Page 90 of Ashes of Betrayal

Reaching up, Cailean brushed a lock of hair that had come free of its braid off her cheek. “I still don’t like it,” he muttered. His breath steamed before him in a cloud. “I don’t want you going anywhere near the Raven Queen.”

“It’s just two days,” she reminded him. “Ride to The Ring of Caith and wait for me.”

A nerve flickered in his cheek. “And what will I do, if you don’t walk through the stones at Mid-Winter’s dawn?”

“I will,” she replied firmly.

His blue eyes had turned stormy now, and she could tell he wanted to argue with her. But there was no time.

“I’ll see you soon,” she whispered, leaning in and brushing her lips over his.

Cailean’s arms went around her, and he hauled Bree against him for a passionate kiss. He bent her over his arm, his mouth mating with hers, and when they pulled away from each other, they were both out of breath.

“Ride swiftly, Bree.” His expression turned fierce as he stepped back, taking the warmth of his body with him. “And don’t you dare let them catch you.”

A short while later, Bree walked through the barrow, Tivesheh’s hooves thudding in the darkness at her back. It was winter, and the wights in here slumbered deeply. She passed through the veil without hearing a whisper from them.

Even so, misgiving feathered through her. Aye, she was confident she could reach The Ring of Caith and pass back through the veil without drawing Mor’s eye. But if she didn’t reappear at dawn of the winter solstice, her husband might do something reckless.

Something that would cost him his life.

He hadn’t said he’d go looking for her if she didn’t arrive at the appointed time. But the glint she’d seen in his eye before she’d turned and walked into the barrow warned her that he would.

And if he walked through the stones, he’d die.

Stepping into the warmth of a Sheehallion morning, she sucked the scent of sweet grass and wildflowers into her lungs. A faint longing tugged at her then, for her past life, before she recalled how she’d spent most of her time here.

Hunting and killing for the Raven Queen.

No, the assassin was dead. Instead, she protected the High Queen of Albia. She was softer these days, more given to laughter—and she was no longer alone in the world.

She had people who cared about her, and soon, she’d return to them.

But for now, she had to focus on getting to The Ring of Caith without anyone spotting her. If they ran swiftly through the day, they’d reach the stone circle with time to spare before sunrise on the solstice.

Leaping up onto Tivesheh’s back, she leaned forward and stroked his neck.The next two days will be grueling,she warned him.Are you ready to run hard?

Always.The stag tossed his head.I will go as fast and as far as you ask me, Bree.

Her chest constricted. This would be their last ride together. When she went through the stones this time, she wouldn’t be coming back. She wasn’t looking forward to saying goodbye to Tiv; they’d been through so much together. But just like the Shee female she currently was, her white stag didn’t belong in Albia.

Tivesheh sprang into a bounding run, sprinting over rolling meadows as the last rays of the rising sun turned the sky the color of salmon.

Things started to go wrong later that day.

They’d paused to rest for a short while on the banks of a gently flowing burn, and Bree was helping herself to handfuls of sweet raspberries from bushes nearby, when Tiv snorted.

Glancing up, she turned, her gaze traveling north to where a grassy ridge rose against the cerulean sky. A row of figures riding stags was silhouetted there. Even at a distance, she marked the weapons that bristled on their backs, the quivers of arrows. Warriors. She wasn’t sure where they were heading. However, she wasn’t inclined to find out.

“Right,” she muttered, crossing to her stag and vaulting onto his back. “Time to go.”

She’d been planning to ride in that direction, but, instead, they’d be taking a detour, which would unfortunately slow them down.

And then, a short while later, as Tivesheh sprinted through a hazelwood, Bree spied a large raven sitting upon a branch.

It watched, unblinking, as they approached, and a chill slithered down her spine.

Eagal. Mor’s messenger.

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