Finn gulped. Perhaps this was why Oighear had chosen Loinnir, and why Eywen gave her to Finn. She found herself wishing she could talk to the long-dead Aos Sí warrior. Had he known she would need protection from her people? Protection only Loinnir could afford her?
She wrapped the Faie Queen’s shroud back around her waist, knotting it securely, then turned her gaze to Iseult. “Let us leave this place. Kai will ride with me, just in case they try to track him again. Perhaps Loinnir will nullify their magic even from a distance.”
No one argued.
Loinnir patiently allowed both Finn and Kai to climb upon her back. They continued their journey well into the night, never once discussing stopping to rest. It was clear everyone understood just how close they had come to losing everything.
Chapter Four
Ealasaid pressed her back against the tower wall, waiting for Maarav’s signal. She’d argued against a nighttime assault. She wanted to at least give Lord Gwythern a chance to negotiate, but Maarav had quickly put the argument to rest. Terrified of the Faie, Gwythern never left his estate, and allowed few to enter. No one but his closest advisors had even seen him in months.
She strained her eyes to see in the darkness, wishing she could summon a bolt of lightning to temporarily illuminate her surroundings. She pushed a lock of curly hair behind her ear and squinted in the direction of the estate’s main gate.
A dark shape darted across her field of vision, then another. Slàine’s assassins. Tired of lodging at the inn, they’d been more than willing to take part in Maarav’s plan.
She heard an oof sound as one of the guards was taken down. Gritting her teeth, she resisted the urge to rush forward and verify that the assassins weren’t actually killing anyone. It had been agreed upon that they would be tied and gagged, nothing more.
“You’re supposed to be hiding,” a voice whispered behind her.
She nearly jumped out of her skin, then whirled toward the voice.
Maarav gazed down at her, looking like a disembodied head with his black clothing and hair in the darkness.
She glared at him. “I am hiding,” she whispered. “I just needed to be close enough to hear your signal.”
He raised a dark brow at her. “And close enough to make sure no one harms the guards?”
She frowned, but could not argue. “I can take care of myself,” she said instead. “There’s no reason for me to hide farther away.”
He leaned his face close to hers. “Yes, my girl, I am well aware of your abilities.” Straightening, he gazed past her toward the gate.
“Is it time?” she whispered, unable to see whatever he’d noticed.
He turned to smile at her, then lifted his hands to his face, cupping them around his mouth. He let out a loud hoot, sounding remarkably like an owl, then let out a second.
From somewhere within the gates, another hoot echoed, then another from the guard tower above them.
Maarav looked down at her. “Remember what I told you. Let Slàine’s people do all the work. Just stay out of sight until we find Gwythern.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he was already off, running toward the gate like a silent shadow. Cursing under her breath, she pulled the hood of her cloak up over her hair and hurried after him.
Reaching the gate, she looked around for Maarav, spotting him climbing up a rope that had been draped down from a secondary guard tower. She rushed over toward the rope, reaching it just as Maarav disappeared into the tower above.
She peered at the rope’s end dubiously. She’d grown up on a farm, and was not weak for someone of her size, but she’d never climbed straight up a rope before, and the tower opening was a long way up.
“This way,” a voice said from behind her, nearly startling her out of her skin a second time.
She turned to see Tavish grinning behind her, his red hair covered by a black head wrap. Silently he took her hand, then dragged her back toward the tall iron bars of the gate. Another black-clad figure waited there, holding one side of the gate open just enough for her and Tavish to slip through.
“I never did like climbing up ropes,” Tavish muttered.
Dashing inside, Ealasaid had no time to observe who had let them in as they darted off into the night.
Tavish grabbed her hand and started tugging again. “We’re to go around the back,” he whispered as he coaxed her to run. “Rae should already be there to let us in.”
“What about Maarav?” she hissed.
Tavish smirked at her as they ran. “He’s more of a barge in through the front door type.”
Panting as she tried to keep up, Ealasaid merely shook her head. If Maarav broke his promise that none would come to harm she’d . . . well, she didn’t know what she’d do, but whatever it was, it would be rather unpleasant for Maarav.
They ran across the central courtyard, then scurried behind the tall shrubs lining the side walls of the estate. She could see black clad shapes darting around here and there, but no guards. The assassins had been quite thorough.
With Tavish still holding her hand, she nearly slipped on the icy grass as they reached the back of the main building. Tavish deftly pulled her out of her skid, then tugged her toward the wall of the estate.
“There may still be guards on this end,” he whispered, “so keep your wits about you.”
She didn’t appreciate the implication that she’d lost her wits, but she was so nervous she merely nodded.
Tavish grinned, then dropped her hand to approach the large double doors at the back end of the building, leading out to expansive gardens, gray and withered from the cold.
As he crept toward the door, someone shouted from the nearby shadows. Reacting instantly, Ealasaid summoned a bolt of lighting seconds before a sword-wielding guard rushed at Tavish. The lightning hit the man in the chest, and he dropped to the ground.
Wide eyed, Tavish looked up at her as she hurried toward him, then down at the guard. The man was very, very still, and Ealasaid could smell burned flesh as she approached. Her lightning had hit the metal breastplate the guard wore, scorching it black.
“And here I was worried about you killing someone,” she muttered in disbelief.
With a roll of his eyes, Tavish grabbed the man by the arms and dragged him into the nearby bushes. Ealasaid watched on, shaken.
The body hidden, Tavish returned to her side. “Are you well?”
Guilt coursed through her. What if the man had a wife and children? He might have been innocent, good, and she’d taken his life.
“No,” she answered. “Let’s get this over with.”
Not seeming to comprehend her internal conflict, Tavish hurried back toward the double doors.
Pushing away her guilt to be dealt with at a later time, she followed him. As she neared the double doors, one side swung inward, revealing Rae’s dark skinned face. He wore no headwrap like Tavish, but had donned the same all-black attire.
“Way to clear out the guards,” Tavish hissed. “I nearly got run through with a sword. If it weren’t for little lady lightning bolt here—”
“Quiet,” Rae ordered, then disappeared into the building.
Tavish shrugged, his smile never faltering, then spun his hand into a sweeping bow, admitting Ealasaid to the premises. She walked into the darkness to find Rae waiting inside, amidst several bound guards. A few appeared to be unconscious, but all seemed to be breathing.
She opened her mouth to thank Rae for following orders, but her words were stolen by a massive clattering sound somewhere upstairs, followed by frantic shouts.
Suddenly any annoyance she had with Maarav was wiped away. She rushed past Rae toward the nearest set of stairs. Tavish hissed after her to stop, but did not follow.
Maarav cringed at the sound of heavy clattering, followed by shouts. What had those fools done now? He lowered himself the rest of the way down from the window he’d been climbing through, dropping silently to the floor. If Ealasaid was involved in the chaos, he’d
skewer everyone responsible for putting her in harm’s way. Tavish would be first, as he’d been entrusted with the task of looking after her.
He hurried across the ornate rugs bedecking the long hall he’d entered. Everything was dark and quiet in this wing of the estate, but that meant little. Anyone could be hiding in the dark rooms bordering the hall, and could rush out at any moment. He hoped to honor his promise to Ealasaid, but if it was a choice between his life and another’s, he’d always choose his.
Knowing he was fully capable of dealing with threats as they came, he raced down the rest of the hall at full speed. At the end was a door, muffling the sound of continued shouts on the other side.
He paused for a moment to listen. Someone was barking shrill orders, partially drowned out by the sound of boots thudding and armor clinking. Perhaps the commotion hadn’t been caused by any of Slàine’s people. It seemed like Gwythern was desperately rousing more guards to protect him.
Maarav placed his hand on the door handle, ready to peek inside, then quickly turned at the sound of footfalls on the nearby stairs. He pressed his back against the wall and waited, ready to take down whoever was rushing toward him.
He darted out as the figure flew past, then had to stop himself from putting her in a strangle hold. Ealasaid kicked out, bruising his shin with such force she went tumbling to the floor.
His thundering heart belied his outward calm as he peered down at her. “Do you care to explain yourself?” he whispered.
Even in the darkness he could see her blush.
Sensing a change in the commotion, he darted toward the floor, gripped her upper arms, and hauled her to her feet. With no time to explain, he dragged her into a nearby room just as the door he’d been listening by thudded outward. Guards swarmed into the hall.
“I could have sworn I heard something out here,” a guard hissed.
Pressing Ealasaid against the wall near the room’s door, Maarav quieted his breathing. He could not be sure how many more guards waited within the adjacent room, so it was best to stay put and wait for more of Slàine’s people to join them.
A fine tremble started in Ealasaid’s body, pinned against his. She was so fierce half the time that he often forgot she was not used to the life of a mercenary or assassin. She was used to living a quiet life on a farm . . . before she’d been chased away, and her family slaughtered.
He lowered his face and pressed his cheek against hers, silently urging her to stay calm.
Footsteps sounded directly outside the room’s open door, then passed.
“Check the guard towers outside,” ordered an investigating guard. “Wilkes should have reported in by now.”
Several sets of footsteps thundered away.
Maarav relaxed, then stepped away from Ealasaid, releasing her. She gazed up at him. “I killed someone,” she whispered. “If I wouldn’t have panicked, I could have just knocked him down, but I killed him.”
He wasn’t quite sure what to say. He’d taken so many lives, he felt nothing at the thought of taking another. “You fought at Uí Néid,” he attempted to console.
She shook her head. “I showered lightning bolts into a crowd of soldiers. I likely only panicked them, or perhaps singed a few.”
He sighed. They didn’t have time for a moral crisis, but she just looked so . . . sad.
Not knowing what else to do, he kissed her cheek and whispered, “We’ll talk about it later.” Though when later came, he was quite sure he’d have no clue what to say.
Ealasaid followed Maarav out into the hall. The soldiers that had come to investigate had disappeared down the stairs, and the door to the adjacent room was once again shut, though murmuring voices could still be heard inside.
She looked to Maarav for instruction. She’d come to the conclusion that Gwythern was likely behind the closed door, but many other men were too. They were so close to achieving their goal, but where were the rest of Slàine’s people?
As if summoned by her thoughts, Tavish appeared on the stairs. He crept up slowly until he noticed them, then hurried up the rest of his ascent.
“You can’t just go running off like that during a mission,” he hissed, glaring at Ealasaid. “Have you lost your mind?”
He raised his gaze to Maarav standing behind her, then audibly gulped. She turned to observe Maarav’s deadly gaze. A gaze she’d never seen him give until that moment.
“You were supposed to watch her,” he growled.
Tavish began to back down the stairs.
Maarav started to go after him, but Ealasaid stopped him with a hand on his chest. “I ran off,” she explained. “There was no stopping me. It was not his fault.”
Maarav had no chance to reply, as the nearby door swung open, revealing a plump man with a perfectly groomed, graying beard, and hair that had once been red, but was now white at the temples. He wore a fine silk nightshirt, and held a lit candelabra in his hand. Behind him stood a few other men and women, though none appeared to be soldiers.
He looked up at Maarav and gulped. “Oops,” he squeaked, then stepped back, raising his free hand and candelabra in surrender.
Maarav stepped around Ealasaid to place himself between her and the small gathering of nobles within the room. She assumed the plump man was Gwythern, judging by the jewels on his fingers, along with how those in the room yet looked to him for guidance.
Maarav stepped into the room, claiming the space Gwythern had relinquished. Ealasaid moved aside as Tavish, having gathered his courage, walked in after him.
“Stay back!” Gwythern shouted, cowering further back into the room to stand with his fellow nobility. He held up his hands as if to ward off a blow, even though all Maarav and Tavish did was enter the room and stare at him.
Still in the doorway, Ealasaid turned as someone hurried up the stairs, then took a step further to the side of the door when she realized it was Slàine. Maarav had told her not to fear his long term mentor, but Ealasaid still found the woman unnerving. She’d seen her fight more than once, and knew Slàine could easily slit her throat in the blink of an eye.
With only her pale eyes showing from within her black headwrap, Slàine raised a gray eyebrow at Ealasaid, then strode past her into the room to address Gwythern. A few more assassins hurried up the stairs and followed her in.
“Your men have all been captured,” Ealasaid caught Slàine explaining. “You will submit to our terms, or suffer a similar fate.”
Ealasaid peeked back into the room as a few of the men and women gasped. Gwythern was practically trembling. “Wh-who are you?” he stammered. “What do you want?”
“We are An Solas,” Ealasaid blurted, stepping into the room. If she truly wanted to make a name for her group, she needed to represent them. “And we would like to protect Garenoch while offering a safe haven to magic users.”
Gwythern’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “M-magic?” He turned his gaze back to Maarav, the most imposing of the group, as if wondering what sort of magic he might wield.
Ealasaid sighed, sincerely hoping the man wouldn’t wet himself. A few more assassins hurried up the stairs. They passed Ealasaid as they entered the room, then muttered to Slàine that the mission had been fully accomplished, all guards had been captured.
Slàine turned back to Gwythern. “How big is your dungeon?”
“D-dungeon?” he stammered, his face growing increasingly flushed.
The nobles behind him began to back away, glancing about nervously for an escape route.
Slàine huffed irritably, then turned to Tavish. “Find the dungeon. Transport the majority of the guards there.” She turned back to Gwythern. “I hope you have enough cells to hold everyone.”
“No!” Ealasaid argued, directing her gaze to Slàine. “We only wanted to negotiate. The guards are not to be held prisoner.”
Slàine raised her gray brow at Ealasaid once more. “So you would set them free to stab us in the back at their first convenience?”
&nb
sp; “Slàine,” Maarav muttered. “Ealasaid is in charge here. If we have given our allegiance to An Solas, we must defer to her wishes.”
“Not if those wishes are foolish,” Slàine snapped.
Ealasaid bristled, ready to argue further, but Tavish stepped forward. “Now, now, perhaps we should not argue in front of the hostages.”
Slàine and Maarav both glared at him, then turned back to Gwythern. “Over there,” Slàine demanded, nodding toward the a long table and chairs on the opposite end of the room.
Gwythern startled, then hurried toward the table with Slàine prowling right in after him.
Maarav looked to Ealasaid. “If you’re hoping to negotiate, this is your chance. If Gwythern will not meet our terms, we’ll have to go with Slàine’s plan.”
Ealasaid sighed, cast a wary glance at Slàine’s back, then proceeded toward the table, followed by Maarav. Tavish and the other assassins remained to keep an eye on the lesser nobles.
“Lord Gwythern,” Ealasaid began, approaching the table as he and Slàine sat adjacent each other. “The world is changing,” she continued, “and the Faie coming forward is an inevitability. We must band together, and we must use your estate as our base. It is the most fortified location in the Southeast.”
She took a seat, lacing her hands together atop the table. She hoped she looked cool and collected, but the look Slàine gave her said that she, at least, saw through the act.
While Gwythern hunched over, a women standing with the nobles glared at her fellow captives, then stepped away from the group, drawing Ealasaid’s attention. She was an entire head taller than Gwythern, with steely gray eyes, and hair just a few shades lighter. She wore a heavy red brocade coat over her dressing gown, making her appear large and stately.
“The magic users attract the Faie,” the woman explained, boldly approaching the table. She stopped a few paces away, then looked Ealasaid up and down in her seat. “Scum like you are the reason we’re in this whole mess to begin with.”
Maarav stepped forward to her defense, but Ealasaid raised a hand to stop him. “It’s alright.” She turned her attention back to the woman as she stood to address her. “And you are?”
Queen of Wands (The Tree of Ages Series Book 4) Page 5