Page 68 of Ashes of Betrayal

“Go!” he growled in her ear.

Bree didn’t need to be told twice. Drawing her longsword once more, she angled Feannag right, plunging into the lines.

Getting through wasn’t easy, for the crowd was dense. But Bree angled the stallion toward the nearest edge of the press of warriors, which ended around twenty yards from the woods.

Steel swiped at her as some of the Shee warriors realized she was trying to flee. A few tried to stop her, but Feannag was already charging past, weaving his way through the ranks of elks, stags, rams, mountain goats, and fae hounds.

Eventually, Bree had to slash her way out. She felt Cailean’s body shift and twist behind her as he wielded the blades she’d given him. The sharp tang of pine and campfire filled her nostrils then. He’d summoned his earth magic. Usually, the smell would have made her pulse lurch, but she was too distracted to care.

A powrie sprang forward, steel blade slashing. It stabbed at Feannag, aiming for his chest.Jump!Bree touched the stallion’s mind just in time, and he leaped high, clearing the imp and the goat it sat upon.

And then they were through and galloping toward the tree line.

Crouched over Feannag’s neck, Bree cut her gaze left, back toward the South Road, where the High King’s army gathered speed now. A roar went up, crashing over the meadows.

And the Shee force thundered forward to meet their foe.

The collision of both sides—bodies, shields, and blades—rang in Bree’s ears as Feannag reached the trees.

“They’re following,” Cailean grunted.

“How many?”

“Around half a dozen. All Shee.”

A flash of white appeared to her left then. Tivesheh.

Bree’s heart lurched.Come closer!The stag obeyed, and an instant later, he was running alongside Feannag, shoulder-to-shoulder. Nimbly, Bree swung a leg over the stallion’s withers and flung herself onto her stag’s back. She and Cailean would be able to fight more easily on their own mounts.

They flew through the trees, Feannag and Tivesheh’s hooves churning up the bed of rotten fallen leaves. The land rose, climbing to a hill. And when they reached the top, the trees drew back.

“We can’t outrun them!” Bree shouted to Cailean.

“Then we’ll make our stand here.” Cailean pulled Feannag up, the tattoos that covered his arms flaring silver in the morning light. He gripped both the blades she’d given him, controlling his stallion with his thighs. Feannag swiveled on his powerful hind legs, rearing as the first of the Shee burst from the trees upon a brown stag.

The warrior had drawn his longsword, a feral light gleaming in his obsidian eyes. Five more Shee streamed onto the hilltop after him.

They met them in a clash of steel that rang through the trees.

However, shortly after they engaged their pursuers, Cailean leaped down from Feannag’s back, continuing the fight on foot. Bree followed moments later, and soon they fought back-to-back as the Shee formed a ring around them.

Sweat slid down Bree’s spine as she struck, parried, and feinted. Curse it, these six were good.

A vicious snarl announced Skaal’s arrival. Bree hadn’t seen the fae hound as they’d fled through the woods, but like Tiv, she’d been watching and waiting. All the same, Skaal’s attack surprised Bree. Fae hounds were protectors of Shee barrows. Her people had always had their loyalty. But not this hound.

And with Skaal’s help, they turned the tide against their attackers.

A short while later, the twitching bodies of the Shee who’d pursued them were scattered around the clearing.

Breathing hard, Bree and Cailean’s gazes fused. Her ears strained, trying to pick up the sound of anyone approaching from the north. But she caught nothing except for the roar of the unfolding battle that rolled over her. Even from this distance, it was overwhelming.

Straightening up, she looked through the gap between the trees where Cannich and the land beneath it were visible.

Black smoke billowed from within its high stone walls. The Uplands capital was aflame.

Cailean stepped up next to his wife and watched the battle unfold. The splintering of wooden shields, the scream of iron against steel—and of iron against iron too, for the hill-tribe warriors had turned on their own people—and the roars of fury and agony assaulted his ears.

It all blended into one terrible, violent song.

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