Soldiers led the prisoners to a large wooden dais where a giant man in a black cloak waited with a hulking axe.
“You really think they would execute someone for a poem?”
Tadhg’s hand fell to the hilt of his dagger. “I’ve watched one of my friends be murdered because a human accused him of being rude.”
All it takes is one.
One false accusation.
One lie.
And a life would be snuffed out.
I had heard the criers spreading messages of hate, seen the mercenaries collecting claws and teeth and eyes. I had been taught to avoid the Danú and fear the dark before I had learned the alphabet. But I had never connected the dots. Never allowed myself to see what was really happening to the native population of Airren, because it wasn’t happening to me.
“It’s not about a poem or taxes or even magic.” Tadhg blew out a frustrated breath. “It’s about being born different in a world that sees no value in diversity. It’s about living under a regime that desires ultimate power over its citizens, one that is willing to murder anyone they believe could be a threat.” He turned to me and touched a finger to my tangled hair. In a quiet voice laced with sadness, he said, “It’s about people with fear so ingrained that they won’t even sit in a field at dusk to look up at the stars because they believe the darkness is reserved for monsters.”
Thwack
Thud
The crowd cheered.
More people pushed past us, including a man with a boy on his shoulders, eating sweets from a bag, watching the executions like he’d watch a puppet show.
Tadhg dropped his hand. “Most of the monsters I’ve met have lived in broad daylight.”
Thwack
Thud
Cheer
In that moment, I realized I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill Tadhg’s brother, even if he had killed Aveen. I needed to let my sister go. I needed to give Tadhg the ring and let him go too. “I’m so sorry, Tadhg.”
“As am I.” A sigh. “Come, let’s get you to the inn.” Tadhg gripped my elbow and turned me away from the cheering.
The inn was safe and warm and secure. Its thick plaster walls would drown out the horrifying cacophony echoing through the cobbled streets. I glanced over my shoulder to watch the smallest creature climb up onto the dais, her slim shoulders hunched over, like she could hide from her brutal fate by making herself smaller.
“This is wrong. We need to do something.” I shook free of his hold.
When his gaze flicked toward the dais, his lips pressed into a thin line. “What do you suggest we do?”
Thwack
Thud
The cheering grew louder.
“I don’t know. But it’s so wrong that they should be killed for no reason at all.” What if Ruairi had been the one caught shifting? What if Tadhg had been accused of being rude? What if Padraig had been caught using his glamour?
“Saving a handful of us won’t change anything.” Tadhg’s flexed hands banged against his thighs. “This is all part of a systematic extermination that’s been going on for centuries, and it won’t stop until magic is wiped off the island.”
Thwack
Thud
Cheer
Something rolled across the ground, landing against my foot. Sightless eyes stared up at me; a gruesome puddle of blood and fluid leaked from the neck of the abcan’s tiny severed head.
Someone started screaming.
A hand clamped over my mouth. “Be quiet. You’re drawing everyone’s attention.” Tadhg dragged me away from the executions. People saw us and stepped aside. In the distance, a cheerful yellow inn rose above the crowd.
Safe.
Warm.
From the corner of my eye, I saw two soldiers kicking something.
A child.
They were kicking a child in a cape.
The child fell forward, catching himself on the cobbled street with gnarled hands covered in red hair. An elongated nose peeked from beneath his hood. A heavy brow fell forward over dark, beady eyes.
Not a child. A grogoch.
The grogoch jerked when the soldiers’ boots connected with his torso.
Thwack
Thud
Cheer
“He didn’t do anything, did he,” I said, unable to turn away.
“Most likely not.” Swearing, Tadhg raked his hands over his face. “Keelynn, listen to me. I need you to . . .”
Tadhg’s command faded into the background. One soldier stomped on the grogoch’s arm. A sickening crack pierced the air, followed by a haggard scream. The other soldier reached for his sword.
They were going to kill him.
Those men were humans.
Monsters from my world.
“GET OFF HIM!”
The soldiers’ heads jerked toward me.
I barreled into the one who had stomped, knocking him off the grogoch. My fists pummeled his black armor until the skin on my knuckles tore open.
He caught me by the hair, twisted, and kicked my legs from beneath me. My knees cracked against the cobblestones, shooting pain through my body. Something heavy and unyielding shoved against my back, pinning me to the ground.
“What the hell do you think yer doin’, lady?” the soldier snarled.
My eyes met the grogoch’s. “Thank you,” he whispered, his lips and teeth stained red with blood.
There was a hard thud and a curse, and the second soldier fell to the ground. His helmet rolled away, revealing the face of a young man not much older than myself.
“What the—” The soldier on top of me collapsed beside his fallen comrade.
“Of all the feckin’ days for you to want to commit treason.” A pair of strong hands lifted me to my feet, and Tadhg’s shadow-filled eyes met mine. “Get to the inn. Now.” Tadhg let me go, handed me his bag, and shoved his shirtsleeves over his forearms.
The people were no longer watching the executions. Now they were watching us.
Men in black helmets forced their way through, swords drawn, sending ice through my veins. “Tadhg! Come with me!” We could escape together.
When he looked at me again, his lips curved into a menacing smile. “You need to run.”
I took one halting step backward, then another, watching Tadhg help the grogoch to his feet and force something into the creature’s hairy hand.
People elbowed me in their haste to see what was happening. Some shouted words of encouragement; others spewed curses and slurs. It took three soldiers to get Tadhg on the ground. Another two to shackle him with iron.
Tadhg’s eyes met mine through the crowd, and he grinned. Blood dripped from a cut in his lip as they dragged him away. His heels left twin streaks in the muck on the street.
Thwack
Thud
Cheer
17
Fog drifted along the river in the early morning light. The sun had yet to breach the horizon. My boots clicking on the cobblestones and squawking seabirds were the only sounds of life at this hour. Lack of sleep burned my eyes. I’d spent the entire night pacing in my room and praying for Tadhg to return.
He never did.
According to the innkeeper, the prison was in the bowels of the castle. A door of rusted iron bars blocked the entrance. I rattled them until a man appeared from the darkness, a heavy ring of keys jangling from his leather belt as he approached.
“Good morning.” I offered him a full smile.
He ran a dirty hand down his dark leather vest, smelling of sweat and rotten fish. “Ye shouldna’ be here. Tis no place fer a lady.”
This was no place for anyone. “But I need your help. I’m seeking information on a man named Tadhg who was arrested yesterday.”
He glanced over his shoulder, into the darkness. “I dinna think—”
“Please. There’s no one else I can ask.” I loosened the purse at my waist and withdrew four silver coins. “Here. For your trouble.”
The guard’s tongue flitted acr
oss his rotted teeth and then he held out his hand. “Tadhg, eh?” The coins clinked when they dropped into his vest pocket.
I nodded.
“I ‘spose I could ‘ave a look.” He crossed to a concealed notch in the wall and withdrew a small leather-bound book. “What’s yer man’s surname?” He flipped through the pages, then stopped and slid a finger down the entries.
“I’m not sure.” Did the Danú have surnames?
The guard lifted his eyebrows, no doubt thinking I was an empty-headed dolt.
“He’s a bit taller than myself, with dark hair and green eyes.” I didn’t want to mention Tadhg’s ears in case they hadn’t noticed.
“We’re not in the ‘abit of keepin’ records of hair ‘n eyes.” He adjusted the worn leather belt around his thick waist, rattling the keys. “Do ye know his crime?”
Groans echoed from the hallway. Did any of them belong to Tadhg? The pit forming in my stomach widened. “He saved a grogoch from being beaten.”
“I hate the damned monsters as much as anyone,” the guard muttered, tapping a blunt nail against the page, “but saving one’s no more a crime than killin’ one.”
“He may have attacked some soldiers in the process.”
The guard’s face shifted into a tight grimace. “When did it ‘appen?”
“Yesterday. In the afternoon.”
“If he was arrested yesterday . . .” He closed the book. “What I’m trying to say is, there were no new prisoners brought in after the sentences were carried out.”
He may have continued speaking.
He may have stopped with that damning statement.
All I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears as I stumbled from the stuffy enclave out onto the murky street.
Tadhg could have escaped. Evanesced before they had a chance to sentence him. Except I had seen the iron clamped around his wrists. His magic would’ve been useless. Had he been taken somewhere else? To another jail?
Or had he . . .
Oh god.
Had he been executed with the rest of them?
The bridge.
I had to check the pikes on the bridge. Had to know. To see for myself.
By the time I reached the stone bridge arching across the fog-drenched river, my heart and my stomach and my lungs were close to failing.
The first head belonged to a man with blood-smeared blond hair. A gaping mouth and sightless eyes watched the sea birds circling overhead. Gore and blood dripped down the iron.
Crows pecked at the yellow eyes of two furry black pooka.
The abcan, the far darrig . . .
And, at the very end, an empty pike stabbed the sky.
Not here.
Not here.
Where was he?
I weaved through men in dark overcoats and women strolling arm in arm beneath pastel parasols. Sweat dripped into my eyes and down my spine by the time I reached the cheerful yellow inn. The savory scent of bacon wafted from the tables full of patrons having breakfast, engaging in loud, boisterous conversation.
In my haste to reach the staircase, I collided with the back of a chair. Rubbing my sore hip, I muttered an apology and raced upstairs. How would I find him? Where did I begin? If I knew how to get in touch with Ruairi, I would’ve done that. Perhaps I could find a creature somewhere who’d be willing to talk to me.
I threw open the door to my rented room and froze.
Tadhg was sitting on the unmade bed, gripping the mattress with both hands. When he saw me, his lips curled into a slow smile. “Hello, Maiden Death.”
His clothes appeared clean; there was a wine-colored cravat tied perfectly around his neck. I took a step forward. Then another. “You’re alive.”
A chuckle. “Disappointed?”
Disappointed? I shook my head. “Relieved.” I didn’t think I’d ever felt such relief.
He stood and straightened his breeches where they’d slipped down his hips. “Afraid I’d leave you to locate the Gancanagh on your—”
My mouth crashed against his with the force of a thousand fears. His lips were cold, but his tongue was fire and flame, darting and caressing. He lost his fingers in my hair and clutched my head to his as if this, this kiss, was life itself.
Perhaps it was. Perhaps it was enough to bring me back from the sorrows death had inflicted.
I tugged his cravat free. Struggled with the buttons on his waistcoat.
“You don’t want this,” he growled against my lips, his fingers fumbling with the fastenings on the front of my dress.
“Yes, I do.” And this time, it wasn’t about an escape. It wasn’t about getting lost. It was about being found.
Insistent hands dragged my dress until it pooled around my ankles, freeing my body from its black shroud. “Turn around.”
I twisted and flattened my hand against my pounding heart. The laces on my stay slipped through the eyelets. Loosening. Loosening. Loosening.
“Magic would be quicker,” I said, not recognizing my own voice.
Tadhg let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “I’m giving you time to change your mind.”
The stay met the same fate as my dress. “I’m not changing my mind.” I turned to face him. “I want you.”
“Wanting me and being with me are two very different things,” he murmured against the hollow of my throat.
I freed the hem of his shirt from his breeches. With a flick of his wrist, his shirt and undershirt vanished. Our kisses grew frenzied, desperate. His solid, scarred chest slammed against me, urging me back and back and back until my legs collided with the mattress. And we were falling. Falling into the bed. Twisting. Twisting so that he was on top of me, holding his weight on his elbows, nudging my knees apart with his thigh. His mouth was on my throat, tasting my thrumming pulse with his tongue.
Tadhg’s magic swirled around us like dancing shadows, tantalizing, stealing my sanity. I felt myself losing control, inhibitions slipping away with each exhale.
Every blessed inch of him rocked against me, slowly, ever so slowly. I wanted him to speed up but couldn’t find the words, and then he . . .
Stopped.
Why did he stop?
“Keelynn?”
WHY. DID. HE. STOP?
“Look at me.” His voice broke. Perspiration beaded on his furrowed brow. “Are you sure?”
He’d asked it as if my mind wasn’t gone and could be changed.
“Yes.” I wasn’t sure about the future or anything beyond this moment. But this. I was sure about this.
He shuddered, and when he brought his lips to mine, he tasted of pure magic, sugar and sin. Powerful vibrations flooded my throat, pulsing with feral possession. His belt jingled as he slid the leather through the buckle with one hand and shoved down his breeches.
It was impossible to know where the magic ended and he began until he nudged against me, and a broken cry fell from my lips. That was all Tadhg.
My nails clawed down his back, digging into his tensed muscles. It wasn’t close enough. I needed more, more, more of everything his breathless rocking promised. Over me. Under me. Inside of me. Filling and plundering and plunging. Deeper and deeper, even as I climbed higher and higher. Fire and ice and wind, a chaotic storm building to a height. His teeth raked across my skin, feasting on flesh, dining on mutual desire.
And when the world shattered, I used my last breath to cry his name.
18
Tadhg collapsed onto the bed next to me, a thin sheen of perspiration glistening on his shoulders and chest. I loved his uneven, labored breathing. I loved the cocky tilt to his lips, like he knew he’d stolen my coherent thoughts and fractured my life and was proud of it. So bloody proud. He grinned like he was waiting for me to ask for them back, but I didn’t want them. Thinking would lead to reality, and reality would lead to goodbye.
Instead, I rested my head on my hand and traced a finger down the strong shape of his sculpted jaw, over the pulse at his neck, to a silver line across his throat that hadn�
��t been there when we were in the shifted cottage.
“Tadhg?”
The dark lashes on his closed eyes dusted his cheeks. “Hmmm?”
I tapped the scar. “Where’d you get this?”
He caught my fingers and brought them to his cold lips to kiss the pulse at my wrist. “Let’s just say that it wasn’t a very pleasant stay with the soldiers of Kinnock and leave it at that.”
Oh god. They’d tortured him because of me. If his magic hadn’t healed him, he could’ve been killed. It was a good thing this was over. He didn’t belong in my world, just as I didn’t belong in his. When I let him go, he could return to Tearmann where he’d be safe. “I’m so sorry.” It wasn’t enough for the pain I’d caused. “If I’d have stayed silent, they wouldn’t have taken you.”
His lips slid to my palm. “What you did was reckless and foolish.”
Too reckless. Too foolish.
“But I’m so feckin’ proud of you.”
“You . . . you are?”
A nod. “You took a stand against your own. You stood up for one of us. You did something.”
I had done something.
And it felt good. It felt right.
His fingers brushed the emerald ring, reminding me our time together was almost through. Saying goodbye was going to be harder than I’d ever imagined. “Is this ring the only way to break your curse?” I asked.
“Curses,” he whispered.
“There’s more than one?”
“At this point, I’m more cursed than not,” he said with a humorless laugh, drawing idle circles on my bare shoulder. “And no. There is one other way.”
“What is it?”
His finger stilled, and he drew back to look at me. For the first time in my life, I felt seen. “You’re the one who reads fairy tales. You tell me.”
I thought of all the stories I’d loved as a child. Tales of evil witches and the unsuspecting princesses who fell victim to their wicked curses. And the dashing heroes who saved them despite dire circumstances. All of them had one thing in common. “True love’s kiss.”
A Cursed Kiss (Myths of Airren Book 1) Page 18