first move, swinging to catch the Exile off guard. He was fast, though, coming up to block me. All he had to do was push with his upper body and I was skidding back, throwing out an arm to catch my balance. The others each took turns trying to take him with little success.

The Exile bellowed and puffed his chest as a second Exile, a fair woman with Bryn’s build, stepped in behind him, her sword decorated with the same crest.

Lou went for her, drawing her attention away with flourished moves. She grinned like the flourishes meant he wasn’t skilled. She’d be proven wrong.

Maya darted back and forth between the two Exiles, keeping their focus torn, while I went for the man once more. He was skilled, his strikes coming too close for comfort. Brí, with her injured knee, stayed off to the side while áine took charge of guarding Ragerty, refusing to let the Exiles get close.

“Duck!” Maya yelled, one of the man’s swords sneaking out and coming dangerously close to my eye. The blade whooshed past the top of my head, a couple of hairs pulling as it went.

Ragerty laughed. áine punched him in the stomach.

“Don’t keep fighting when you can’t win,” the male Exile said. “Give up now, and we’ll make your deaths quick.”

“An interesting promise,” Lou said, pulling his sword from the woman’s gut. She crumpled to the ground and didn’t move again.

The Exile roared before renewing his slashing, successfully cutting my arm. Blood flowed freely, the wound a sharp burn, but I couldn’t stop. We had to tire him out. I would keep going until I physically couldn’t, and then áine could step in.

Except the Exile kicked Maya back, sending her and Lou colliding with a shelf, books falling on their heads, and dislodged my sword from my hands before forcing me to my knees. He pointed one sword at me, the other at Brí and áine.

“No one moves, or this one dies.”

I stared him down, figuring out my next move, when he howled in pain, dropping one arm, followed swiftly by the next.

Arrows protruded from both.

Without missing a beat, áine leapt and shoved a dagger into his heart.

“What did you do?” Ragerty cried. “You will pay for that.”

Brí heaved a sigh for Ragerty’s dramatics. “We don’t need him.”

“He’s likely given us all he will at this point,” I said, retrieving my sword.

“Likely,” Maya agreed.

Ragerty droned on. “Your deaths will not be quick, not anymore—”

More footsteps pounded a threatening beat below. Bryn hadn’t alerted us of more. I couldn’t think about what that could mean yet.

Brí nodded. “Do it.”

I silenced Ragerty with a slice to the throat.

“We need to get out of here,” I said, wiping the blade on my trousers. I pointed to the window. “We have to go that way. There’s no other option.”

I glanced at Brí, who frowned. She couldn’t be happy that I was taking control. But in desperate moments like this, Lou, Maya, and I had found that whoever had the quickest idea was the one we followed. We’d be lucky if we got a minute before they were done searching the ground floor and on their way up.

I hauled Fenton up by his shirt. “You’re coming too.”

He didn’t need extra prodding, taking a single look outside before making the drop. His cry was sharp but muffled.

I extended my hand to Brí. “We’ll do our best to lower you.”

She didn’t protest, either, letting Lou and I slide her down the wall as far as we could. She landed silently, but her leg gave out. She didn’t move from where she was. Fenton took the money pouch from her waist and ran.

We lowered Lou next, who grabbed Brí under the arms and stumbled away, tucked into shadows. I cursed the hour we’d come. It was too bright. Where were the dark clouds when you needed them?

áine insisted we go before her, that she could make the jump. From what I’d seen, I believed her. But the second Maya was out of our hands, two more Exiles charged in. áine slashed at them, shouting at me to drop. Maya waited at the bottom, arms out like she could catch me. I tried to shoo her out of the way, but she pumped her arms for me to land in them. I let out a strangled cry, prayed she wouldn’t break a bone, and tried to crawl my way down the side of the house, fingernails catching and tearing. It was painful and slow—too slow, given áine still needed to get out. The fighting wasn’t letting up. She needed to leave now .

I let go of the wall.

I’d made enough progress that when Maya and I tumbled to the ground, we could get up with minimal pain.

In theory. Because Maya clutched her side.

Her side . Which was still tender from the forming scar.

“Damn it, Maya!” I said as we ran. I hoped Bryn was hidden on the roof, or at least jumping to another before climbing down. We’d meet her and the others at the inn. She was fine. She had to be.

“I wasn’t going to let you fall ,” Maya said.

“You let Lou fall!”

“Just go .” áine ran up beside us, dagger bloody.

As we picked up our pace, I turned my head and laid eyes on one of the Exiles, leaning out the window. His blond hair glinted in the sun, an angry slash so thick along his face I could see it from a distance, a red river along a pale cheek. A sun tattoo wrapped around his thick right forearm. Something about him exuded an air of authority. Was he the contact we’d hoped to learn about from Ragerty?

I let the thought drop. The tattooed Exile’s companion—slighter, dark brown hair, and a swath of freckles on skin paler than the other’s—was tearing down the street after us.

We ran down a busier street, trying to lose ourselves in the market crowd. Cries rang out as the pursuing Exile pushed people aside.

“We need cloaks,” I said. Ours had all been removed at various points during our little excursion. “And to split up. We’ll meet back at the inn in an hour, like we planned.”

We altered course, each of us taking to different parts of the street, hiding behind moving carts and darting into stores we’d scouted with more than one exit. I swiped a cloak—beautiful, new, cozy like my last—and hoped the shopkeeper wouldn’t mind the loss of a single item. Perhaps I’d task someone to bring them money before we left the city.

When I knew I wasn’t being followed anymore, I took more of an ambling gait toward the inn, my hair tucked under my hood and my head down. I was the last to arrive. No one else believed they’d been followed.

Bryn, thank gods, was shaken but present.

We all agreed we couldn’t stay, not now that two Exiles knew our faces. We’d move slowly, like we weren’t being chased out, and leave in a few hours.

Once we settled that, I dragged Bryn to our room at her vacant expression.

“Talk to me,” I said after closing our door.

Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly. She squished her lips together and took a seat on our bed. “I don’t know what to say.”

I sat beside her, legs brushing.

“Part of me feels horrible,” she choked, voice thickening. “The look on his face after I shot him, the blood . . . the . . . what it helped you do. It’s why I didn’t signal the others coming, I just couldn’t, I was shaking so much . . .”

Her eyes lined with tears as they swept back and forth. I wanted to hug her, but knew that could break the spell. Make her stop talking. Instead, I grabbed my crow carving and waited.

She sniffled, refocusing. “But none of me regrets shooting. Not exactly. He was going to . . . he was going to kill you. All of you, if I didn’t do something. But not sending you that signal could have gotten you killed, and he is dead because of me.”

“He’s dead because of him ,” I spat, trusting she’d know the venom wasn’t directed at her. “What he chose had nothing to do with you. You helped us stop him. And then we killed him because it was the only course of action. We would have done that whether or not you’d shot him. And we’re all fine. Missing that last signal didn’t cause any damage.”

“Still.” She gripped the sheets for dear life. “I’ve never had anyone’s life in my hands like that. I don’t know what to do with that. What to think, what to feel. I can’t even tell what I’m feeling because it’s all over the place and I don’t know what to do with myself and I can already feel nightmares creeping in—”

I cut her off, giving in to the urge to put an arm around her, pulling her close. “It’s alright. That’s normal. There’s no right way to think or feel right now.”

“I want there to be. I want to know what to do with this. I want to be told that what I did was right, even though I feel that it was.”

I really wished I could do that for her. But I knew from experience that it wasn’t possible in situations like this.

“But it doesn’t matter,” she said, gripping tighter. “I’d do it again. I’d always shoot him to protect you.”

A thick lump caught in the back of my throat. A thank-you didn’t feel adequate or appropriate, so I hugged her for her determination, her fierceness, and hoped the nightmares and any straggling guilt didn’t consume her.

She wiped the stubborn tears that had fallen from her cheeks and busied herself with her split skirt. “But you did what I couldn’t have. You . . . finished things. How are you feeling?”

I held back my sigh. “I’m fine. We’re talking about you.” And perhaps we should talk about the fact that you just saw people die.

“No. No, I’ll be fine. Thank you for listening.” The look she bore resembled our mother so much it was like a punch to the gut. The kind and firm eyes, the comforting smile. “Are you sure you don’t need to talk about it?”

I shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. This was part of the job the others understood. Something I’d discussed with Lou and Maya, but I’d never felt I had to reassure them about my feelings. It made me feel oddly exposed.

“Bryn, killing doesn’t . . .” I steeled myself. “It doesn’t bother me. Not like that. And certainly not in this particular case. Does it suck that lives were lost? Yes. Do I wish it could have been otherwise? Yes. Do I enjoy killing? No. Definitely not. But I’m willing to do it, and I rarely lose sleep over it.” Would I remember their faces long after today? Likely. I remembered most of them. But Bryn didn’t need to know that.

She glanced away at my confession. My clothing became too tight. I’d never hidden things from her, but none of it had resulted in this before.

“Alright.”

My thumb, which had been grazing the crow’s cool head, halted at her voice.

“I don’t understand it completely, but I doubt you’d be able to do this job without that mentality. And no matter how uncomfortable I might be, might always be, with this stuff, I’m glad you’re able to deal with it. It makes it easier, I suppose, to protect people the way you’d always dreamed of.”

I nodded, refusing to admit the other reality to her—that part of me was uncomfortable with how easy killing sometimes came. But there was no point saying it. I wasn’t about to stop living this life no matter what.

She planted a kiss on my forehead. “Thank you for telling me.”

I nudged my shoulder into hers. “And for comforting you for a change?”

“I already thanked you for that.”

“Yeah, but it’s a rare occasion you actually let me. So excuse me for rubbing it in and claiming the victory.” As small as it was. This was her first mission with violence, her first exposure to death like this. Surely she needed to talk more.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she said.

“Trust me, I’m aware.”

A knock sounded on the door. Maya stood on the other side.

“Hey. Just checking in.” She glanced behind me to Bryn.

“I’m good,” I said. I opened the door wider, but Maya didn’t move.

“So am I,” Bryn said. “I mean, I will be. I am. It’s fine.”

Maya sucked in her lips. “Good. That’s good.”

“And you?” Bryn asked, some of the concern for me transferring to Maya.

“I’m fine. Truly. Thank you for your help today. I . . .” Maya tapered off. I raised a brow. It wasn’t often she faltered for words. “Thank you.”

Bryn nodded. Maya squeezed my shoulder before retreating into her room.

I closed the door and spun around. “What was that?”

“She came to make sure we were alright.”

I was positive it was mostly for Bryn’s benefit.

“It was nice of her,” I said.

“She’s a nice person.”

“And you like her?”

“I like her and Lou very much.”

Fuck it. “But do you like her?”

Bryn sputtered, managing to say, “Are you five?”

“Please, I wouldn’t have asked you that until I was at least ten.”

Her cheeks turned a brilliant pink, the blush descending to her chest.

“You do .”

She stared at the ceiling. “Rígan—”

It wasn’t interference if I didn’t tell her Maya might like her back. Or that I’d be alright with her making a move. Not that Bryn would.

And it wouldn’t do to tell her Maya’s weaknesses when it came to flirting.

“It’s alright that you do, you know,” I said. “She’s easy to like.”

That got me a smile. “She is. And I do like her. You’re right. But I want to figure things out first. And I don’t know what I’ll do in the future. If I’ll be here, if I’ll go back to Mother and Father . . .” The corners of her mouth pulled down, and my eagerness snuffed out like a dead candle.

In all my excitement about how good Maya and Bryn could be together, I’d overlooked the biggest obstacle—my own damn secret. My lungs constricted. I didn’t want to be the reason they couldn’t be together, though it was up to Bryn if she wanted to permanently join my secret life.

She stared out the window with a longing I hadn’t seen before.

“You don’t want to return to them, do you?” I asked.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with this place.” Despite it being aligned with my selfish thoughts, the happiness I felt for her had nothing to do with me. “Even with the Exiles and the dangers, being here with you, all of you, has made me feel happy. Safe, I suppose.”

“Do you find you’re figuring more out about yourself?”

“I do. I like being part of something bigger. I like working in a team and being surrounded by people who aren’t our sisters.” She cringed while she laughed. “That sounded horrible. I do miss them. Especially Kat.”

I laughed, too. “I understand. Except for Kat, our sisters sometimes felt more like acquaintances we were made to spend time with. Here, we get to choose those people.”

The rest tumbled out of her. “I like feeling independent, and learning things, and exploring without limits. I like the possibilities and knowing I can change my mind about my own path. And knowing that here, being with a woman isn’t considered strange by the nobility. Or anyone, actually.”

It was true—within the Fenwaldan nobility, our family was one of few outlier. Keeping things in the bloodline was too important to too many, even with adoption being legally recognized for successions.

“When we were exploring Ardanna one day,” Bryn said, “I saw that couple in their, I don’t know, seventies? Walking around, hand in hand, pointing out hats and skirts they thought would look good on the other. Laughing like they were just falling in love, but they both wore wedding bands. And then you told me one of them is on Dàibhid’s council. The comfort that knowledge gave me was immense. She’d basically be nobility in Fenwald.”

Warmth crested at the memory. I remembered. I’d watched Bryn watch them.

“And Maya?” I asked tentatively, no longer sure how I should tread around that subject.

“I need to think about . . . things.”

“That’s—”

“Rígan!” Bryn interrupted. “Your arm!”

“Oh, right.” The wound had clotted, the cut not nearly as bad as the initial sting had suggested. “I’ll just wrap it.”

She tsked. “I’ll do it.”

A couple hours later, all packed and ready to go, we made our way out of the city in the pairs we’d come in. Brí struggled along beside me with a simple wooden cane as we headed toward the home where we’d left our horses. I had yet to tell the team what was in my satchel for fear of being overheard, and I desperately wanted to tell Brí I had something for her brother. But I kept my mouth shut. She’d find out shortly.

Still, the details and numbers I had inadvertently memorized circled round and round, not giving me an inch of rest. More Exiles were coming to Tírdorcha. And soon. Despite our hasty retreat and the worry gnawing at my bones, this was a win. We could act on this.

We regrouped, shared what we’d learned, and the moment night fell, we rode by the light of the blue moon as fast as our mounts could carry us.