Page 42

Chapter 36 ~ Omens

Dàibhid

The day we set out from the Grove was uncharacteristically cloudless, the sun warming the otherwise cool day, turning the fragrant wildflowers vibrant shades of purple, yellow, and blue, encouraging peace. Calm. Maybe even happiness. Everything hummed with life.

My pulse lurched with every step my horse took, and I cursed the sun through my undercurrent of panic.

Though Brí had talked me down from my worries before she’d left two weeks ago, they weren’t gone. I’d been torturing myself with violent what-ifs, wondering if any of my actions had been the right ones. If they still were.

Everything I was about to do could determine whether the people of this country lived or died. Their lives were in my hands now more than ever. Hands of someone who should be their protector. I stared at those hands, the digits tightening on the reins, creasing uncomfortably in my riding gloves. How many graves might I dig at the end of all of this?

My breath hitched, and I forced myself to work through it. What I needed was to talk to Rígan. Without Brí here, Rígan and Bryn were the only two who could understand my situation, and Bryn didn’t have nearly the same effect on me as her sister. I needed the boost of strength only Rígan could give me.

But I could still picture Rígan seconds before she’d left my tent, tears in her eyes and anger sharpening her features from my confession. I wanted to talk to her about that, too. Ease whatever thoughts she was conjuring up. But I would respect her evident need for space. She’d barely looked at me since we’d readjusted our timeline south, and I didn’t want to find out what would happen if I approached her first.

I just hoped she’d talk to me again, not as a sellsword to a king but as my friend.

I just needed her .

“I’m aware you’re wearing gloves,” Thomas said beside me. “But I imagine your knuckles are an impressive shade of white.”

I ground my jaw and loosened my hold on the reins. Coirce, my deep brown stallion, tossed his mane. The fleeing guards had thought to grab him as they ran from Ardanna. His familiar trot along the dirt road brought a small degree of comfort.

Thomas squinted against the glare of the sun. “You’re doing the right thing, you know.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“He’s right,” Liam said from a few paces away.

“Are you eavesdropping?” I asked.

“Hard to eavesdrop when Thomas speaks at full volume ninety-nine times out of a hundred.”

“That’s rude,” Thomas said.

Despite anxiety making a home in my chest, my lips tipped up. “He has a point, Thom.”

Thomas chuckled. “Maybe, but he also has a point about what I said.”

I focused on the sound of Coirce’s hooves hitting the earth. Some part of me whispered that if this many people were in agreement over my actions, perhaps they were the right decisions. Still, enough of me unrelentingly claimed they could be wrong.

Though few were close by, I didn’t want to risk anyone but my two most loyal guards, two of my closest companions, hearing, so I spoke at a near-whisper.

“It’s hard to see it as right sometimes. Logically, I can understand what we’re doing may be the smart choice. But the risks . . .” What if the meeting went sideways? What if it was a trap? What if people died because of my decision to meet with Balor?

“They’re brutal risks, we don’t have to sugarcoat that,” Liam said. “But we do need to accept when the risks of doing something outweigh the risks of not.”

I rolled the words around my mind, so similar to Rígan’s but landing differently. What would the risks look like if I chose not to act? Before I could properly think on it, Cianán rode up beside us, a missive in hand.

“This just arrived from the princess. She and her soldiers are on the move. We should meet them tomorrow.”

“Good.” I glanced back to the retinue. The Shadow Swords rode in front, the new leathers the Grove’s clothier provided immaculate. Rígan wore her hair in a tight braid, but a few strands had wormed their way free. While talking to Liam and Thomas helped, I still wished she were with me.

The day dragged on, the sun never letting up. More than a few of us shed the cloaks we’d set off with. A trickle of sweat dripped down my spine.

Cianán approached me shortly before we arrived at our midway destination, where we’d rest for the night.

“Dàibhid?”

His use of my name caught me off guard. “Yes?”

“I know I said this before, but I would like to say it again. I am sorry for the ways I’ve handled situations as of late.”

I went to interrupt him, to tell him he’d improved drastically since the Swords went to Tírdorcha, but he held up a hand.

“I just—” He sighed. “You and your sister are my family. And knowing that my warning could have saved your father, who was like a brother . . .” He cleared his throat, but a stubborn tear snuck out. “I never should have let my fears take over me like I did. They’re no excuse. I am honored and privileged to serve you, to know you, and to love you. Please know that.”

I was too choked up to respond, so I nodded. I may have been panicking at the thought of meeting Balor, but Cianán had to be as well. And to admit such things now—the positives and negatives alike—meant a lot.

“I’m honored and privileged, too,” I managed to say.

His whole countenance lit up, clearly touched. But he soon turned forward in his saddle, features pinching. “That’s not all I wanted to tell you. But I needed to make sure I got it in first, before, well, less pleasant talk.”

“What is it?”

“The rumors about Balor.” He hesitated, both of us stiffening, before plowing on. “I know we’ve spoken about them before, but with this meeting approaching, they’re worth revisiting.”

A weight, solid as iron, settled in my limbs. “Go on.”

“Some have called him cocky, cruel. Those are simply other words for confident and cunning. He’s smart, this Balor. Just as we are going in prepared for more than one outcome, he will do the same. He may try to manipulate you, as the others have suggested. Perhaps I’m wrong; I’m no seer. But you are such a gentle soul, Dàibhid. I’d hate to see him take advantage of that.”

Some of the weight melted from my shoulders, struck again by something Rígan had said. That they were all here to support me. Cianán had always supported me—he’d been there during the hardest parts of my life, when my father, then my mother, had died, when I’d been crowned much younger than I’d ever anticipated. He’d been a friend, a brother, to my father before me, and had never been afraid to provide his insights. And those always, always came from the heart. For me, and for my people. He was my family, just as I was his.

“Thank you, Cianán.” My voice came out thick. “I’ll be careful.”

He reached out and patted my shoulder. “No matter what happens, I’ll be with you. Always.”

The flap of my small, half-assed tent—there hadn’t been reason to set up the entire camp for the night—tore aside early and abruptly the next morning. My furs slipped off my arms as I patted around wildly for my sword.

Brí’s wide smile greeted me much too closely. “Surprise, big brother.”

I recoiled, fully awake, and Brí laughed. “Gods, Brí, did you even think that through?”

“I took your sword, so no impaling in sight.”

Gods, she had. She twirled it point-down at her side where she crouched.

“You weren’t supposed to meet us until this afternoon,” I said, grabbing for my sword.

She pulled it out of reach. “We were ahead of schedule.”

I managed to snatch the blade from her. “Perhaps this isn’t the best behavior given the circumstances?”

She shrugged. “What of it?”

I opened my mouth to retort, but cut myself off. “What are you distracting me from?”

She looked east, where a thin strip of light was emerging. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Brí. Don’t make me command it out of you.”

Her eyes flicked back to me, softer now. It was gone in an instant. “I’m distracting you from the whirligig of a brain you carry around in that head of yours.”

“You woke me up to distract me from myself? Really?”

“I woke you up to tell you we’re here and will be ready after my soldiers get some rest. And that there’s bacon.”

The smell of said bacon, and of fresh tea, finally registered, along with the sound of groggy risers mumbling around the camp.

“Wonderful. Thank you for the update.” I made to lie down, but she grabbed my shoulder.

“You’re doing the right thing.”

“You aren’t the first to tell me that.”

“But you won’t listen, will you?” Motion from across the way drew our attention, where a head of red hair, like wine in candlelight, emerged from a tent. “You’d listen to her, I bet.”

“Meaning?”

“Please, you know what I mean.” She plopped herself down, crossing her legs.

“I don’t, actually.”

“It’s obvious you like her.” I spluttered, and she scoffed. “Come on, Dàibhid, you get all doe-eyed when she walks into a room. She’s a bit feisty for you, if you ask me.”

“Meaning?” I repeated, awkwardness dissipating for irritation.

“Feisty. Headstrong. Stubborn. Bullheaded. Reckless.” She ticked each off her fingers.

“I thought you liked her.”

“I did. I do.” She unsuccessfully blew hair out of her face and angrily swiped it away. “She can be tough to handle. I don’t want her hurting you.”

“I don’t know if you’ve seen her with the people she cares about, but she’s fiercely loyal. And she’s helping us when she has no obligation to.”

“You hired her.”

“She didn’t need to take the job.” My arms locked. Rígan must have taken the job knowing I might recognize her. I’d think she wanted me to catch on, but given our recent interactions, she must have been walking a tightrope the entire time. And she had fallen off.

“In any case,” I said, “she’s here because she wants to be. This has turned into her fight as much as it is ours.”

“Technically, this is the fight of every Cunlaran, however they choose to do so.”

I schooled my face. Rígan wasn’t Cunlaran, which made her dedication that much more important to me.

“She’s a good person, Brí. Really, truly good.”

She sagged a little. “I know. Just be careful, alright?”

I nodded. I almost lay back down, but the smell of that bacon hit me once more, and my brain was already going, anyway. I sighed.

Brí snickered. “Go eat something, Your Majesty. Your stomach is yelling.”

After one more night on the road, everyone in the camp rose to prepare for the last leg south. We’d grown exponentially, the soldiers from the Fortress bolstering the resolve of the rest of us. Brí had only brought a fraction of the Fortress’s ranks, but it was exactly what we needed. A large enough host—just over three hundred total, the Fortress soldiers and Ardanna guards together—to show Balor we would defend ourselves and our country if it came to that, but small enough that it wouldn’t be seen as an act of war. Hopefully.

Unlike the other day, the sun didn’t show its face, clouds covering every inch of sky. The wildflowers were dull in this lighting. Goosebumps erupted along my arms beneath my sleeves and I frowned, missing the sun now that it was gone. But perhaps it was a good omen—no sun meant no Soral, the god of war. Maybe it was a sign that we wouldn’t need his assistance.

“You know.” Lou sidled up to me as we rode, looking at the sky. Thomas, Liam, Cianán, and Brí rode close by. “Rain is a good omen on Il Birrin. It means peace. Prosperity. Hope.”

“Do you believe in those traditions?”

“I do. Besides, my grandmother would disown me if I didn’t.”

I watched the sky with Lou, now wishing for the clouds to darken. “Then pray for rain, will you?”

“Already on it. We might need the divine aid.”

While I wanted divine support, I wasn’t sure I wanted divine aid. That meant my hopes would be dashed, that negotiations were either still far off or, worse, not possible at all.

Around me, the steady pounding of hooves and feet thundered on, a reminder that we were in a good position. A defensible one. Where we were headed had a hill on one side—our side—with open fields ahead and space for an out-of-the-way camp. Even more importantly, there was no village close by.

Best case scenario, the extra soldiers and guards would be unneeded, and we could all go home knowing we’d done our jobs. Worst case, we used our numbers as a show of strength and forced the Exiles back.

We could do this. This could work.

But when we crested that defensible hill, my stomach plunged somewhere deep inside, a feeling of the world being pulled out from under me swiping the air from my lungs. I jostled Coirce to a halt.

Balor had come, following the date and time I’d chosen. And he’d brought backup, like I had.

Somehow, a host equal to ours.

Rows of Exiles and rebels stood at attention, flags billowing in the wind. A cold sweat broke out across my skin. We might have planned for this possibility, but seeing it was a liquid shot of dread.

“Looks as though the south has been busy,” Liam said.

The rest of the Shadow Swords rode up to see what was happening.

Bryn gasped. “Is that . . . ?”

“Shit,” Rígan whispered before glancing at me. “We can manage.”

“We still don’t know their intent,” Maya said. “Remember that.”

“She’s right,” Cianán said. “Talks are still possible. This is likely an intimidation tactic.”

“Well, it’s working,” I mumbled. Cianán shifted in his saddle. Rígan frowned, concern for me bleeding through. I wondered if she meant for me to see it. She must have realized I did; she nodded as though saying Believe in yourself .

I took a deep breath. “But we won’t let it stop us.” Rígan’s answering smile was small but proud. Wicked, even. It bolstered me further, and I turned Coirce to face our troops. I raised my voice. “We stop here.” Though no one showed their emotions, the air itself tensed. “Make camp back there, at the bottom. We’ll make Balor wait a little longer.” Rígan chuckled, and my sudden inspiration to play that last power card felt worth it, if only for her reaction. “When we’re ready, we’ll form up as planned. I’ll advance with Captain Cearlann and Cianán to meet Balor in the middle. We should begin negotiations shortly after.”

A soldier dismounted their horse, a familiar box of polished oak in hand.

“If you will, Your Majesty.” They knelt before me and opened the box, revealing my iron-and-emerald crown. Liam slid the crown on my head until it was snug above my brow.

I turned to those who’d offered to serve our country with their lives. Studied as many faces as I could. Prayed it wouldn’t be the last time I’d see them.

Prayed none would have to lift a sword.

“With any luck,” I said, “we’ll have new allies by sundown.”