“Why do they hate one another so much?” I ask, resting my head on his chest again.
“Her mother should never have been attacked by daemons. Dufaigh made a poor decision that held our families in The Meadows too long. She blames him for her death.”
“I think he is to blame for a lot of things,” I say, realizing I haven’t seen the man since we spoke. “Where did he go?”
“He grabbed Rhoswen and his door guards then left shortly after you and Perth came back in. Although, I think you were enjoying yourself a bit too much to notice.”
I stare into his emerald eyes. “Sorry. I—”
He smiles and traces my cheek with his finger, forcing me to close
my
eyes. “Please, do not feel guilty. I rather loved watching you dance and laugh. I cannot wait for the day we have a celebration like this.”
“Will we get one?”
“When we end this war, my love, we will have a celebration bigger than this one. The guest of honor will be the sun.” Squeezing me, he kisses the top of my head.
Cadman bursts through the double doors then rushes up to Arland, creating an entrance so loud everyone turns their heads to see. “Sir, I need to speak with Katriona.”
Arland drops his hold on me. “Lower your voice. She is right here, using her connection with Brit to speak with me. What do you need of her?”
Cadman draws in deep breaths, chest heaving as if no amount of air could help him recover. “I believe I have discovered why Wickward was infiltrated.”
“And that reason is … ?”
“Shifters, sir. The very same problem we had at Watchers Hall. Katriona was able to see through their disguise, and I need to know how.”
I glance around the room, hoping no one can hear us. “Cadman, I have no idea how that works.”
His red brows furrow, enhancing his wrinkles, reminding me how old he is. “You do not understand how it works, but what do you do?”
“Close my eyes and pray their forms are revealed to me.”
Arland laughs. “Have you prayed a lot recently?”
“More than you will ever know,” I say, smiling.
Cadman gets down on one knee then takes my hand, looking at me with utter desperation. This is the kind of fight I expected to see in High Leader Maher, in more of the people here, but everyone is complacent to rot to death.
“It is your magic … no, it is the old magic which belongs to every Draíochtan that makes you able to see through them. You must teach me how to use it. We leave in six hours. Will that be adequate time?”
“Stand up,” Arland says, narrowing his eyes and looking toward the head table. “
Now
.”
“Yes, sir.” Cadman stands. “I apologize for causing a scene, but I must know, I must save these people and bring them here—we need them for your army.” He tugs my hand, eyes wide and palms sweating.
“Close your eyes, Cadman, and focus on everything you love—not just the sunlight as you wished for on the top of that cave so long ago, but for
everything
. Concentrate love over your heart, let it grow inside you and turn to anger, anger toward Darkness and his daemons, toward whatever it is you seek to destroy. When that anger grows so big you cannot contain it in your heart any longer, allow it to spread through your chest, down your arms and legs, then command it to do what you want.”
“And that will help me see the shifters?” he asks like an eager student.
“No, that will be how you control old magic. To see the shifters, you must use the old magic, close your eyes and ask the gods to reveal the shifter’s true form to you. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I will practice this now. If it works, I will teach the others. Thank you.” He turns my hand over then places his lips in the center of my palm. “I will be in contact, sir. Watch over her.”
Arland claps Cadman’s shoulder. “No. Thank
you
. Be safe. I will see you soon, my friend.”
Arland watches his best warrior walk through the double doors, then returns his gaze to me. “The music is dying down, the people are returning to their seats. A kiss will be expected. Promise not to enjoy it?”
“Enjoying it is impossible. I will think of you and only you.” I place my fist over my heart in the same way he did for me. “I love you.”
“And I love you.”
“
I’m coming back
,” I think.
“
I know. And you’re not stupid; I’m sorry for saying it. I don’t know why I keep saying so many mean things
.”
“
I know you’re sorry. It’s okay.”
My connection to Brit, and Arland’s warmth, disappears. I’m floating through the great room again. I return to my body, and the strength of Arland is replaced by Perth’s small, cold fingers laced with mine. Finding my love in the crowd, I see Brit showing him some of the same affections I just did. I don’t know if she’s trying to keep consistent with how we love him or what, but it doesn’t make me feel good to watch. In fact, her head on his chest makes my heart hurt, my body ache. How will I survive two weeks of this? How will I survive another day of this?
Perth tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Stop staring at him, Katriona. People will notice.”
“Sorry.” First I’m apologizing to Arland for having too much fun, now I’m apologizing to Perth for looking at Arland.
I’m done
.
“Can we go back to our rooms now? I am exhausted,” I say, leaning my head on Perth’s shoulder.
He rests his head on mine. “My father has a speech planned, and my uncle wishes to meet you.”
I sigh. “Is it going to be like this every night?”
“Speeches, meeting people, and dancing—probably. You are the key to my father’s success, remember?”
“Arland said he went off with Rhoswen and the guards after we talked to him … are you sure she is not on our side?”
“I do not doubt my father will punish her publicly just to make you cave and speak against him. Do not fall for his tricks.” Perth lifts his head then draws my face toward his with his finger. “Shall we go meet my uncle?”
“I guess.” I take his hand then follow him out into the crowd.
We approach his Aunt Maura standing with a man who looks more like Perth than Perth’s father.
The thin man frowns when he notices us. “Perth, I was wondering when you would introduce me to your prize. Nice of you to finally bring her over.”
Perth puts his arm around my waist, drawing me near at the hip. “I apologize, Uncle Lorne, it has been a whirlwind of an evening. Katriona, this is my Uncle. Uncle Lorne, Katriona.”
I offer my hand but the same courtesy is not returned.
Uncle Lorne’s eyes have no visible iris, and his skin is closer in color to the gray coscarthas than that of a normal person’s. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine.”
Jerk
.
He tips his head toward Arland and Brit. “What do you think of your sister and her affections for that boy who did a terrible job protecting you?”
Noticing their linked hands, I scowl. “I cannot control who my sister loves.”
Lorne laughs. “Good answer. I like her, Perth. And to think your father thought he would need to force his hand to get her to marry you. Apparently you have inherited some of his charms, no?”
Disgusting
.
Perth smiles at me. “It appears I have—and a good thing, too; Katriona will make fine children someday.”
I have to force myself not to blurt out who those children’s father will really be.
“Speaking of my father and his charms, would you happen to know where he is? I expected a speech of some kind, and Katriona is exhausted—I told her we would rest after he releases us.”
Lorne straightens and uses his eyes to exchange some unspoken agreement with Maura. “Your father will not be available for the remainder of the evening. Go on to bed.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I will return Katriona to her room then meet up with my father.” Perth tugs my hand.
Lorne grabs Perth’s arm, yanking us back toward him and Maura. “On second thought, you should meet with him now. Say goodnight to Katriona then have Arland return her to her room. I will have Deverill and Cyric accompany them as well, so you or your father will not have any concerns.”
Perth turns to me. This is it, the moment where I have to make my Broadway debut, the moment where I find out how willing I am to do this.
“Are you going to be okay without me?” He strokes my cheek with the back of his bony fingers.
I nod. “I wish we had more time to spend together, but I understand you must speak with your father.”
He cups my cheek, sending chills across my face, sending a shock to my heart and knees. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” I wrap my arms around him and imagine the brave man I’m watching him become, the man who wants honor and a family and to do the right thing. Then I imagine Arland and pretend I’m going to kiss him, because I can think of nothing else to make me want to do this. Strong Kate is gone, replaced by weak Katriona who only cares about her heart.
Perth closes his eyes and leans into me. Our lips meet. He parts mine slowly rather than sweetly, like he’s never kissed anyone before. His mouth doesn’t open, but the longer we’re connected, the closer he pulls me into him, the harder he presses against me and then—
Everything is black. My stomach twists and rises into my throat. I’m going to be sick. Smoke from burning bodies fills the sky, making the air foul with the scent of charred hair and skin. Cries ring in my ears. Death is littered on the ground for miles. I look down at my feet and see Brit, gurgling, blood draining from the corner of her mouth and open wounds over her chest and arms.
“B-B-Brit.” I fall to my knees then press my hands against her cuts, apply pressure to stop the bleeding, but I’m too late.
She’s dying
.
“Who did this? Who killed her?” I scream but receive no response.
Body trembling, her eyes roll back in her head.
“No … .” I ball my fists and look up.
Daemons approach by the thousands, led by Brad who’s naked and covered in crimson. The Brad I knew struggles against Dughbal, stopping every few steps, slowly placing a foot forward, then making a considerable effort before moving another.
“K-kill him, Kate,” Brit says, eyes returning to the here and now. “You have to kill him. C-come b-back for m-m-me.”
Arland rests his hand on my shoulder—his warmth and smell give him away before I turn around. “You must leave her, Kate. Dughbal is your kill, and he is waiting for you.”
We’re surrounded.
“Foolish boy, do you honestly believe this pathetic Draíochtan woman can kill me?” The sadistic voice coming out of the guy with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a football player build, screams out insanity.
A tear falls from my chin then lands on Brit’s cheek. Closing my eyes, I think only of her and the life stolen from her, I think of all the times we spent sleeping, laughing, and crying together. I imagine the life she would have had if it weren’t for this god standing in front of me in my best friend’s body. She could’ve had Brad, she could’ve had love, she could’ve had everything she ever wanted.
Flames grow from my core and spread like wild fire. Arland ignites as well as Perth on my left and Cadman, Flanna, Saidear, Tristan, and so many others who still live and fight with us.
“Your ancient magic will not be enough to save you. Fight and you will die a horrible death, Katriona.” Dughbal licks his lips, the lips I’ve tasted, the lips that loved me once. “Give up and I will make it painless. Where you are going there will be peace.”
“There will be peace until you steal our powers and ruin the Heavens, too. I will not give up, I will fight you and I will kill you.”
“Very well. I rather enjoy a fight. Choose your death: swords, magic, or daemons?” Dughbal smiles, arms out at his sides, the tall, mangled coscarthas inching closer.
I toss my sword to the ground, glowing bright enough to illuminate miles of surrounding forest. “Magic.”
“Wonderful choice,” he says, raising his arms above his head. “Mharúgrá.”
Black fog stretches from Dughbal and engulfs Arland’s body, making him invisible against the night. He cries out, muffled but gut-wrenching.
“Not Arland,
no, no, no
… .” I run to him and close my eyes. “Save him. Save him, and kill Dughbal. End this
now.”
Light fills the sky, bursts from the ground, descends from the trees and spirals around Arland and the billowing fog. The closer the magic gets, the dimmer the sprites become.
Drive the sword through his chest like you do his daemons
. Griandor’s words replay themselves in my mind. I glance at my sword lying on the ground near my feet, pick it up and abandon my love to kill Dughbal—it’s the only way.
“You no longer wish to use magic?” He laughs and reaches out his hand, sword flying into his grip.
Marching toward him, I draw my claymore back and think of Arland’s love and my sister’s smile, then focus all my pain and anger into my heart. This will not continue. I will not lose anyone else.
Dughbal holds his arms out to the side and tips his head back. “Go ahead, child, strike me with your sword. I am a god. You cannot kill me.”
It cannot be this easy
.
I run to him then ram the blade straight through his chest. Thick black fluid oozes from his wound. He looks down himself, stumbling back a bit.
Dughbal’s weapon falls to the ground with a thud.
With two hands, he pulls my sword from his chest then drops it. The metal clanks off his blade. The wicked god drops to his knees. “I do not understand.”
I pick up my claymore, lift it over my head then drive it into his chest again. “You are a god, Dughbal, but your father took away your immortality a long time ago. You can be killed, and you just let me.” I twist the hilt, ensuring his death is painful.
Over and over I remove the sword, plunge it into him and watch as more of his evil seeps from him and into the earth. The red dirt stains black around him.
“He is dead, Katriona,” Perth says, clamping his hand on my shoulder and tugging me back. “We need to go.”
“
Arland
… .” I turn, but Arland is nowhere to be found. “W-Where … ?”