Page 70 of Ashes of Betrayal

The Ravens and their allies were already inside the camp.

Shouting, followed by terrified screams, cut through the damp air, and Bree’s stomach clenched.

Lara and Mirren were trapped in there. She had to get to them.

Stop here, she instructed Tivesheh. The stag skidded to a halt just yards before the wagons, and an instant later, Bree leaped nimbly off his back, drawing her blades as she went.

She sprinted toward the perimeter and had almost reached the nearest wagon, when she heard Cailean pull up behind her, and the thud of his boots hitting the ground. Feannag had made a valiant effort to keep pace with Tivesheh yet had eventually fallen behind.

Climbing the wagon with ease, Bree scaled the top and dropped onto the ground inside the encampment.

Her nostrils flared at the reek of iron in here. The Marav warriors defending this camp were heavily armed. She resisted the stench and tried to ignore her twitching muscles. She’d wadethrough a forest of iron to get to her friends. She’d lied to Lara and Mirren—deceived them as she had Cailean—but she’d make it up to her friends now.

She’d prove to them that they could count on her.

Cailean landed next to her then. He too had scaled the wagon easily, moving with a fluidity she’d come to recognize in him. The tattoos on his neck and arms glowed silver now, the smell of pine and ash catching in her throat.

Skaal leaped down next to Cailean, her hackles raised.

They’d jumped into the thick of things, for a few yards away, Marav warriors, clad in boiled leather armor and wearing domed iron helmets, were facing off against a cluster of powries.

Bree skirted around the skirmish, noting that the warriors were holding their own. She wouldn’t interfere. Instead, she and Cailean needed to get to Lara and the queen—before The Ravens found them.

Side-by-side, they wove through the press of tents, and in the meantime, the screams grew louder.

Bree’s breathing quickened.

Shit.She hoped she wasn’t too late.

Cailean scooped up a sword from a fallen Marav warrior and helped himself to the man’s fighting dagger as well.

Bree didn’t like having iron nearby, but he needed those blades.

They were getting closer to the heart of the camp now, where the bodies of the men and women who’d tried to fight off the Shee and powries sprawled, their blood seeping into the peaty ground.

Summoning his earth magic, he stalked forward, cutting his way through the swarm of powries descending upon him. They rushed at him and Bree fearlessly though, steel knives flashing.

Cailean met them with a snarl. These murderous imps wouldn’t stop him from getting to the queen and her daughter. All those years ago, he’d sworn fealty to the High King, but today, he’d show where his loyalty truly lay. To Queen Teva and Princess Lara: two women who’d been dragged into this war by a man who cared about nothing but his hatred for the Shee.

He was almost through the fray when a piercing scream drew his attention. He whirled right to see a lean, black-clad figure advancing on a woman he’d bailed up against the side of a tent. Three youths lay around the woman, all bleeding and clutching their wounds. However, their mother defended them still, gripping a fighting dagger.

Cailean’s heart bucked.

Enya. Her sons had tried to protect her and failed—and now she stood alone.

The Raven went in for the kill then, the slender blade he wielded flashing bright in the sunlight.

But suddenly, Cailean was there, his iron blade blocking the lethal swing. The Shee’s yellow eyes snapped wide, for Cailean’s speed had taken him by surprise. Not waiting for the Raven to rally, he kicked him hard in the knee, sending him reeling. An instant later, the Shee was on his back with an iron blade driving through his throat.

Yanking his sword free, Cailean whirled to face his sister.

Enya, pale and trembling, stared back at him.

“Cailean!” Bree shouted from up ahead. The ring of weapons colliding and Skaal’s snarls followed. His companions had moved on and needed his help. Nodding to his sister, he whirled away and plunged after his wife and the fae hound.

Together, the three of them cut their way forward, and a short while later, they emerged in the heart of the camp. Here, the Ravens had engaged the ring of Marav defending the royal pavilion—a large tent where a wolf banner hung from a pole.

However, when Cailean’s gaze settled upon the rip in the side of the tent, his breathing caught. The Hag’s curse. They’d already forced their way inside.

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