Chapter Twenty-Six
“Keep talking,” Aemyra said tightly. “I’m going to need an explanation for everything before I believe a single word you say.”
Katherine straightened her shoulders and seemed to accept the challenge.
“I was the one who sent the note with Kenna the night she died. Alfred told me of his plan to slaughter you all in your sleep in the temple catacombs. I had to warn you.”
Aemyra felt the ground under her feet tilt as she remembered the note clutched in Kenna’s fist, an arrow embedded in her back. It had been signed with a K.
K for Kenna, or K for Katherine?
How could it be true? Katherine had been the one behind Evander’s coronation, her marriage to Fiorean…everything.
“Why did you send Fiorean to chase me out of the city only hours later? Why set a trap to take me prisoner in the Silent Forest if you wanted to save me?”
Katherine avoided looking at Draevan as he began impatiently pacing the tiny cell. “Fiorean could hardly do otherwise when Alfred sent a dozen Covenanters to watch him. It was capture you or kill you.”
“Convenient,” Draevan muttered.
Katherine gave him a withering look. “I got Aemyra out of the dungeons before Alfred could make her disappear. I announced a public betrothal to my son to ensure your daughter’s survival at court.”
Memories of her time in Caisteal Lasair flooded Aemyra’s mind.
Every time a priest had been alone with Aemyra, Katherine had arrived to interrupt. Maggie had been assigned as chaperone to ensure she was never left alone, and Fiorean had only let her out of their chambers when escorted.
Aemyra had thought it was to stop her from escaping; she had never entertained the possibility that they had done it to keep her safe.
Steeling herself, she asked the question she had been dreading. “The day Alfred sanctioned the assault on me, how did you find out?”
“One of his closest acolytes was escorting me after tower service and we overheard him talking,” Katherine said. “We alerted Fiorean immediately.”
“Who is ‘we’?” Aemyra asked through gritted teeth.
Katherine’s throat bobbed. “Elizabeth and I.”
Aemyra flexed her hand as the promise mark flared. Katherine’s words corroborated Elizabeth’s story.
The mark had not faded after killing Fiorean because she had made a mistake.
Even as Aemyra closed her eyes, Terrea threatening to pull her into the Bond, Draevan seemed unable to accept Katherine’s words as truth.
“Then you stopped the assault out of some lingering guilt,” Draevan spat, drawing Dorchadas with a threatening slide. “You were Alfred’s closest companion. You didn’t want the priestesses to oath themselves to Aemyra—”
Katherine leaned forward in her chair. “If the priestesses had oathed themselves to Evander, a less powerful male ruler, Alfred wouldn’t have slaughtered them and Kenna would still be alive.
I might have arrived in Tìr Teine prejudiced against Dùileach, but how could I hold to those beliefs after birthing four sons blessed with magic?
Kenna was the only one who noticed my inner turmoil and became my unlikely ally at court.
Why else would she have risked coming to the caisteal that night? ”
Aemyra was shaking her head. “But you hate Dùileach. Fiorean told me how you despise the dragons. You never wanted your sons to Bond.”
Terrea was nudging her mind, but Aemyra ignored her.
“I never wanted my sons to suffer the same fate as my husband. All I ever wanted was to keep them safe.” Katherine drew in a shuddering breath. “I was not lying when I said I sought to bring you into the family in the hopes that you would succeed where I had not.”
Her eyes were on the promise mark.
“I need you to confirm it,” Aemyra whispered, hardly able to breathe.
Katherine wrung her hands, looking as though she was weighing her choice of words.
“Alfred has been using Fiorean’s love for his family to control him. He has been a puppet king, allowing himself to be used and tortured by the priests so no harm would come to us.”
The words hit Aemyra in the chest like a physical thing and her control of the Bond slipped, a flash of red hair flickering through her mind before it was gone.
“No. Fiorean was working with Alfred. He wanted the crown and didn’t care how he got it,” Draevan said stubbornly.
The lines on Katherine’s face looked more pronounced, her cheeks hollow. “Maggie and Elizabeth have told you that Fiorean helped them get out?”
Aemyra nodded.
“Did they also tell you that Charlotte was killed by a Covenanter when she attempted to break into the nursery and retrieve her sons?” Katherine asked. “When she fought him, he forced himself upon her before strangling her.”
At this news, Aemyra had to reach for Riya to steady her, and even Draevan looked nauseous.
Katherine continued, “Those are the types of people we have been living alongside. Fiorean gave himself up to save us all. He convinced Alfred to send me away, under the guise of summoning my father’s armada.
He has been turning the city guard against the Covenanters in secret, finding a way to get the princesses to safety, all while pretending to the wider court and territory that he was king to appease Alfred and keep his nephews and brothers alive. ”
The dungeon swam and Aemyra had to hold on to Riya for support as Aervor’s furious roar filled her mind.
“Aemyra?” Draevan asked, his eyes glassy as he felt Gealach respond to Terrea’s unsettled emotions.
Katherine was growing insistent. “I cannot believe how quickly you thought Fiorean had turned his back on you. My son was the most loyal of us all.”
Aemyra couldn’t believe this. She couldn’t. If it was true, then she had killed her husband in cold blood when he had never betrayed her at all.
It would mean she had killed an innocent man.
No wonder Brigid had not returned her magic. She was unworthy to call herself queen.
The dungeon faded as Terrea and Aervor’s frantic emotions sucked her into the Bond. Memories of Fiorean filtered through. The memories she had wanted to see for days but now dreaded.
He watched Aemyra walk through the tower, ivory dress pooling on the floor at her feet. She had looked glorious in gold, but she was breathtaking in white.
Goddess, she was beautiful. Even with that blazing look of hatred on her face.
It was too much, but Aemyra was ensnared between the minds of two dragons and powerless to stop the flood of emotions Aervor was sending her way. The onslaught would break her mind apart, Aervor’s revenge for killing his Dùileach.
His innocent Dùileach.
She actually managed to move his sword. That hadn’t happened in years.
Fiorean was so surprised, he almost failed to intercept her next swing and he summoned fire to his palm. It was going to take far more force to get her to leave than he had anticipated.
This brave, stupid woman was going to be the death of him…
“No. He betrayed me,” Aemyra muttered, clawing at her head to get away from Aervor’s memories. “He b-betrayed…”
Pain lanced through Fiorean’s shoulder as she shoved past him, that sweet scent lifting from her skin as she strode away. Behind her back, where she couldn’t see, Fiorean inhaled. He would never again be able to eat cranachan or drink òmar without thinking of her.
His wife lived to torment him, but all he could think about was if she tasted as sweet as she smelled…
“No. Let me out,” she said desperately, tugging at Aervor’s consciousness like she was trapped in spider silk.
Fiorean rose from the throne, carefully masking his inner feelings. “Your only birthright is a talent for hammering steel and a hasty temper. A legacy as unremarkable as it is forgettable. Do us all a favor and give up the crown before anyone else you love dies.”
The words physically pained him, but it was nothing compared to the utter devastation he saw on his wife’s face.
Only hours earlier she had been subjected to horrors he could never have imagined, and his blood boiled having to restrain himself beside the man who had given the order, but if he did not do this now—they would all die.
The minute Sorcha had been discovered missing, Alfred had moved his Covenanters into Caisteal Lasair.
Kolreath had intimidated Aervor to the point of petrification.
The cobalt dragon was now curled in his nest, memories of how the golden dragon had injured him and killed his former Dùileach Daegal trapping him with fear.
Fiorean knew his limits. Without his dragon, even with his magic, he could not take on a thousand Covenanters alone. Certainly not if he wanted to keep his family whole.
His family…
Aemyra.
She had to leave the city now. Give him time to find a way around Alfred’s planning, let him appear to be sympathetic to their cause so he could help his family.
If she would only leave before Alfred unleashed the new rejection agent on her Dùileach.
He had spent the night bound by chains dipped in it, his magic burning in his veins.
Even now, the thought of summoning his flame made a cold sweat break out on his forehead.
He would endure it for them all. He could control this. He could fix this.
He had to save her. It didn’t matter what they did to him—his wife had to survive.
“Terrea,” Aemyra panted, Fiorean’s memories overwhelming her as she begged her dragon to help her leave. She didn’t want to see this; it was worse than anything she had endured under the effects of Riya’s tea.
Pain lanced through Fiorean’s back as Alfred’s favorite lackey brought the whip down on his already flayed skin. His throat was so raw from screaming that he barely made a noise. Aervor was roaring his fury from the mountains, but Kolreath kept him at bay, perched on the highest turret.
At least his brothers’ wives had escaped. This pain was worth their freedom.
“You are nearing the end of your usefulness,” Alfred said from the shadowy corner. “We can better control Kolreath now he is eating again. Once this war is over, the people will be free from Dùileach oppression and benefit from our balanced, moral rule. Just as we restored peace to Tìr ùir.”
The whip cracked down again and Fiorean tensed against the shackles binding his wrists and his magic.
With any luck, the princesses had made it beyond Kilmuir.
Alfred continued. “You will cease these dramatics if you don’t want your brothers or nephews going the same way as poor Charlotte. Now. Fix yourself. The nobles need to see a strong king now the false queen has recruited the chimeras.”
With a plan forming in his mind, Fiorean shoved his fury down and remained kneeling before the Athair like a browbeaten dog.
Alfred’s laugh was a thing of nightmares.
As if Aervor was determined to solidify his dead Dùileach’s innocence, Aemyra felt one last memory wash over her mind. Fiorean was crouched over Aervor, his flayed back rubbing horrifically under his tunic.
“Brigid, please let her see past her hatred,” Fiorean muttered.
He had accelerated the plan. Sir Gavin would muster the royal guard to protect his nephews and brothers. He would join Aemyra in Balnain and when the people witnessed him fighting for the queen, they would have no choice but to accept him.
Even Draevan Daercathian would not turn away the assistance of a third dragon.
“I hope you are ready,” he thought, praying to all the Goddesses that his wife would listen to him.
Not a threat, but a desperate plea.
He truly hoped she was.
“NO!” Aemyra roared.
Finally wrenching herself back into her own mind, she fell back against her father, chest convulsing and beating her own head as if she could force the memories she now possessed out of there.
She had been wrong. So fucking wrong and blind and stupid.
Riya was in front of her, cradling her face. The laird knew, knew without a doubt that what Katherine had said was the truth.
“Aemyra, what is it?” Draevan asked.
Hela would take her for this.
“Fiorean never betrayed me,” she whispered. “He saved us.”