Page 19 of Ashes of Betrayal

Cailean clenched his jaw, watching as his tattoos faded. It had been a few moons since his last blood-letting, when he and his wife shared blood under the full moon outside Duncrag. If he continued to draw upon his magic, he’d be disadvantaged in a fight against Eilig when he found him.

An enforcer’s magic was both a blessing and a bane. Cailean was powerful indeed when his druidic magic was at its height, but vulnerable when it ebbed, for it was tied to his mortality. Without blood-letting, he’d eventually die.

Remembering the last blood-letting ritual, the sight of Fia’s—no,Bree’s—lovely face frosted by moonlight as they clasped hands, made his pulse quicken.

Anger surged then, blistering him.

The Gods damn her.

She’d worked him like a puppeteer, right until the end.

Over the past moons, he’d had too much time to think about that fateful night—and now he was certain that she’dknownhe’d spare her life, that he’d take her back to the stones and see her safely through. And while he lingered at The Ring of Caith, watching her go, her people had ambushed his camp back in The Hallow Woods.

She’d spared his life but doomed everyone else.

Don’t think about her.With effort, he pushed thoughts of his Shee imposter wife aside, turned, and headed toward the door of the ale-hall.

After drawing so much attention to himself, it was time to disappear.

A crowd still lingered around the fringes of the space, whispering together and casting him wary looks. Aye, everyone would have seen the tattoos on his neck and arms glow as he’d fought the mercenary. Enforcers weren’t a regular sight here, and the locals would be curious as well as wary. Another reason why he had to go.

On his way out, he noted a woman standing close to the wall. Wearing a blue cloak, she was tall and long-faced with straw-colored hair peeking out from under her hood. The woman’s eyes gleamed shrewdly as she tracked his path.

Cailean’s stride faltered. There was something oddly familiar about her—and yet he couldn’t remember where their paths might have met.

It didn’t matter though. He wasn’t interested in pausing to find out.

Cutting the woman a warning scowl, he ducked under the door’s low lintel and left the ale-hall behind him.

9: SHOW ME WHO YOU REALLY ARE

BREE’S HEART POUNDED as she watched Cailean mac Brochan leave.

Shades, the man had a glare sharper than an ax-blade.

He hadn’t recognized her though, for she still bore the guise she’d adopted since Duncrag. It served her well. Her face was plain enough for men to leave her be, and her tall and strong body didn’t give her a weak appearance either. She looked like a hardy farmer’s wife, a woman who could slap a man’s face hard enough to leave a bruise.

Only, Cailean had stared right at her, and she’d caught the flicker of confusion in his eyes before he scowled. He’d been distracted, or he’d have marked the glamor that shrouded her—all druids could.

As Bree’s pulse settled, elation tingled through her body. A heavy, relieved sigh then gusted out of her.

He looked rougher than the last time she’d seen him. His hair was longer, curling against his scalp, and stubble shadowed his jaw. His clothing was travel-stained. Cailean’s face had a slightly haggard look to it, indicating that he slept poorly these days.

Aye, the strain was showing, but that didn’t matter. She’d found him.

The Great Raven had favored her today, for after nearly a turn of the moon searching, it had dawned on her that the High King’s chief-enforcer might not want to be found. Over the past days, worry had started to gnaw at her. If Cailean had gone into hiding, it could have taken her years to discover his whereabouts.

Since leaving Duncrag, she’d traveled deep into the misty mountains and dark forests of The Uplands, stopping at each village, every fort, and asking if anyone had seen a tall, muscular man with short dark hair, blue eyes, and enforcer tattoos. She’d also mentioned that he might be traveling with a fae hound. She’d worked her way up to Harra—where he’d told her he was from—and then down again.

No one had seen him, or Skaal, until she reached Rothie.

She’d arrived at the fort the day before and discreetly asked if anyone matching Cailean’s description had been seen here. A woman selling live fowl at market had told her that a braw warrior had bought a pie from the stall next to hers a day earlier.

“A fine-looking man he was too,” the woman had added with a wink. “Is he yours?”

Hewas, Bree had thought as she’d shaken her head. Her stomach had pitched then, a blend of nerves and excitement sweeping through her.

And he would be again.

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