Chapter Forty-Eight
Forty-eight
Saoirse
We’re playing dice when it happens.
Six-sided pieces carved of bone and painted with woad tumble to the ground as the bells begin to ring, drawing Aisling to sit up straighter, her lips parted in a silent no.
Callen is next, springing to their feet catlike, already at the window by the time Aidan makes it through the door.
“Fire! They’re saying a fire’s been spotted in the northeast grasslands.”
But Callen shakes their head. “That’s not what those bells are. Fires get the—”
A carnyx sounds, brassy and low, shaking the walls of the keep as it had rattled me once to the bones, the night of the Damhsa.
Footsteps race down the hall outside—guards shouting orders, weapons passed back and forth. Lorcan stirs from where he was sleeping in a patch of sunlight, Brona still curled into his chest. Tavin’s sitting up, gripping his thigh, eyes locked on Callen as he slowly shakes his head.
“If the carnyx is for a fire, then the bells are for—”
“Gray sails!” The shout carries down the hall, waking Brona, who sits up, a knife already in her hand. “Gray sails on the horizon!”
My stomach drops to my feet. “Maccus? How—”
“I’m sorry.” Aisling speaks so fast I can’t see her lips move. Her eyes are big enough to swallow her whole face. “I-I’m so sorry, I thought…”
“Ash.” Callen steps closer, their whole frame taut. “What did you do?”
Aisling shakes her head, hard—then harder, a sob tearing out of her throat. “I thought it would take him longer. Thought we could get the negotiations started if I-I told him to come here. It was strategic. We’re on Ashen Flame—you’d be mad to attack their warriors.”
“Mad is exactly what he is.” Callen shoves their hair back, white-blond strands falling like ruffled feathers behind their head.
But somehow, I manage to stand up. Reaching for the bedpost as the room starts to sway. “He’s not mad.”
“Then what is he?”
“Cruel. Calculating.” I glance toward the window, jumping as that low, deep hum of the carnyx streams in on the wind. “Gods.”
“I’m sorry!” Aisling says again, her voice growing frantic. “Kiara promised we’d get her back, but what if she waited too long? Etain is ill, and—”
“I know.” I take an unsteady step forward, then gently touch her arm. “It—it was going to happen anyway.”
“When we were prepared,” Callen snaps. “When we had Kiara by our side.”
“They’ll be back.” I have to believe that, even as my eyes drift toward the sky, a stream of smoke trickling into the blue far across the dunes. “Soon—but until then, we have to get ready.”
Rolling my shoulders back, I face the others. “Aisling, is there a vessel here we could take if we had to? A place to board a ship and sail out?”
Aisling wavers, tears still streaming down her face. “It was—supposed to be a surprise.”
“What was?”
“Kiara’s had a ship built. To replace Faolan’s. It wasn’t in the main docks, it’s—”
“To the east?” At Aisling’s nod, Tavin walks over to the bed with a slight limp and starts shoving things in his bag. “I know where it is. I’ll gather our things and have them sent.”
“But it’s not ready yet!”
“Then we’ll take another.” My heart starts pounding like a war drum as I glance out the window, the carnyx rising again. “The rest of you, arm yourselves with whatever you can. Kiara was right about one thing: for now, Maccus is still playing by the rules, but—”
“What about when he doesn’t?” Callen searches my eyes. “When he takes you by force? Or uses another soulstone and puts you on the ground?”
Brona rolls to her feet, the sleep completely gone from her face.
“That’s where the wolves come in.”