Page 29 of Ashes of Betrayal

Cailean jerked, his eyes snapping wide. And when she met his gaze again, Bree glimpsed recognition—and ire—in their depths. Reaching up, he massaged his jaw. “Fuck,” he ground out. “That stung.”

Bree let out a relieved breath, the tension in her gut easing. She started shivering then, as the thrill of battle faded and she became aware once more of just how wet and cold she was. “Sorry,” she said, rising to her feet and holding out her hand. “But I had to do something to bring you back.”

Cailean hesitated a moment before allowing her to help him up.

“Some appreciation would be nice,” she muttered, releasing his hand and taking a step back from him. “After all, I just—”

“Thank you,” he cut her off sourly, his scowl deepening with each passing moment.

Bree’s brow furrowed in response. She hadn’t expected him to grovel at her feet for coming to his aid, but his attitude was starting to vex her. Shades, her teeth were beginning to chatter now. She wasn’t used to spending prolonged periods out in such foul weather.

She was about to tell him so when Cailean’s gaze lowered then to her right arm. “You’re hurt,” he observed tersely.

Bree glanced down to see that, indeed, a cut was visible. The rain-drenched sleeve of her tunic had torn, and the bracer on her lower arm glistened with blood. “Cursed iron,” she muttered, wincing. She’d been so focused on the fight and helping Cailean that she’d almost forgotten the wound. “It burns.”

Unfortunately, as quick as she was, Bree hadn’t been able to emerge from that skirmish unscathed. There had been too many of the bastards, and they’d all been skilled with their vicious iron blades.

“Will it need treating?” His tone was still rough, making it clear that his concern for her was grudging.

“Aye … later.” She looked around then. “We’re not safe out here, Cailean.”

As the dusk deepened, she felt Sheehallion magic in the air. The howling wind now brought a distinctive smell with it: the scent of rose mingled with the smell of mud and the iron stench of blood. It was risky forherto linger here as well. With war looming, Mor would start sending scouts out through the barrows.

Still gently massaging his jaw, Cailean nodded. He then gave a low whistle. A few moments later, his horse emerged from the trees.

Bree’s mouth quirked, and she let out a whistle of her own.

A great white stag followed the stallion onto the road. The mud squelched under their hooves, and both beasts lowered their heads and flattened their ears back in the face of the wind that swept down the highway.

She glanced Cailean’s way to find him eyeing her. “Show off.”

Bree’s smile widened as she crossed to her stag. “This is Tivesheh.”

“Ghost?”

“Aye … he knows how to disappear when it suits him.”

Bree vaulted lightly onto the stag’s back, waiting while Cailean sheathed his broadsword over his left shoulder. He trudged across to the stallion, stroking the horse’s neck to soothe it. The beast’s nostrils were flared, its eyes wild. “All is well, Feannag,” he murmured.

He then led the stallion over to where the pony was still attached to the broken cart. The poor garron was soaked and trembling. The beast gave a nervous snort as Cailean unshackled it. Removing the pony’s bridle, he then slapped it on the rump. Tossing its head, the heavyset pony trotted away, disappearing into the trees.

Cailean then mounted his stallion.

Sitting atop her stag, Bree surveyed the bodies littered across the muddy road. The falling rain stippled the mud and washed the woad off their skin.

“Who were these warriors?” she asked.

“Druthen most likely,” he answered. “They’re a reclusive tribe that dwells in this area of The Uplands.”

Bree pulled a face. “Well … they decided to come out of hiding this evening.”

“Aye, like the other Upland tribes, they have little respect for the authority of our High King or his overkings. They’ve become unruly and unpredictable, of late.” Cailean cast a narrowed gazeover the dead. “Although they just got more than they bargained for.”

Bree nodded, her gaze traveling to the tree line where the fae hound had bounded after the fleeing warriors. “What about Skaal?”

“She’ll find me,” Cailean replied, urging Feannag into a canter. Mud and water splashed up behind the horse’s large hooves.

An instant later, he was thundering along the highway, heading west. Irritation surged in Bree’s breast as she watched him go. “Me?” she muttered, rounding her shoulders as a particularly vicious gust of wind buffeted her. “How about ‘us’?”

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