Page 3 of Ashes of Betrayal

She couldn’t believe she’d never see him again. She’d never hear the low rumble of his voice, or see the glint in those woad-blue eyes when she vexed him. She’d never feel his hands on her skin. Her throat started to ache viciously, and she blinked, wrestling to maintain her self-control.

“The chief-enforcer was vile and abusive,” she continued, wishing her voice wasn’t a rasp. She also tried not to remember the strain in Cailean’s face, his shadowed gaze, as they’d said goodbye before The Ring of Caith. He hadn’t wanted her to go either, but he’d thought he was doing the right thing. “With the manners of a goat.”

Mor’s expression didn’t change. So far, Bree’s tale wasn’t hitting the mark.

Panic washed over her.Concentrate! You can do better than this. Clearing her throat, she pushed on. “His temper was explosive … and his favorite trick was to shove me up against the wall and shout in my face.”

An image rose unbidden, of Cailean’s body against her back as he pressed her up against the wall of their alcove. The husk of his voice in her ear. The hunger that clenched her belly as she sagged against him. She started to sweat then; she could feel it under her arms and trickling down her back under her tunic.

Meanwhile, Mor’s lip curled. “I expected you to be prepared to deal with the brute,” she replied coldly. “Not whine about it.”

Bree’s pulse took off once more. “I did … as best I could,” she assured her queen. “But locked in a weak body … and impersonating a sniveling Marav … meant I had to be careful. Subtle.”

That was an irony. Her brother would attest that there was nothing subtle about Bree. Mor had sent an assassin to do a spy’s work, and right from the first moment she’d locked stares with the man she’d wed, her days at Duncrag had been numbered.

A chill silence settled over the throne room. Meanwhile, Bree’s pulse thumped in her ears.

Mor’s gaze had narrowed, while Eagal’s beady eyes felt as if they were slicing right through her.

“He started using his fists on me,” Bree continued, shattering the brittle hush. Yet again though, her mind betrayed her. Images of that torrid night they’d shared, of how good his touch had felt, flooded over her. Clenching her jaw, she tried not to think about Cailean buried deep inside her.Iron smite me, this isn’t the time!“I weathered his violence for as long as I could,” she plowed on, desperate now. “But on the eve before he departed on his mission to the north, he cornered me … and so I fought back.”

Mor’s mouth thinned.

“I punched the bastard in the throat and slammed my knee into his balls,” she said, recalling how quickly he’d deflected her attempts to maim him on that fateful evening. Aye, she’d fought well as a Marav woman, but she was no match for the realm’s most powerful warrior-druid. “A servant interrupted us … or I don’t know what might have happened. However, before leaving Duncrag, mac Brochan warned me that he’d ‘deal with me’ upon his return.”

Her spine straightened then, her confidence returning. Aye, she could get through this—if she held her regret at bay. She only had to keep up the act for a short while longer. Once she was alone, she could let her shields down.

She could rail at herself for coming back here.

“I had to kill two guards to gain access to the dungeon so I could find Bryce … and after speaking to him, I ended his life too,” she went on. “After that, my cover was blown … so I left the fort while I was still able. The High King enjoys torture. He’d held Bryce in the dungeon for moons, slowly carving himup before he revealed our secrets. I couldn’t let the same thing happen to me.”

The Raven Queen didn’t answer immediately. Mor leaned back, her long slender fingers drumming upon the armrests. She then shared a veiled look with the two sharp-eyed females, clad in long silver robes, who stood to her right—Nell and Sage, Mor’s most trusted advisors.

Both females were frowning.

Mor shifted her attention back to Bree. “Being married to the chief-enforcer would have been a trial,” she said coolly. “But I sent my best to Duncrag for a reason. Now I have no ear in Talorc mac Brude’s household.”

Bree swallowed. “I gained much that was valuable from Byrce, did I not?”

It was foolish to speak thus to Mor, yet Bree could feel anger quickening, momentarily eclipsing her misery. She’d put her neck on the line for her queen. A little gratitude would have been nice.

Mor inclined her head. “Aye … we were ready for them at Sheathan.” The queen’s eyes, the color of a moonless night, glinted. “Thanks to your warning, weambushedthe enemy … slaughtering the entire warband.”

Bree’s heart dropped to her belly.

The entire warband …

“You killedallof them?” she whispered, struggling to keep her voice even.

“Aye … even the prince. I watched him fall too. He was brave enough, coming at my Ravens with an iron blade in each hand. But it wasn’t enough to save him.”

Bree’s pulse took off.

The urge to ask the queen about the chief-enforcer surged through her, yet she swallowed it. Instead, she exhaled slowly, trying to calm down.

Careful.

“When did the attack take place?” she asked, with exaggerated slowness, as if the answer mattered not.

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