Page 137 of A War of Three Kings

Finan leans in closer to me until I can smell the wine on his breath. “Maybe you don’t care about him as much as I thought, and we should kill him now. OPEN. YOUR. MOUTH.”

My shakes intensify and I let out a small sob as I stare at Diarmuid. He looks so young and terrified, his skin bleached ofall color, making his many freckles stand out. Too young to die or be brutalized.

I close my eyes hard, tears stinging their corners, and I open my mouth. Humiliation floods me, but there is little I wouldn’t do for my family.

The liquid burns as it goes down. Finan doesn’t release his chokehold on me until the bottle is drained, then he wipes a drop of the poison from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he whispers in my ear.

I feel dirty.

Vulnerable and helpless.

Worst of all, I have allowed myself to fall within the control of this insane man once again. I can see no way out, especially as an oily barrier forms around the well of magic within me, like the numbing of an essential limb.

I don’t get the chance to panic at the loss of the one thing that empowers me, because Finan pushes me out the door of the hut with his hands on my shoulders, and I behold the source of those screams beyond.

The sanctuary is in absolute chaos. Multiple cabins are on fire. Women run in different directions as soldiers in full armor chase after them and cut them down with longswords.Splatters of blood arc through the air. Druids on their knees try to block the swipe of blades with their bare hands. Some Mothers of Magic fight back with their power, but none were prepared for this, and we are greatly outnumbered.

One woman is being pulled by her long, blond hair by a soldier who laughs as her heels dig into the ground to fight for purchase. I shiver at the thought of her fate.

So many bodies are scattered across the ground, and I whimper as I am forced to step over them. Lifeless eyes, staring but unseeing, become burned into my mind, along with thesensation of stepping barefoot into the warm pools of their sticky blood.

In my mind, I scream and I scream and I scream.

I reach for Aldrin and push the vision of everything I see. Everything I feel. I tell him over and over that Finan has taken me. To come and find me. I don’t know if he will hear me cry for him, but I can hope. It is all I can hold on to as my magic slowly slips away.

The lack of the power I have known my entire life feels like I am suffocating. Like I cannot drag in a full breath, only shallow pants that surely won’t sustain me.

I focus on the back of Diarmuid’s head and the glimpses I get of his face, and try to slow down the whirlpool of my mind at the chaos around me. I block out the cries of women and grunts of men. The metallic taste of blood on my lips and the scent of ash and burning flesh.

Most of all, I watch the blade at my brother’s throat with trained focus. The moment it slips away, even for a heartbeat, I will make a move.

I am not completely helpless without magic.

Finan clutches the base of my skull and turns my head, forcing me to look at the carnage. “This is your fault,” he murmurs close behind me. “Their deaths are on you, Keira. I shouldn’t have had to go to these lengths to get you back. Not when you belong with me.”

“Tell yourself whatever you need to, Finan,” I spit at him. “You are a murderer. An abuser. A kidnapper. Ineverbelonged to you. We didn’t even commit to an engagement.” I thrust my elbow back sharply, connecting with his arm hard enough to make him swear and drop his hands from me. I wait for a blow to come from behind, but he seems to pause in his conviction for a moment.

The victory is short-lived when a crowd of guards surrounds us, and Finan grabs my wrist and drags me through the portal. My vision blurs from unshed tears as I leave the priestesses to their fate.

We step out into another sanctuary that is as still as a graveyard. There are bodies tossed everywhere, like discarded ragdolls. Their eyes stare and their limbs are thrown at odd angles. These women were innocent. They gave their all for this kingdom.

I can’t help the bile that rushes up my throat. I pull away from Finan’s weak grasp and fall to my knees, vomiting into a bush. From the corner of my eye, Jaxon whirls with the knife still at my brother’s throat, instinct telling him my fast motion was an attempt to flee.

I could break away from Finan. I could try to run, but all the hand-to-hand combat training I have had throughout my life can’t help me against this many guards. Besides, I can’t stop retching, emptying my stomach until there is nothing left.

Finan’s fingers dig into my shoulders as he tears me to my feet. “Get up. I know you have seen worse than this on a battlefield.”

He doesn’t understand, because he hasn’t been on a battlefield. This is different. So, so much worse.

I am led through the underworld that has become the sanctuary, the rushing of blood in my ears the only thing I can hear. It is not until we reach the edge of the gardens of tall, lush trees and carefully sculpted bushes that the sounds of a city waking up reach me. The clopping of hooves and boots on pavement. The low murmurs of voices and the scratch of metal on stone as the rollers on shopfronts are dragged open.

A royal carriage awaits just beyond the tall wall that surrounds the priestesses’ sanctuary in the capital city. It is a ridiculous-looking thing. So much of it is coated in gold—thespokes of the wheels, the axles, the frame of the cabin itself. The rest is in that deep purple I hate so much. The golden crown painted on the door turns my stomach.

A guard rushes to open the door for us, and Jaxon climbs in first with Diarmuid in tow. Another pair of armed guards enter before Finan pulls me in with him. I have lost the will to fight him. In this dark mood, he wouldn’t be above beating my kind, gentle brother within an inch of his life just to antagonize me.

Cold sweat drips down my back.

This cannot be my reality.

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