Page 191 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
“He has his moments.”
“Is it me, or is that lady your grandmother?”
Aislinn laughed, and quickly caught him up on what had been happening. His face paled when he heard Aeron’s ultimatum. “I’m not going back to him,” he said. “No matter what he says. No matter what he does. He can’t have these powers. I don’t care if it kills me—”
“Caer—”
“Promise me, Ais. Whatever we come up with, you won’t make me go back to him.”
“Cae—”
“Please.”
Aislinn took a deep breath, knowing how much this meant to him, and how much he needed to hear it. “I won’t make you go back,” she said, tears lining her eyes. “Even if it killsme.”
Caer exhaled. “Thank you.”
Aislinn couldn’t respond. If he died because of that promise—if she had to live with that for the rest of her life—she didn’t know how she was expected to continue. She hated him for that almost as much as she—
A horn sounded outside, followed by the sounds of fighting not far off.
“Ah,” said Hawthorn, as if the sounds of chaos were a pleasant lullaby to him, “that must be my wife.”
Cerridwen bolted out of the door.
“And my mother-in-law, racing to join the fray.”
Aislinn stood up. She glanced back at Caer. “Have you got the strength for a fight?”
He stood up, catching one of the halberds Minerva was tossing out. “Let’s find out.”
It was a faerie answer if there ever was one, but Aislinn didn’t press it. She could sense how much he wanted to follow. She knew how much she’d hate being left behind, how she’d drag herself through anything to be by his side.
She ran out into the street.
It was never easy to keep up with Aislinn, but the tightness in Caer’s chest made it even more impossible than usual. Whatever Hawthorn had done to him had helped, but he still felt like an iron hand was resting against his lungs.
He fought through it, racing after her, jabbing at anything that tried to stop them.
He could use his powers on the mortal assailants—a few of them had joined the fray—but he didn’t want to. Not if he had another choice.
Over a dozen guards and soldiers had surrounded Juliana in an alleyway. She was easy to spot in her green and gold armour, but even without it, he would have recognised her as Aislinn’s mother. There was a distinct resemblance between the two that extended even as far as the way they cut down their enemies.
Cerridwen’s swings were similar, too.
Three guards leapt out of the alleyway and charged towards her. Caer paused to kick one down, but she urged him forward.
“Get to Juliana!”
Hawthorn was already there. He stood calmly in the shadows, twirling thorns through the floor with a lazy flick of his fingers, capturing guards by twining the vines round their limbs and holding them in place while Juliana whirled around the space, dispatching them one by one.
“My beloved doombringer,” Hawthorn sighed, largely to himself. “Isn’t she magnificent?”
Aislinn ran by, knocking over a guard and ramming his face into the floor, vaulting up in time to take out another with a well-placed kick to the ribs.
Caer inhaled. “The women of your family are really something.”
Hawthorn slapped his back. “Aren’t they just? I’m so glad you agree.”
