Chapter Forty-Six
Aemyra’s breath was coming painfully in her lungs and her legs were wobbling after carrying Fiorean down the steep staircase.
Hopefully, between the rebels in the city, the royal guard, and Thear’s trodach, Caisteal Lasair would be theirs swiftly. Surely as soon as they learned Alfred was dead the Covenanters would lay down arms?
Nael and Elear were already in the kitchen, huddled behind the enormous hearth with their children and two kitchen maids. Aemyra did not like the look of Elear’s complexion, and he proceeded to vomit when he saw Fiorean’s back.
Even Marilde seemed to recognize the seriousness of his injuries. She cleared the kitchen table and Aemyra laid Fiorean upon it. Trying not to think of how she had handled another body similarly not long ago, she steadied herself.
Colm and Brodie were embracing in the corner, father and son relieved to see each other again, and Aemyra had to look away.
Determinedly, she pulled Bronwyn’s brooch out of her pocket.
Fiorean’s hand shot out to stop her. “No. Use it for my brother,” he said.
Gritting her teeth and praying there was enough spirit magic inside the crystal to heal them both, Aemyra stomped over to Elear, who physically cringed away.
“What are you do—” Nael began as Elear recoiled.
With no idea what she was doing, but far more willing to experiment on Elear than Fiorean, Aemyra threw caution to the wind and focused her thoughts. Ripping Elear’s tattered shirt open, she pressed the crystal over his heart and summoned her magic and her intentions.
Like she was making another oath, she willed the spirit magic to heal him.
It had worked to take them through the stones, surely this would work too?
Eyes closed to avoid distraction, Aemyra felt the crystal grow hot and Elear’s heart rate became less erratic. When she opened her eyes, all trace of fever was gone.
He was blinking down at her with an awed expression.
“What was that?” he whispered.
Everyone in the kitchen was openly staring, but Aemyra didn’t have time to explain. Without uttering a word, she crossed the flagstones to where Fiorean was lying and pressed the crystal to his flayed back.
Once again, she summoned her intentions and the crystal grew hot. Suppressing a relieved smile, Aemyra began a prayer of thanks to Hela as the skin of Fiorean’s back began to knit together.
“Impossible,” Marilde whispered.
“Great Mother have mercy,” Colm added.
She felt Thear lean over her shoulder. “This is why you needed my crystal?” he asked, incredulous.
Aemyra was about to reply when the spirit magic ran out. Desperately, she focused her mind and begged the Goddesses to heal Fiorean completely. Nothing happened.
She flung the brooch across the kitchen.
“I need clean water, and honey!” Aemyra demanded, coming level with Fiorean’s face.
“It’s fine, I’ve healed from worse,” Fiorean muttered, attempting to flex his shoulder blades.
Aemyra eyed his back. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, but the wounds were still severe.
Nael handed her a jar.
“Not that one, that’s treacle,” Marilde scolded, switching it.
“You can’t fight like this,” Aemyra muttered, fingers fluttering over the flaps of skin as Fiorean groaned in pain underneath her ministrations.
“I’ll just pop out and ask the Covenanters to take a tea break then, shall I?” Thear drawled from where he was listening at the door.
“Aren’t your trodach supposed to be helping?” Aemyra asked.
“They’ll be on the other end. Just hope none of the Covenanters decide to run this way.”
Marilde grabbed her meat cleaver, looking delighted by the suggestion, and Aemyra fixed her attention on Fiorean to begin the cauterization with the minimal magic she had left.
Her back was aching and the spear injury throbbing insistently, but she pushed down her own pain at the sight of what her husband was enduring.
Ignoring Elear and Nael’s whispers, Aemyra used her magic and fingers in tandem during the stitching. It would leave a bigger scar, but it was more likely to stay closed. The kitchen maids were doing their best to distract the children.
“Sorry, I’m no Bronwyn,” she muttered.
The sounds of Sir Gavin mustering the city guard came through the window, and Colm breathed a sigh of relief.
“Won’t be long now,” he said, patting Brodie on the back and sounding as exhausted as Aemyra felt.
There had been a thousand Covenanters inside àird Lasair, but they hadn’t been suspecting a unified uprising.
Tearing the cat-gut thread off with her teeth, Aemyra hesitated as she eyed the mess of Fiorean’s back.
“I’d rather be ugly and alive than pretty and dead,” Fiorean muttered, his words muffled with his cheek against the table.
Thear quirked an eyebrow from where he was barricading the door. “Tough luck. You’ll be ugly either way.”
Aemyra threw the jar of honey at him. The warrior caught it deftly with a wink.
“Care to focus your attentions on the door?” she asked. “If any Covenanters come this way, you’re our first line of defense.”
“What do you need us to do?” Nael asked as the incessant shouting from the Covenanters grew louder.
“Dòiche is on her way to assist Sir Gavin,” Thear said, his eyes unfocused as he connected to his Bond. “My trodach are battling in the main hall, while the chimeras and rebels pick off every Covenanter in the city.”
Grinding herbs in a bowl, Aemyra poured in a few drops of water to form a paste.
Thear was cracking his knuckles as another loud thud sounded from farther up the corridor and Brodie broke away from his father.
Aemyra didn’t miss the way Brodie caressed Thear’s arm, and she lifted one eyebrow. Clearly there had been a development on the journey north.
Thear gave her a self-deprecating shrug.
Aemyra smeared the paste across Fiorean’s back, the hasty stitching finished.
“The Covenanters are disorganized and without a leader. No one is giving orders,” Thear reported.
“Excellent. That means we can win,” Aemyra said determinedly.
“This isn’t exactly how I imagined this war ending,” Thear muttered, looking around the kitchen filled with a cook, a handful of teary children, a fisherman, a scout, an injured king, and a queen who looked more like a healer.
“We fight and scream and flail and cry, but in the end we all die,” Elear proclaimed from the back of the room.
Fiorean and Nael exchanged brotherly looks of suffering while Thear turned to the wall and stifled a laugh.
“Well, now we are sufficiently motivated, I believe we should ready ourselves for evacuation,” Aemyra said, wiping blood from her hands as the first Covenanter tried the door. Marilde chivvied the children toward the pantry with Elear’s help.
Nael came to stand beside Brodie, sword raised.
Thear hastily added a second bench behind the door, back muscles straining with the effort of lifting.
“If you die today, your father better not withdraw his support,” Aemyra warned the chimera warrior with a slight smile.
Thear turned, an all-out grin plastered across his face. “Dying in battle he’ll forgive, rescinding your betrothal he might have more of an issue with.”
“Can I kill him for insubordination?” Aemyra muttered.
“Not in public,” Fiorean replied with a smile.
“A desperate Covenanter might do the job for you,” Brodie replied as the door began to splinter under the force of men on the other side attempting to flee the chimeras.
Elear looked between them like they were mad. Nael seemed to be enjoying the exchange.
Aemyra supposed it was like pyreside humor—when everything looked most bleak, all anyone wanted to do was laugh.
Fiorean smirked. “Aemyra communicates her love through violence. You should take it as a compliment.”
Finished tying the bandages, Aemyra eyed Thear over her husband’s back and knew there were no hard feelings between them when his expression softened.
As the door shuddered, Thear drew his sword slowly, as if he was going to relish what came next.
Fiorean got to his feet, the snowy bandages holding without a spot of blood marring the linen, and the two men exchanged a heated look.
“If you wish to fight the king consort, please do it after the war. I would like to enjoy it with a bottle of òmar and a comfortable chair,” Aemyra said, massaging her back.
Nael and Elear froze, eyes on their brother, and even Marilde raised her eyebrows.
“King consort?” Thear asked, facing Aemyra.
“Yes. We have now said vows both before Brigid and the Savior so if you have a problem with it—argue with the wall,” she clarified.
Her words were punctuated by calculated blows coming from the other side of the door as the Covenanters tried to hack it to pieces.
“Well, consider this my wedding present to you both,” Thear said eagerly. “I believe I have some Covenanters to kill.”
Elear disappeared through the trapdoor with the children, and everyone else readied themselves to pick off Covenanters one by one. Aemyra might have been mistaken, but those who had remained in Caisteal Lasair for the last few months seemed especially eager.
Fiorean picked up his sword from the ground with a rasp of metal, his jaw flexing with the effort it cost him.
Aemyra almost pulled him back as he took up his position beside Thear.
“If you die today, I’ll take care of her,” Thear said, his amber eyes fixed on the door.
Fiorean stiffened but did not turn his head. “I’ll save you a seat in Brigid’s halls when Aemyra runs you through for boring her to tears.”
With a grin, the chimera warrior and the dragon king stood shoulder to shoulder, ready to take down any Covenanter foolish enough to pass through. Nael hovered just behind them and Brodie’s beard twitched in anticipation.
This wouldn’t be like the battle for Edinbane, or even in the valley outside of Dildain. The war was already over; the Covenanters just refused to accept it.
So this mismatched group of servants and royalty would make their victory clear.
With a deep exhale, Aemyra anchored herself and let fire pour over her hands. The kitchen was lit up from the inside with the force of her magic, and Aemyra tasted smoke on her tongue.
“Brigid, bringer of light, stand with us today,” she began intoning, her voice steady. “Bathe us in your fire.”
The door cracked, the brass handle clattering to the floor.
“Protect us with your great power.”
The grunts of the terrified Covenanters were audible through the gaps in the door.
“Lend us your strength.”
Thear launched one of his knives through the crack, and Aemyra heard the dull slice of something being severed.
“Fill us with hope to walk this world in your light.”
Her voice rose to a crescendo just as the door finally gave way and a wave of Covenanters streamed through, their dark armor clanking.
“And ferry us to your halls with your flames!” Aemyra roared, summoning a rush of fire to her palm that mirrored Fiorean’s.
Thear staggered back, his knees almost buckling with the weight of the men pouring into the room, but Fiorean swept his sword above his head, death coating the blade.
The Covenanters hadn’t been expecting to meet warriors on the other side of the door, and half of them held no weapons.
Swiping a bowl of crushed hemlock into her hands, Aemyra upended it on the two men beneath her. Their faces screwed up against the toxic plant and before they could begin to cough, Aemyra’s dagger was red with their blood.
Thear and Fiorean remained directly in front of the door, but the tide of Covenanters was already slowing. Nael covered Fiorean expertly, having trained with his brother since childhood.
When they beheld the queen atop the table, the Covenanters halted with quaking knees.
Relinquishing her fire in favor of smoke, Aemyra said, “The women of Tìr Teine will never shrink themselves to be more palatable to men. You can all choke.”
Before they could beg, Aemyra flexed her fingers and smothered each Covenanter, burrowing into their lungs and making it impossible for them to draw breath.
She would have said something poignant once the smoke cleared, perhaps something that would have made it into a history book, if a sudden pain hadn’t seized her around the middle.
“Fucking Hela,” she cursed, her knees buckling.
Gasping, she struggled to free herself of her dragon, but Terrea’s mind seized onto her consciousness and wouldn’t let go.
Fiorean was by her side in an instant, bloodstained hands cupping her face.
“Now?”
Aemyra nodded, gripping his strong forearms as if she could claw her way back into her own mind.
Another pain rippled through her as though it would tear her in half.
“Yes,” Aemyra said, hissing in a pained breath. “Terrea’s laying.”