Page 33 of Ashes of Betrayal

“My home … Harra … was attacked by slavers,” he said finally. “We were all taken … my parents, my elder sister … and me. They sold us to a man who led a traveling band of fighters. Eilig.” He ground out the man’s name like a curse. “My father then spent the next few years fighting in the arena, while the rest of us toiled in other ways. It was my chore to empty the turd buckets and scrub them clean … and run errands for him.”

The glint in Cailean’s eyes made Bree still. She could almost taste the hatred he bore this man.

“My mother died of the bloody flux during our second winter on the road.” He glanced away, his gaze unfocusing. “My father changed after that. He was Eilig’s best fighter, but he became reckless in the arena, and then … around six moons after Ma died … he fell.”

“How old were you?”

“It was my tenth summer.” Cailean picked up a stick and poked at the embers, sending a shower of sparks high into the night air. “Eilig started training me to be a fighter shortly after Da died. He was a harsh tutor, and his lessons often ended with him beating me senseless … but I learned quickly, and upon my thirteenth spring, he pushed me into the arena.”

Bree frowned. “That’s young.”

“Too young. I barely survived my first few fights, although I killed each opponent. Word spread of the boy warrior who could bring down a fighter twice his size.” He halted then, his features tightening. “About that time, Eilig raped my sister.”

Bree stilled as she realized where this tale was heading.

“Enya was just two years older than me,” Cailean continued, “but I’d noticed the fight master watching her as she changed from a lass to a woman.” Iron crept into his voice then. “When I realized what he was doing, I attacked him. It was an idiotic act, for despite my growing strength, he was still a much better fighter than me. He beat me so badly I didn’t wake up for days …and when I did, he warned me that he’d slit my sister’s throat if I ever challenged him again.”

He broke off then, his gaze shadowing. “It nearly killed me to know he was mauling her every night … and that I was too weak to stop him.”

Skaal growled in Bree’s mind.Why do the worst ones always rise to power?

Turds float, of course, she replied. Cailean didn’t realize it, but the fae hound understood every word he uttered.

Skaal whined then and pushed herself against Cailean. He reached up once more and stroked her shaggy back.

“A few moons later, we were at Baldeen for the Mid-Summer Fire festivities, and the local overking had pitted some of his own slaves against Eilig’s,” Cailean continued, his gaze turning inward now. Bree didn’t dare interrupt him; she’d never heard her taciturn husband speak so lengthily. “Folk from miles around came to watch the fights. One of them was an enforcer from the Isle of Arryn. He watched me best one of the overking’s slaves … a seasoned fighter … and approached Eilig afterward.” His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “Apparently, he’d sensed ‘the gift’ in me.”

“And the fight master let you go?” Bree asked, incredulous.

“Aye, once the druid handed over a bag of gold coins.”

“Heboughtyou?”

“He paid for my freedom,” Cailean corrected her. “Enya pleaded for me to take her with me. I tried, but the enforcer refused to buy her as well.” He looked away, the firelight dancing across his face. “I promised Enya I’d return for her” —he paused then, swallowing— “that as soon as I was able, I’d be back to kill Eilig … and free her.”

A heavy silence settled over the campfire following this admission. Bree finally shattered it. “But you never did?”

“No.” He was staring into the flames again, lost in the past. “I meant to … but my new life upon the Isle of Arryn, and the training they put me through, was intense, all-consuming. I had to prove myself, again and again. I was never given any time off … and I didn’t start earning any coin until I entered the High King’s service.” His face was haggard in the glow of the flames. “By then, a decade had passed, and it was too late.”

“She might still be alive,” Bree pointed out softly.

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Aye, although it’s unlikely. I’m twenty years too late.” He paused then, his blue eyes glinting. “But Eilig still breathes … and I intend to make him bleed for what he did to us.”

Nodding, Bree wrapped her arms around her knees to ward off the cold and damp that had seeped into her bones despite the fire’s proximity.

“The High King would have given you leave over the years … you could have gone after your former master at any time,” she said after a lengthy pause. “Why now?”

Cailean’s mouth curved into a humorless smile, his eyes darkening. “I thought I’d done such a good job of locking away my past in an iron strongbox and throwing it into a deep, dark loch … but then I took a wife, and she dredged it up from the depths and tore the lid off.”

Bree stared back at him, her pulse quickening.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he muttered. “This is all your fault.”

She swallowed. “Maybe I did you a favor,” she whispered.

His jaw tightened. “I knew the day you arrived at Duncrag that you were trouble.” His mouth twisted then. “By the time I realized you were keeping secrets, it was already too late.”

Bree licked suddenly parched lips. “Too late?”

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