Page 94 of Bound By Deception

She raised her head, her gaze lifting to where a glorious pink and gold dawn streaked the sky. Her breathing hitched, and she swallowed the sob that clawed at her chest. Not even Sheehallion’s breathtaking beauty could lessen the pain.

Pushing herself up so that she sat on her haunches, Bree lifted her hands, inspecting them. They trembled, yet her fingers were longer and slenderer than earlier, her skin pale gold. She then glanced down at her body to find the tunic, which had been snug on her Marav body, was looser. The hem of her tunic now reached mid-calf instead of her ankles.

Bree lurched to her feet with a fluidity that only the Shee possessed.

It had worked. She’d returned to her true form.

She drew in a ragged breath then, waiting for the sorrow to unknot itself from deep inside her breast, for indifference and selfishness to resurface. She’d welcome them back like old friends—anything to ease this crushing agony in her chest.

But long moments passed, and a chill washed over her.

She didn’t feel any different.

Cailean stared after Bree, watching as the woman, cloaked in blue, disappeared between two of the stones.

His wife had just left him, and his chest ached cruelly, as if she’d slipped a blade between his ribs before going.

It had taken everything he had to let her go, yet he had.

She didn’t belong in Albia.

From this angle, at the foot of the hill beneath The Ring of Caith, he couldn’t see what happened once she strayed inside. The stone circles of this realm, which had been made by the Ancients, were sacred places for druids. Discovering that their enemies could actually pass between Sheehallion and Albia through the stones was a shock indeed.

Druids carried out rites at the Rings each solstice and equinox, but they never ventured inside the stone circles at such times. To do so was forbidden. Indeed, those who had risked it occasionally over the years had never been seen again.

Until now, they’d believed that the Shee feared the standing stones, as much as the Marav abhorred the ancient barrows. Butpassing through the stones came at a cost to the Shee, for it turned them into one of the hated, lesser, Marav.

Cailean continued to stare up at The Ring of Caith, even as his mouth thinned. How that must have galled Bree, a proud Shee female—the Raven Queen’s assassin. How she must have ground her teeth at playing a Maid of Albia.

No wonder she’d done such a poor job of acting submissive.

The sun had almost cleared the tops of the mountains to the east, the craggy spine of the Goatfells. Bree had left her passing until the last moment, but now it was done.

Shaking himself free of a wrenching sensation that felt a lot like grief—an emotion he hadn’t experienced in a long while—Cailean tore his gaze away from the stones.

“Enough,” he muttered. There was no point in lingering here and staring after her like a halfwit.

Bree was gone, and he had to get back to the camp or they’d think something had happened to him. And now, thanks to her warning, the Shee wouldn’t take them unawares.

He had time to act, for Sheathan wouldn’t take place until that evening, at dusk. When she’d told him, Cailean had considered retreating. However, he dismissed that idea now. The High King would be incensed if they didn’t face their enemy.

At least it’ll be a fair fight.Two enemies on an equal footing. Talorc mac Brude would get what he craved too, a battle that would start a war between their races.

Despite that impatience flickered to life inside him, Cailean’s step was heavy as he crossed to the garron. Murmuring an oath, he swung up onto its back.

He was still reeling from the truth—that he’d unsuspectingly shackled himself to a Shee assassin. Had Bree originally plannedto kill him, once she got the secrets her queen was so desperate for?

Cailean’s hands clenched around the reins as he urged the garron forward.

The king would annul his marriage, if he explained that his wife had run back to her family. However, Talorc mac Brude would never learn of Fia’s true identity.

Cailean was loyal to the High King, but he’d not betray Bree to him.

Fucking idiot. And he was. She’d betrayed him, yet he couldn’t bring himself to hate her. His feelings toward her were … complicated.

He set off north, back toward The Hallow Woods. Skaal ran alongside him, keeping up easily with the garron’s short stride. The impatience that had risen inside Cailean earlier bloomed bright now. He needed to return to the army, to alert them all. But first, he had to ride through The Hallow Woods again and weather the hissing, clawing Slew.

Dread curled up as he urged the pony down the path, under the branches of interlacing trees, with worn gravestones thrusting from the shadows—yet Cailean swiftly tamped it down. Bree had warned him that fear drew the restless dead. Indeed, on the way in the day before, they’d lost a handful of warriors to The Slew, their screams rending the air as the hungry spirits dragged them off their horses and into the undergrowth before devouring them.

---