29 #2
Killian grabbed me from behind, wrapping my body up with his arms and prying me away from the fight.
A year ago, I would have let him. I would have curled up against him and allowed him to drag me away from the fight.
But now, I was clawing against him, bucking in his hold, my eyes focused on Raegan and Raegan only, who had already started raining death down on the fairies.
His ceadan, including Shea and Aisling, Ciara and Liam, were quick behind him, each of them with their swords out. The vibrations of each swing meeting each defence shook the room, causing me to groan as Killian continued to haul me backwards.
“Olivia, please,” Killian begged as he threw me up against the wall. “I can’t worry about both of you at once. And if you truly care about Raegan, about his safety, you will allow me to go and protect him.”
His eyes, a dark, moody sort of green, blinked at me several times until I finally nodded and let him go. He flicked his attention over my shoulder, to the window that I had not realized he placed me in front of. “Keep her safe, Urram.”
“Why is the brute trying to speak to me?” my parrot-dragon caraid cawed, dipping his beak and fanning his wings to either side of himself. Killian regarded the two of us one more time before nodding and turning on his heel, his sword high in the air, a bellow of rage tumbling from his lips.
All I could do was watch. Horrified. Disgusted.
Scared. I had seen the pixies slaughter one another not so long ago, but there was something different about being this close to them.
I could locate each scream, placing a face to the voice as bodies fell.
I could smell the strong metallic scent of blood, knowing exactly what body it was pulsing from.
Every attack sent a shudder through the room and every parry displaced the air I was breathing.
Everything changed in the span of a single second.
One second. That was all it took. That was all that was needed to derail every logical thought, to numb out every voice in my head.
The world around me slowed, everyone’s movements becoming sluggish and delayed, and I was left with one thing.
One thing, that above everything else, I knew would somehow always be the most important thing.
Raegan was distracted. He was crossing blades with a fairy, his teeth pulled back, his face contorted into a barbaric wrath. He was so busy, so focused, that he didn’t see Caden sneaking up on him.
In that slowed-down, painful second, I desperately searched for Killian. I searched and I searched and I searched, but I couldn’t see Raegan’s strongest and most dedicated ceadan.
It was just me. Only me.
Olivia Loughty, small blade in hand, the only person that seemed to be aware of Caden’s sword lifting, its trajectory true and eager towards Raegan’s back.
He might have survived the plunged sword from Uamhas last year, but he would not survive this.
I knew it. It was some ancient ringing in my body, some attuned humming that roared those words in my head.
Raegan is going to die.
That’s all I heard as I pushed off of the wall.
Raegan is going to die.
That’s all I heard as Urram started to screech for me to get back.
Raegan is going to die.
That’s all I heard as feathers behind me rustled and a shadow grew as a dragon of silver scales took form, his claws scratching for purchase on the exterior of the castle, his tremendous maw parting in the opening.
Raegan is going to die.
Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed outside of that chant.
Both of my hands clutched the handle of my dagger. I lifted it, higher and higher, until it was over my head. My feet pounded against the dining hall floor, propelling me farther and faster across the space until I was right there.
Time slowed even more.
Raegan sucked in a sharp breath as some sort of instinct caused him to turn.
He saw me first. His eyes wide, knowing and accepting of his fate registering across his face.
I drew my arms down in one foul, powerful swing.
Blade bit through clothes. Blade bit through skin. Blade bit through muscle. Blade bit through bone.
I felt the exact moment that Caden died.
The dagger was heating, swarming with warmth as his blood trickled along it and the depth at which I had sunk it.
Then his body convulsed in agony, only one second before he dropped to his knees and I released the dagger at last. He fell into a heap at my feet, his lifeless, blue eyes turned up to the ceiling.
A look of complete and utter shock on his face as the last thing he saw was me.
I froze.
That moment lasted two. Five. Ten.
An hour.
Six.
All I knew was that time froze yet continued, and I was in a whirlpool of emotion and fear and adrenaline that whipped me around in every direction, threatening to send me deep into a bottomless abyss or high into an unforgiving reach.
In that timeless space, I glanced down at my hands.
They were shaking, shaking like they had never shaken before.
I was a Vet, I was a surgeon, and my hands never shook.
Not even when they were covered in blood.
But this blood wasn’t on top of gloves – no, this blood was real, steaming, and spreading across my revealed palms by the second.
Blood.
I killed someone.
Blood.
I killed someone.
Blood.
I killed someone.