Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
THERE IS ALWAYS VENGEANCE
Ornella
My mind was still reeling from the meeting with the other riders and Nuala as I followed Ciaran and Rian to where my cousins were being held prisoner.
Rian was planning to kidnap Amira and bring her back to the Autumn Court.
He would threaten Riordan with her life in order to keep the Vale King from collapsing another court.
And then Ciaran wanted to kill her.
Was this the reason I had been compelled to save and provide for a dying witch that day? Rapport? So I could be the one to lure Amira into a trap and bring her to the Autumn Court? Had I really been made her keeper all this time only to now become her executioner?
I had given everything for her. My time. My power. My protection. My life. But now…
Now there was nothing that could justify this gaping hole she’d left in me when she allowed Sage to be taken. There was no apology. No reasoning. No forgiveness.
I steeled my mind against the questions plaguing me with uncertainty. Questions that the Tithriall had not seen fit to answer even when I had screamed them last night. Surely if they were not worthy of answers, then they were not worthy of being asked at all.
The yurt where my cousins were being held did not appear much different than any of the other tents, but it did have a wider berth around it. There was no campfire outside with rowdy fey shouting their greetings or rising with reverent murmurs when Rian passed.
There were two orc guards posted at the entrance who both bowed to Rian with a level of esteem that was rarely observed among their kind.
And they barely even glanced at Nuala whose unique beauty would have usually drawn immediate interest. But tucked under Rian’s arm the way she was, she might as well have been invisible to them.
But what continued to astonish me was Rian’s humility as he inclined his head to them in mutual respect before he ducked inside the curtains they held open for him.
I had seen how power corrupted, I had been the victim of ego and entitlement, so I could not help but wait for Rian to finally reveal his true face.
He would have been perfectly within his rights to become drunk on his own power with the world at his fingertips.
After Sage was taken from me, I had not had the chance to really process just how fucking powerful the Autumn Prince truly was.
Strong enough to tear the Vale apart if he had chosen to and strong enough to survive having Light magic shoved into his gut.
He was so much more powerful than any of the males in the Rowan Wood, and yet he was anything but egotistical or entitled.
He actually seemed to deeply abhor the idea of disrespecting the authority of the Sua, even when their stubbornness was threatening his people.
He did not want to conquer cities despite the fact that the ruling nobles were so consumed with greed and war that they would destroy themselves.
And then there was that bitch, Aoibheal, who was so weak that she had to resort to using the Fuath to protect herself. With a loyal army at his back, Rian could easily take Ahnnaòin from her, and yet such domination seemed like the farthest thing from his mind.
Whatever his reasons, I was starting to feel a tentative trust in him. He had already earned my respect, but now there was a part of me that thought…
Maybe he should just take over the whole court.
I reached the orc guards, and it seemed that my little display in the mess hall earlier was effective because they lowered their heads rather than ogle me. So I was sure to incline my head respectfully back the way Rian had.
Inside the yurt, I saw a wide open space with blank canvas walls.
The furniture was limited to a table that had been laden with fruit, cheese, and bread, and there were a few chairs under it.
In the middle of the room, where the firepit should have been, was a ward that was humming with so much power it caused the air to waver.
And inside the warded space sat my cousins who looked petulant.
Finn was awake now, his injuries having healed a bit since I dragged him through the portal. They shivered in the autumn cold, hugging their knees against their chests. They had attempted to grow some insulation in the form of fur and feathers, but it was wilting in the cold.
Rian had taken Nuala over to the table to sit while he made up a plate of food. He told her to eat well before the interrogation began, and I assumed that was because what he was about to do might take away her appetite.
With the witch situated, Rian picked up a chair with one hand and carried it toward the ward.
“Do you serve all your whores like a whipping boy?” mocked Arren once Rian had set the chair down with an unnerving and methodical grace in front of them.
Rather than become offended, Rian merely shrugged as if my cousin had asked the question in good faith.
“I am not opposed to a little whipping now and again. Although that hardly seems relevant to you.”
I had to stifle a smirk, especially since my cousins did not seem to know how to respond to him. Neither Ciaran or Darragh bothered to try and hide their amusement as they took up posts near the wall with crossed arms.
“Names?” prompted Rian, moving along seamlessly, and both the dryads clamped their mouths shut instantly. Rian tsked at them. “Oh, come now! We have not even gotten to the difficult questions. Ciaran said you were so proud of your lineage. Are you ashamed of it now?”
“Of course not!” snarled Finn. He had always been the more reactive of the brothers.
Rian leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and interlacing his fingers as he observed them. I had the sense that he was cataloging everything about both males, and it would be to their absolute detriment.
His intense silence eventually got him what he wanted, and Arren lifted his head to speak.
“I am Arren Lann a’Chridhe of the Ruadhán, and this my brother Finn. We are blood relations of King Brogan, and you will answer to him for our imprisonment.”
“It’s kind of you to express concern for my well-being. But please allow me to worry about your cowardly king,” Rian responded with a smirk.
Once again, neither of the dryads seemed to know how to respond. They were so used to inciting fear by simply mentioning my father by name in Sumarra and were not accustomed to hearing that name disrespected.
“I was recently told that your people are not generally very fun, but it just might run in the family. So will you please settle this little quarrel I have had with Ornella?” Rian beseeched them. “If I invited you to smoke cneasú with me right now, would you agree to it?”
This time I could not help the bark of laughter at his ridiculous question that was clearly meant to ridicule the two males. My outburst turned both prisoners’ reddening faces in my direction.
“You mock us!” hissed Finn furiously, although I was unsure if he was more angry at Rian’s absurd questions or my audacity for laughing at them.
“Is that a no then?” Rian verified, making me laugh again even louder, and it felt good to laugh at them.
“Enough! Whatever do you mean to ascertain with this inane line of inquiry?” Arren demanded.
“It is just a little therapy. Laughter cures everything,” Rian explained lightly.
But as he stood up from his seat, there was suddenly a calculated violence in every move.
“Well. Almost everything,” amended the Autumn Prince with a cruel smirk, his voice becoming silkier and more ominous all at once.
“For all things laughter cannot cure, there is always vengeance.”
Both males flattened their ears and exposed their teeth, watching him with the same sense of threat that I could now feel tingling down my spine.
“Tell me quickly who else knows where Ornella is. How long before your cowardly king sends more goons to check on you?” Rian listed his demands with all pretense of foolishness now gone.
“Cooperate and this will all be over a little sooner. It is up to you how long we spend… getting to know one another.”
Predictably, both males clammed up again, which only made Rian smile broader.
“I rather hoped that would be how you felt,” Rian said as he began methodically rolling up the long sleeves of his dark blue tunic.
He exposed muscled forearms, which I was surprised to see were covered in tattoos.
The intricate images were not the familial sigils and whorls Sage had on his chest and shoulders, but a much more ornamental mural.
I saw the likeness of a vargr among the thorns and honeysuckle that wrapped around his arm.
The flowers caught my eye because I knew he must have gotten them for Aodhan.
Others had often told me that I smelled of honeysuckle, and I wondered if my brother had as well.
“So,” drawled Rian, his eyes still down on his sleeves, “which of you would like to go first?”
Of course, neither of them volunteered, but I could see them glancing at one another as if they both hoped the other might offer.
“I will flip a coin,” Rian offered, digging a hand into his pants pocket to produce a gold coin from Mionlach, which he showed them. “Grain for Arren. Fish for Finn.”
He flipped the coin into the air without another word, catching it and slapping it down on his bare forearm.
“Grain,” he declared, raising his head to give Arren a wink that made my cousin shrink.
“I refuse to be—” Arren began to speak.
But Rian was no longer listening. He stepped through the ward as if it were not there, advancing with predatory intention toward the dryads.
Fighting him did not even seem to occur to either of them as they scrambled to get out of his path.
Before either of them could do anything more than cry out in fear, Rian had seized Arren by one of his antlers and dragged the other male out of the ward.