Page 66 of Ashes of Betrayal

A Shee warrior—a tall, rangy male with cold eyes and oaken hair—pushed forward, drawing the slender dagger at his side. “Time for this Marav butcher to taste steel,” he snarled.

“Get back!” Bree snapped, blocking him with her sword. “This prize isn’t for you, but for our queen.” She cast a warning look around her, even as she urged Feannag on once more.Keep moving, lad. “Mor will have the guts of any of you foolish enough to touch him.” Her lip curled then. “She has plans for this shitbag.”

Scowling, the warrior drew back.

The stallion plowed forward, and the crowd gave way.

Dawn was breaking, a blaze of gold that gilded Cannich. The fort was overrun now. The Shee had broken through the gates and bested the garrison. The fighting had moved to the broch itself, where the overking and his warriors and druids were making their last stand.

The clang of iron against steel and hoarse shouting echoed behind them, mingling with the sobbing of those who’d been captured by the Shee. Nearby, a woman started to keen, no doubt weeping over the death of a loved one.

Jaw clenched, Bree rode on.

She’d betrayed her people before, but not like this. The old Bree would have answered her queen’s call, would have helped her take Cannich—without hesitation, or pity for those who lived here.

But she’d changed.

She followed the Raven Queen no longer. Instead, the man she towed behind her had her loyalty. She didn’t care about this war. Let the Shee and Marav kill each other; she wanted no part in it. All she wanted was to get her and Cailean out of Cannichalive—then they could start afresh and put all of this behind them.

As they crossed to the gates, which now hung off their hinges, walking over the bodies of those who’d fallen, she glanced over her shoulder at Cailean.

Hands bound before him, the rope tied around his neck, her husband wore a fierce look. Meeting her eye, he snarled at her—and in response she gave another, hard, jerk of the rope, nearly bringing him to his knees.

There were many eyes still upon them; she had to make this convincing. She bared her teeth at him then. “Keep moving, scum!”

“Vicious Shee bitch.” He spat on the ground.

“Dog-humping Marav.” Bree hauled on the rope once more and was rewarded by a choking sound.

“Fuck,” he wheezed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Not at all,” she muttered.

Moments later, Feannag passed between the gates, and they began the descent down the road that wound its way to the bottom of the rock. However, a steady stream of foot soldiers climbed to the fort, to assist those already inside. The way was narrow, and those traveling up had to pull into passing places to let them by.

“Keep back!” Bree shouted once more, waving her sword before her. “I’ve caught the High King’s chief-enforcer … and I’m bringing him to our queen.”

And they heeded her, even if Bree’s throat was raw by the time she reached the lower ward at the base of the rock. It was a mess down here. Her people had razed the camp, leaving it a smoking ruin. The ramparts were smoke-blackened. Bodies littered the ground amongst tattered Cannich banners, many of them bristling with raven feather-fletched arrows.

Angling Feannag through the gap that had once been the gates into the lower ward, Bree’s heart started to hammer against her ribs.

This was where things got dicey—the part of Cailean’s plan she’d balked at the most. Somehow, amongst the excitement and chaos of a successful siege, she had to slip away.

Sheathing her sword, she stopped announcing her presence now. Instead, she rode south, through the swirling press of Shee astride stags and elks. Amongst them, she spied trow and powries perched upon the backs of rams and mountain goats—blades of Sheehallion steel clutched in their clawed hands. To her shock, there were also tattooed warriors, their bare limbs smeared with woad, upon sure-footed garrons.

Iron, she’d never thought she’d see the day Marav sided with fae against a common enemy. She knew that the hill-tribe warriors hated Talorc mac Brude that much, but what had Mor promised them?

And amongst the army stalked huge fae hounds, their hackles raised, golden gazes hungry.

Bree’s breathing grew shallow. She’d thought the Shee army large before—but with Mor’s new allies, it was vast. Her blood chilled then as realization dawned. This was a force meant for more than taking one fort. It was one designed to conquer.

Just a short while earlier, she’d told herself that this conflict between Shee and Marav didn’t matter to her, yet now she wasn’t so sure. If Mor was planning something huge, there wouldn’t be a soul, on either side of the veil, who wouldn’t be touched by it.

Bree’s stomach twisted. And if that happened, it wouldn’t matter how far or fast she and Cailean ran, this war would affect them.

Keep moving, Feannag.The stallion had slowed his stride, snorting nervously as a trow seated upon a large black ram with curling horns leered at him.Don’t let them cow you.

“Where are you heading with him?”

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