Chapter Seventeen
Saoirse
Arianna and Rion fought side by side in a frenzy, clearing a path so wide that other warriors rallied behind them. It hadn’t taken long to restore some order, especially with Arianna eliminating the Fae of Pádraigín as if it were her personal mission.
Saoirse smirked. It was about time she’d grown a backbone. Saoirse just wished it hadn’t taken torture to ultimately bring out that side of her.
Saoirse slammed another dark creature aside, then returned her focus to her own line and the half-breed fighting with just as much ferocity beside her.
Zylah had refused to leave Saoirse’s side, even when presented with the option to heal the injured.
Not that healing was a top priority at the moment.
The Dark Fae were a never-ending torrent.
Alec needed to hurry; surely he’d received the warning by now.
Saoirse scanned the throng of Fae, heart hammering in her chest. There’d been no time or opportunity to tell Zylah why she was drifting away from Rion and Arianna. Zylah followed anyway. The two would keep one another safe. She had other priorities.
The Fae fighting and fleeing were predominantly from Móirín. More precisely, Levea. Their numbers told her most had survived up until this point. So where was she? The last Saoirse knew, their mother had gone to stay with Avalon. Which meant she’d have been among those fleeing.
Saoirse’s head whipped around, and she slashed through another Dark Fae. The creature squealed in pain, its too-long body curling in on itself. Saoirse studied the hooked feet, an unnatural curve to the heel that forced the creature to walk too far forward.
Unnatural.
She’d spotted Avalon’s sea of magic in the distance. The male fought hard, keeping an entire section at bay with his power alone. Others battled alongside him, likely his personal guard, but there was no mistaking the power thrumming from the High Lord himself. Was Eimear with him?
Saoirse scented the air, though it did little good with the symphony of magic surrounding them. There was too much blood and carnage. Too much magic.
A large beast slammed into her from the side, and Saoirse cursed her distracted mind.
An air current tore the creature away, ripping through flesh in a matter of seconds.
She briefly met Zylah’s gaze, then kept moving.
Pride flew through Saoirse’s chest at the sight of the half-breed dancing through her opponents, blade in hand.
Her movements were simple and repetitive.
If she were fighting one on one, she’d be a liability, but out here, where the enemies were constantly changing, they were more than effective.
The wind shifted, giving Saoirse a momentary breath of fresh air. She turned southward and scanned the battlefield.
Her stomach dropped.
Another wave, this one just as numerous as the last, was headed straight for them.
She scanned the Fae fighting. Even with Rion, Arianna, and Móirín’s High Lord, they wouldn’t survive a second assault.
Most were already exhausted, their magic weakening.
And once that line broke, the Dark Fae would overwhelm the civilians in a matter of minutes.
It wouldn’t matter how many warriors Alec marched out. There’d be nothing left.
Saoirse grabbed another Dark Fae by the throat, this one strangely humanoid, its skin nearly translucent and veins bulging.
It snapped its sharp fangs at her, but before those equally jagged claws could rake across her arm, Saoirse speared it through the heart.
She let the vine expand, then whip out to strike several more of a similar variety across their torsos, knocking them all to the ground.
Zylah rushed forward and shoved her blade through another that had gotten too close.
Saoirse stepped back. She’d pushed too far away from their comrades.
Saoirse scanned the line again, her heart aching, but she had a responsibility to keep Zylah safe.
Saoirse slammed the hilt of her blade against another body.
She spun, opened her mouth—Saoirse’s head whipped southward, snagging on a lone figure.
A group of Fae fought in a tight circle around her walking form, beating back monsters to allow her passage.
She was walking straight toward the next line of monsters.
Eimear’s indigo cloak billowed around her, tattered and blood-soaked as if she’d been fighting as well. The High Lady unclasped it, and the wind tore it away from her back, where it sailed high above the chaos.
Saoirse shoved through the crowd, fighting with renewed vigor.
She pushed aside warriors and let her magic tear monsters limb from limb.
She focused on that lone figure and the red hair that had just begun to regrow.
Saoirse knew it would be long and elegant again in just a few decades.
Her mother deserved those decades. Tears sprang to her eyes.
She just had to reach her. She’d give her the time. She swore it. She’d protect her.
Saoirse pushed even harder, the magic burning through her veins as she forced it beyond its limits. But it was as though a current shoved her back. She wouldn’t make it. She wasn’t strong enough. Again.
No.
Saoirse summoned the vines and let them whip out around her, shoving the enemy in every direction at once. They closed back on her in seconds, swallowing her progress. Eimear was alive. Her mother was right in front of her. She just needed to get a little closer.
“Mother!” Saoirse’s cry of panic had Zylah tugging on their bond. Saoirse ignored it, praying her voice would carry above the clashing steel and snapping teeth.
She wasn’t sure if Eimear heard her or simply sensed that Saoirse was near, but the High Lady glanced back, stared straight into her daughter’s eyes, then gave her a resigned smile.
No …
Saoirse’s throat went dry as she watched the warriors surrounding her mother fall one at a time, their final roars lost to the symphony of battle.
The Dark Fae closed in, sharp claws ready to tear through flesh, but despite the horrors surrounding Eimear, there wasn’t a trace of fear seeping from her.
Then she let that iron bracelet fall from her wrist.
Saoirse watched it hit the ground in slow motion, the world zeroing in on that slender piece of metal. It spun and reflected the sun’s light, then bounced and landed in a bloody patch of grass. Eimear faced the horde head-on, spread her arms wide.
Then the High Lady of Brónach erupted.
Saoirse made it all of one step, her throat straining against the force of her scream before a violent blast sent her sprawling backward.
Saoirse’s world spun once, twice, three times before she was able to right herself again.
She shoved forward, desperate to close the growing gap between her and her mother, but she was knocked back again.
She skidded against the ground from the invisible force of her mother’s magic, hardly noticing rocks and debris cutting into her palms and knees.
A strangled sob burned its way up her throat. She fought to rise and staggered all of two steps before a set of hands grabbed one wrist and wrenched her back. Saoirse pivoted, ready to toss the Fae aside but froze upon meeting ochre eyes.
“Move,” Zylah desperately demanded, tugging Saoirse back again. Saoirse took in the female’s panic, whipped her head around, then dove over Zylah’s body, surrounding them both in thick branches right before a mass of greenery swallowed them whole.