Chapter 17
Kori
“You’re late,” Declan says, his voice tight as we approach.
“Traffic was a nightmare,” Kane replies dryly. “All those sheep crossing the road.”
Declan’s jaw clenches, but before he can respond, Wren steps forward.
“Good to see you again, Kori,” she says warmly, though there’s a question in her eyes. “Didn’t expect you’d be joining us.”
“That makes two of us,” I admit with a small smile. “But Kane can be persuasive.”
“Don’t I know it,” she agrees, linking her arm through mine as if we’re old friends. “Come on, I’ll fill you in while the boys have their testosterone showdown.”
She leads me a few steps away, leaving Kane to face Declan and Rory. Kat follows us, her auburn hair gleaming in the sunlight.
“So,” Wren says once we’re out of earshot, “Kane stayed at your cottage last night.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “On the sofa. Nothing happened.”
“I didn’t think it did,” she says. “Kane may be many things, but he’s not the type to make a move on someone who just found out their husband’s cheating.”
“He told you about that?” I feel a flash of betrayal.
“No,” Kat jumps in. “You did. In the car yesterday, remember?”
I relax slightly. “Right. Sorry, I’m a bit on edge.”
“Understandable,” Wren nods. “This whole situation is... complicated.”
I glance back at Kane, who’s standing with his arms crossed while Declan gestures vigorously about something. Rory watches them like a tennis match, occasionally throwing in a comment that irritates both parties equally.
“What exactly are we looking for here?” I ask, turning my attention back to the women.
Kat pulls a folded paper from her pocket—a copy of the riddle. “‘Where the stones kiss the sky and dragons once flew,’” she recites. “Tara fits the first part. It’s one of the highest points in the area, and there are ancient stone monuments all over.”
“And the ‘ancient throne’?” I ask.
“The Stone of Destiny,” Wren explains. “It’s said that the true High Kings of Ireland were revealed when they sat on it. The stone would cry out beneath them.”
“That’s... poetic,” I say, trying to hide my skepticism.
Kat laughs. “It’s probably just acoustics or something, but the mythology is pretty powerful. The point is, we think that’s our starting point for the ‘seven steps east, three to the north’ part of the riddle.”
I nod, processing this information. It all sounds like something from a fantasy novel, but the intensity in their expressions tells me they’re taking it very seriously.
“And what happens when we find whatever’s hidden?” I ask.
The women exchange a look that makes my stomach tighten.
“We’re not entirely sure,” Wren admits. “But given that Russians might be involved...”
“It could get dangerous,” Kat finishes.
Great. Just what I need—international intrigue on top of my personal drama.
“Look,” Wren says, clearly sensing my apprehension, “you don’t have to come with us for the actual... whatever this is. You could wait at the visitor center.”
Part of me wants to take her up on that offer.
The rational part that came to Ireland for peace and quiet.
But then I look over at Kane again. His shoulders are tense, his expression guarded as he argues with Declan.
He looks like a man drowning in a sea of revelations, desperately trying to keep his head above water.
“I’m coming,” I hear myself say. “Kane asked me to be here, so I’m here.”
Wren studies me for a moment, then nods. “Alright. But stay close to one of us, okay? And if things get weird—”
“Weirder than they already are?” I interrupt with a small laugh.
She laughs too. “Fair enough. But you know what I mean. If it gets dangerous, you run. Don’t try to be a hero.”
“Trust me, heroism is not on my agenda. I just want to help Kane get through this.”
Kat tilts her head, studying me with a curious expression. “You’ve known him for what, a few days? And you’re already this invested?”
I shrug, not sure how to explain the strange connection I feel to Kane. “He saw me when no one else did,” I finally say. “On the plane, when I was falling apart. He noticed. That counts for something.”
Before either woman can respond, the men join us. Kane looks annoyed but relatively calm, while Declan has the resigned expression of someone who’s conceded a battle but plans to win the war.
“We’re heading up to the Stone of Destiny,” Declan announces. “Everyone clear on what we’re looking for?”
We all nod, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to be looking for beyond “something mysterious.”
“Let’s go then,” he says, leading the way toward a path that winds up the gentle slope of the hill.
I fall into step beside Kane. “Everything okay?” I ask quietly.
“Peachy,” he replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Declan’s not thrilled I brought you along. Says I’m putting you in danger.”
“And what did you say?”
A small smile tugs at his lips. “That you’re tougher than you look. And that you’ve already seen me at my lowest—when he stuck me in the sand—so there’s not much more damage I can do to my reputation.”
“Charming,” I say dryly, but I’m secretly pleased he defended my presence.
We walk in silence for a few minutes, following the well-worn tourist path up the hill.
The day is clear, offering stunning views of the surrounding countryside.
In any other circumstance, I’d be taking photos and enjoying the history of this ancient site.
Instead, I’m scanning the ground for... what, exactly? Secret markers? Hidden doors?
“There it is,” Rory calls from up ahead, pointing to a standing stone about waist high.
We gather around what must be the Stone of Destiny. It’s smaller than I expected—just a rough pillar of weathered stone, unremarkable except for its history.
“So, this is the ‘ancient throne’?” Kane asks, looking unimpressed.
“According to legend,” Declan confirms, pulling out the copy of the riddle. “Now we need to find where ‘seven steps east, three to the north’ leads us.”
Rory pulls a compass from his pocket. “East is this way,” he says, pointing.
We follow him as he paces off seven careful steps, then turns and takes three more to the north. He stops at a seemingly random patch of grass.
“Here,” he announces.
We all stare at the ground. There’s nothing visible—no marker, no unusual formation, nothing to indicate this spot is special in any way.
“Now what?” Kane asks, voicing what we’re all thinking.
Declan kneels, running his hands over the grass. “There must be something...”
I scan our surroundings, suddenly aware that we’re attracting curious glances from the few other tourists visiting the site. We must look strange—six adults intensely examining an unremarkable patch of grass.
“Maybe we’re being too literal,” I suggest. “Seven steps east could be seven meters, or seven stones, or—”
“Wait,” Wren interrupts, pointing to a slight depression in the ground near where Rory is standing. “What’s that?”
We all crowd around to look. At first, I don’t see anything special, but then I notice it—a small circle etched into the soil, barely visible unless you’re looking for it.
Declan carefully brushes away the dirt, revealing what appears to be a metal disk about the size of a coaster, set flush with the ground.
“Is that a coin?” Kat asks, leaning closer.
“No,” Kane says, his voice strangely tight. “It’s a seal.”
He kneels beside Declan, brushing more dirt away from the edges of the disk. I can now see that it’s embossed with some design—a Celtic knot pattern surrounding what looks like a family crest.
“The MacGallan seal,” Rory confirms, his expression grim.
“What does it mean?” I ask, feeling increasingly out of my depth.
“It means we’re in the right place,” Declan says, examining the disk more closely. “But I don’t see how this helps us. There’s no way to open it.”
Kane runs his fingers around the edge of the seal, his brow furrowed in concentration. Then, without warning, he presses his thumb firmly in the center of the design.
Nothing happens for a moment, and I’m about to suggest we try something else when Kane hisses in pain, jerking his hand back.
“What the hell?” he exclaims, staring at his thumb where a drop of blood wells up.
“It pricked you?” Declan asks, looking alarmed.
Before Kane can answer, a low rumbling sound comes from beneath our feet. The disk begins to glow faintly blue, and the ground around it shifts slightly.
“Back up,” Rory warns, pulling Kat away from the disk.
We all take several steps back, watching in astonishment as the patch of earth around the seal sinks downward, revealing a small compartment beneath.
“‘Only by the blood that flows within,’” Wren quotes softly. “It needed MacGallan blood to open.”
Kane stares at his bleeding thumb, then at the open compartment. “That’s... medieval.”
“Effective, though,” Rory points out.
Declan kneels again and carefully reaches into the compartment, pulling out a small metal container about the size of a cigarette case. It’s made of tarnished silver, engraved with the same crest as the seal.
“Should you open that?” I ask, suddenly nervous. “What if it’s booby-trapped too?”
“One way to find out,” Declan says, though he handles the case with obvious caution.
He slides his thumbnail under the clasp and slowly lifts the lid. We all lean forward, holding our breath.
Inside lies a folded piece of paper and what appears to be an old-fashioned key.
“Another riddle?” Kat asks, sounding exasperated.
Declan unfolds the paper carefully, the aged parchment crinkling under his fingers. His eyes scan the contents, and his expression shifts from anticipation to confusion.
“Its coordinates,” he says. “And another message.”
“What does it say?” Kane demands, crowding closer.
Declan reads aloud. “‘The dragon waits where the earth meets the sky, where the old blood still flows and secrets still lie. What was taken is hidden in plain sight, guarded by those who walk in twilight.’”
“More cryptic bullshit,” Kane mutters.
“And these coordinates,” Declan continues, “they’re for somewhere in Northern Ireland.”
“The border region?” Rory asks sharply.
Declan nods, his expression grim. “Near Armagh.”
The sudden tension in our little group is palpable. Even I, with my limited knowledge of Irish geography, know that the border regions have a complicated history.
“What’s in Armagh?” I ask, my voice barely audible over the sudden pounding of my heart. The gravity in everyone’s expressions makes my skin prickle.
“Nothing good,” Kane mutters, exchanging a loaded glance with Declan.