Page 134 of A War of Three Kings

“Oh, don’t tell me I have just recruited another woman to be angry with me.” My father laughs, batting away her hands.

A true smile curves her lips. “We will discuss it later. Brianna is thrilled.” When she turns to Caitlin, her expression becomes pinched, her features stretched tight with worry and lines forming on her brow. “Let us retire to your chambers, Caitlin. I have heard you have raged”—she shoots me a dark look for encouraging it—“but have you talked about and processed what has happened?”

Caitlin’s hands shake from the sheer amount of emotion she has held in all day, and I help her to her feet. I put an arm around her shoulders and lead her toward the door. Silent tears roll down her face before we reach her chambers, which I have already cleaned.

Our mother has that effect on Caitlin. She is the one person my sister will expose her vulnerabilities to without feeling like she is a burden, or that she should be strong and keep it together.

Another day passes before the ancient fae records are sorted and ready to be brought to each lord and countess as evidence. Our procession of Mothers of Magic and druids gather around, loading a wagon with the books and scrolls. I watch them work with Caitlin at my side.

“Gwyneth left. Her rooms are empty.” Her voice is flat. Emotionless. There are deep shadows beneath her eyes from lack of sleep and her auburn hair hangs limp and unbraided. “All I feel is intense relief, like an immense weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Is that bad? To feel only that after sharing five years of our lives together?”

“It means you made the right choice.” I hold her at arm’s length. “I’m sorry this war brought out these truths. That all of this happened because I left Finan for Aldrin. I’m sorry that you always fought for me so I could be with the man I love, but it has destroyed your relationship.” A single tear rolls down my face.

Caitlin laughs bitterly, the sound a shock. “Don’t you see, Keira? It has nothing to do with you or Aldrin or the fae. Gwyneth destroyed our relationship the first time we had a true trial. A relationship like that is doomed to fail.”

Diarmuid comes to Caitlin’s side and pats her back awkwardly, then helps her into the carriage, where our mother and grandmother wait. Aldrin pulls me into his arms and kisses me passionately, not caring who sees us. Well, we at least make sure we aren’t displaying ourselves in front of my grieving sister.

I thread my hands through his hair as he wraps his arms around my waist. All I know for the longest moments are the taste of his lips, his tongue moving against mine and his masculine scent of earthy vegetation.

“Are you sure I cannot convince you to stay?” he rumbles as he kisses a path along my neck.

“I have to be where I am most useful, coordinating the spread of these texts, and you have to stay where you are most useful, defending this pass.”

“Hmmm. I don’t have to like it.”

“No,” I say, pulling back. “You don’t. What could it take? A week? A month?”

He lets go of me reluctantly, and then all at once, the congregation is ready to move. I take my position at the front, beside Diarmuid, and lead the long procession of priestesses in white gowns and druids in brown robes out of the fields that contain our army. We are all on foot, so the journey to the portals at the sanctuary near Mossmount Pass will take the entire day.

I glance back at Fort Blackrock just before the road north passes around the foot of the mountain. Aldrin’s tall figure watches over me from the battlements. He raises a single hand in salute, and I raise mine back at him.It sucks the warmth out of my day to leave him behind.

The winding road takes us through those all-too-familiar rolling meadows, the long grass now yellow at the end of autumn, rather than the green of the last time I was here. I can’t help constantly scanning the horizon for those enemy warbands that pursued us across this landscape after Fort Blackrock fell and we made our mad dash to Windkeep Stronghold. Diarmuid, too, keeps glancing over his shoulder.

“Do you feel it too?” I ask.

“I can’t shake the horror of expecting an army to resolve out of these hills at any moment,” he murmurs.

“I know!” A shiver ripples through me. “I feel the same, even though every last enemy was hunted down months ago.”

We travel past the outskirts of the forest we hid in. Most of the trees are bare of leaves. Ice forms in my stomach, making ittwist painfully. If this war had started in autumn, we would not have had cover within those woods.

The sun sits heavily on the horizon when we reach the nearest priestesses’ sanctuary, at the base of Countess Lynna’s estate of Mossmount Pass. It is nestled in a tiny valley between the roots of two mountains, with a dark shadow already cast over the site.

Multiple tiny waterfalls trickle down the slate walls of the pocket, collecting in a freshwater lake and gurgling out in a shallow stream. The water is ice cold as we pass through it, seeping into my boots.

The sanctuary is quiet and peaceful.

Multiple priestesses work in vegetable patches, harvesting pumpkins, while smoke rises from the chimney of a large log building, accompanied by the scent of fresh bread. My stomach rumbles in anticipation. The temple sits in the heart of the space, a hybrid building of stone blocks, living trees and artful leadlight windows.

Our entire party fits in the entrance of the valley. My grandmother practically leaps out of the carriage, barking orders.After a few heartbeats, she grabs me by the elbow and leads me away. “We need the portals powered up and ready to deliver priestesses before full dark. We don’t have any time to lose.”

Sweat drips down my face as I exhaust myself opening portal after portal with a team of people, all pooling our raw power together. A production line forms at the wagon as I work, some unloading the books and scrolls while others package them into travel bags.

Seven groups of priestesses hand-selected by my grandmother collect their bundles and disappear through the active portals.I watch them solemnly as they travel through the coiling white mists.

“You feel you should be the one who risks herself to get the information out there, don’t you?” my mother says as she materializes at my side.

“I do.”

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