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Chapter 27 ~ A City Taken

Rígan

There are Exiles in Tírdorcha.

They’re arriving in small batches.

The next batch arrives soon.

Balor is lying in wait.

I repeated the knowledge over and over in my head on our journey back to the capital, cementing it in place. Every so often I patted my satchel, where the ledger and letter were safely lodged. We’d arrive at the castle tomorrow, and we could start planning right away.

Brí sat down hard beside me on the log I’d claimed next to our evening fire, meat roasting over it on a spit. A stray blond hair lifted off her face in the breeze, turning molten in the firelight.

“We can’t let Balor make the first move,” she said.

“How do you propose we prevent it?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” She fiddled with the buckles at her waist, the soft clinking of metal the only accompaniment to the crackling fire. I played with the rabbit bone between my fingers, having picked it clean.

We still hadn’t spoken properly one-on-one. I was at a place where I likely could, I’d just been too preoccupied with our task at hand to give much of anything other than the information we’d gathered a second thought.

I opened my mouth, but she beat me to it.

“Listen. You know what you’re doing. You’re smart. You’ve survived bullshit.” I raised my brows. “It’s the impression I get. In any case, you’re capable in a fight and coming up with strategy.”

“Is that an apology?”

“If it is?”

I shrugged. “I’ve heard worse.”

“Do I always agree with your methods? No. Do you always agree with mine? Clearly not. But we’re both skilled, just in different ways. Different circumstances. All I’m saying is we should acknowledge that we’re both good at what we do and try to work through the hard moments.”

I tossed the bone into the fire. “Alright.”

“Was that an agreement?” The corner of her mouth tilted up in such a Dàibhid way that my breath almost hitched. Almost.

I snickered. “It’s an agreement. You’re good at your job. You earned the position.” I grabbed a handful of berries we’d found along the way, popping them into my mouth all at once.

Brí looked away, but not before I saw the tips of her ears turn red.

“It’s true,” I said, the tart berries distorting the sound. I didn’t know why I needed to comfort her. Make her believe my words. But I did.

“Well, thank you.”

That was probably the best we were going to manage.

It was midmorning when we arrived on the outskirts of the capital, just past the farms outside the western gate. The cloud cover was thin and infinite.

“Remember when we came to the capital this way?” Lou asked. “That first time?” No one had spoken since we’d mounted our horses, the anxious energy unbelievably thick. He was undoubtedly trying to ease the tension, if only a little.

“That was a good day,” I said, more to appease Lou than anything else. My skin was all tingly, and it wouldn’t stop until we were in the city walls. In the castle walls, for that matter, speaking to Dàibhid about what we had to do.

“What happened?” Bryn asked from my other side, taking Lou’s hint.

“We’d been working in the south for a terribly inept lord,” Maya explained. “He was everything you don’t like in anyone with a title. His wife wasn’t bad, though.”

I had too strong of an urge to contribute to the tale now. Damn Lou and their effective tactics. “We hated working for Lord Penny, and when we heard there were openings at the gates to the capital, we left immediately.”

“And met with a terrifying lieutenant commander,” Lou said. “Thank everything that can be thanked he’s no longer there.”

“What, because he was a little snarly?” I said.

“A little snarly? A little ?” Lou shivered. “The man should’ve been a pirate.”

“I thought you’ve dealt with pirates?” Brí asked.

“I mean, sure, but I was never in a situation where I was about to answer to one.”

“Huge difference,” Maya stage-whispered.

“Huge,” I responded just as loudly, sending Bryn into a fit of giggles.

“You’re insufferable, both of you,” Lou said, though they did nothing to hide their smirk.

“Then why have you stuck around so long?” I teased.

“I feel compelled to help you. You’d be lost without me.”

“Very generous of you.”

They winked, and I smiled. I would have been lost without Lou, at least early on.

“You know, for our third anniversary as a little unit earlier this year, Lou made us this special Birrinese dinner?” I told Bryn.

Lou shrugged. “It was the least I could do. You two are the only people I’ve spent more than a few months at a time with since I was fifteen. I wanted to mark the occasion.”

Brí turned to Lou. “Isn’t that, like, eight years ago? You’ve never stayed—”

“Stop.” áine’s fist went up at the front of the group. “Something’s wrong.”

We brought our horses to a halt, scanning for what she sensed. The farms were quiet. A lone rider was on the road in front of us, guiding cows to a different pasture. No one else.

“Is it just me,” Maya said. “Or is this eerily similar to the Fields last we were there?”

“You’re right.” I kept scanning the surroundings. No sounds penetrated the air. Even the cows were silent. “But that would mean . . .”

Maya and I locked gazes, coming to the same conclusion. “Shit.”

We galloped to the gate, pulling on the reins at the last moment. The rotation looked normal, familiar faces at the gate and surrounding walls.

Nial emerged from the gatehouse, a frown creasing his brow. Much different from the last time I’d seen him, all playful and cocky. Had that already been months ago?

I dismounted. “What’s going on, Nial.”

“You can’t be here. Any of you.” He handed me a piece of paper. “Lieutenant Commander Mahone was given this for you. She was called to Bailanín, so she entrusted it to me. Because of—”

“Us?” He nodded, though we both knew us was a generous term. “Why was she called to the castle?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t heard from her since she was called away. There’s rumor . . .”

“What rumor?” Maya asked, nudging him in the direction he enjoyed to be nudged in.

He worked his mouth like it had turned dry.

Another guard came up to Nial and spoke in a hushed whisper. “Give them the letter and get back in. No chitchat.”

“Just read the letter,” Nial said. “I’m sure it has what you need.” He looked behind him. The other guards were getting shiftier the longer we stood there.

“Nial, what the fuck is happening?” I said.

“We have orders not to let anyone in. To detain anyone who stands around too long asking questions.”

“Why would King Dàibhid give that order?” And why weren’t we given special permission to enter?

“He didn’t.” He pushed me until I was beside Dove, one foot in a stirrup. “The Exiles did.”

I ran my thumb over the letter again, the one Dàibhid had written, informing us of the breach, the Exile arrival, and his flight to the Grove, where we were to meet him and two dozen guards.

“Why are we still standing here?” Brí asked, hands digging into a stone well. We’d only gone far enough to be hidden from the gate, stopped between two properties.

“Because this could be a trap.” My voice felt hollow, and Bryn stepped closer to me. I barely registered that I was the one advising Brí not to rush into things now. “What if the Exiles forced Dàibhid to write this, and we’re walking into an ambush.” What if they had Dàibhid, period? My hands turned clammy. For now, the shock of the situation had hold. I knew, with a strange clarity of mind, that I would eventually snap and anger and fear would replace it. Anger at the Exiles, and fear for Dàibhid. Likely strong enough to make me argue in favor of storming the walls and taking back our home.

“They don’t know about us, though,” áine said.

“And my brother wouldn’t have given us up,” Brí said.

“It’s not a trap.”

We all spun toward the new voice, drawing weapons. Even Bryn reached for an arrow at her back.

A farmer, dark skin spotted with age, stood before us, hands raised.

Maya stepped toward him, sword up. “Who are you?”

He took one step back. “I’m just a farmer.” He turned to Brí. “Your Highness, I gave the king and three of his men horses for their journey.”

She didn’t flinch at the recognition. “And you haven’t told a soul?”

He fervently shook his head. “I never would. The Exiles are the reason my farm was destroyed. I would’ve had little means to make ends meet this season were it not for the king. He provided the coin I would have made from crop sales. Did the same for the whole community. I would never betray a man who helped us in our time of need.”

We all sheathed our weapons. I rubbed my sternum, refusing to admit the tightening was anything other than lingering sympathy for the farmers.

Brí’s eyes were wild with worry. “Who was he with? What happened?”

The man lowered his hands but didn’t relax at her tone. Bryn grasped Brí’s shoulder, trying and failing to ease her back.

“One was stout, with red hair and a beard.” Thomas. “One was older, gray and balding. Tall.” Liam. “And the other had dark hair and wore robes. Imposing fellow.” Cianán.

My hand flew to my chest. “He’s safe.”

“What happened?” Brí repeated.

“Brí,” áine warned. Brí minutely eased back. “Tell us,” áine said to the farmer, gentle this time.

“I was in the city for supplies when the guards began to scramble. Rushing back and forth, barking orders. What with the recent attack on the lower district”—I stiffened; what happened in the lower district?—“I decided to return home. Before I got far, something moved on the ground, some sort of hidden door, and four men came out. I recognized the king immediately. Then the guards on the wall got louder, said the Exiles had attacked the castle. I ran to the king, and he remembered me.” The farmer’s lips flattened, chin quivering. “He accepted my offer to provide transportation, took four of my fastest horses, and rode south.”

He kept shaking, though he also kept looking behind us to where the castle lay. Where the Exiles were. Beholding his fear not of us, but of those holding the capital, made me want to offer him the chance to come with us. The Grove had to be safer than here, especially if Dàibhid had chosen it.

I drew Brí aside and told her as much.

She frowned, and I scowled. “What?”

“We can’t bring him,” Brí said. She wasn’t angry about it—just stating a fact. A fact I would call bullshit on. “We can’t afford an untrained body.”

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“If we’re attacked on the road, we’ll have to defend him. That takes extra precaution that could get in the way of either succeeding or fleeing.”

“But he’s not safe here!”

“Wake up, Rígan, he’s not safe anywhere!” She exhaled slowly. “Perhaps none of us are. But Dàibhid should be, temporarily, in the Grove. Where we need to meet him, sooner rather than later. This farmer is safer at his farm than with us.” For now . “We shouldn’t risk his life by bringing him into potentially dangerous territory. The Exiles are hunting Dàibhid. This man doesn’t deserve to be brought into that.”

I glanced back at him. I’d wanted to call bullshit, but she was right. Fuck, she was right.

“Fine. But I don’t like it.”

“I didn’t expect you to.”

We caught the end of a conversation when we returned to the group. The farmer, though untrained, was willing to fight with what he had. Provide horses, food, shelter.

I couldn’t leave him empty-handed.

“I promise we’ll do everything we can to stop the Exiles.”

If he was surprised by the declaration, he didn’t show it. At this point, anyone could make that promise, sellsword and average citizen alike. We all wanted it done.

“If the farms come under threat—” I stopped, staring blankly at him. I couldn’t give him a course of action. I wasn’t a commander in his army. Wasn’t a princess to his country. I was just a woman who wanted him safe.

It was the first time in a long time that I wished I had more power.

“If the farms come under threat, flee,” Brí said. “You and the others. Whether that’s within Cunlaran or to some other country. I’m sure Fenwald would keep you safe.”

He nodded, resolute. I wasn’t sure he’d follow her advice or simply work to get the others out like he had his king.

With a knot in my gut, I guided Dove into a trot and left Ardanna to the Exiles.