Page 32 of The Crown of Moonlight
Our eyes meet, and there’s so much I haven’t told her.So many warnings I haven’t given her.
She turns back to her mother.“I’d better go.I still have stalls to muck, among other things.”
“Must you rush off again?”her mother asks.“You’ve only just arrived.”
“Yes, but you and Rowan have catching up to do.”Flora steps towards the door, then freezes as something outside the window catches her attention.I move to stand beside her, close enough to feel the way every fibre in her slender body stiffens with tension.Mine mirrors hers at the sight of soldiers marching along the road that cuts through the glen.
“Twelve men walking, and only two riders,” she whispers.“Wouldn’t there be more if the Butcher were with them?”
“What’s that, Flora?”her mother asks.
“Nothing, darling.I’m reminding myself of everything I need to do,” Flora replies.
Almost unconsciously, her hand reaches for mine.I close my fingers around it.I’d love nothing more than to hide her somewhere safe, but she’s not the sort of woman to run from danger.And I am the furthest thing from safety.
“Greys.”I mouth the words.
Her face pale, Flora nods.Then she crosses back to her mother and crouches to take both her hands into her own.“I need you to promise me something, Mother.Will you promise not to leave the solar until I come back to get you?There are soldiers coming—”
“Your father?”Flora’s mother springs to her feet.“Oh, and your brothers.It must be.How wonderful!We should all go down to meet them.”
Flora’s lip trembles, and I feel her heart crack open in her chest almost as though it’s my own heart breaking.She sends me a pleading look.
I can understand why she couldn’t send her mother away.The woman’s too volatile and unpredictable.As dangerous as she would have been with the other women and children, she’s doubly dangerous here.
Flora’s plan is both shrewd and bold, but it can all spin out of control unless I can keep her mother safely contained.
Chapter 15
Grey Death
Chyr
T
he smoke-tinged clouds of early morning broke into a clammy rain that was over almost as quickly as it started.Now the sun is emerging as the soldiers march ever closer.Raging at my uselessness—and trapped by this absurd dress—I can only stand at the window in the solar while Flora waits below to meet them.
There are fourteen: a dozen foot soldiers wearing Vheara’s uniforms of red and black, escorted by two Greys mounted on well-bred horses.The Greys’ red cloaks billow behind them, and light gleams on swords undoubtedly wrought of celestial steel.
The Butcher isn’t with them.That’s a reprieve, and possibly lifesaving.
Oblivious to the stakes, Flora’s mother sits embroidering on the bench behind me.It cost valuable time to convince her that the soldiers coming had nothing to do with Flora’s father or brothers, but now the woman drones on happily about parties she attended in Caelsolas during Fionn’s reign as though nothing at all had happened.
I try to remember to nod at her occasionally as if I’m listening to her with rapt attention.That’s difficult when I need to watch what’s happening beyond the windows.
The soldiers halt where the military road intersects the track that runs between the keep and the steward’s house and continues towards the mill and the cottages farther up the glen.The two Greys confer together.Then the female takes six of the uniformed men and marches them north towards Padraig’s house and the mill.The other Grey turns the remaining soldiers towards the keep.
Flora hopes to remind the Greys that the Dunhaelic banner didn’t fly at Culodur, and that—her younger brothers aside—the family has been loyal to the queen.She hopes to convince them that she is loyal.
But the fact that the Greys have split up means Flora has little chance of changing the outcome.No matter what happens at the keep, the rest of Dunhaelic is lost already.
If they stay to the usual pattern, the group led by the female Grey will search the outbuildings for people.Finding none, she’ll have the soldiers loot the dwellings and slaughter the sheep and cattle.Then they’ll burn the structures, carcasses, and fields.
If Flora hadn’t already gotten her people to safety, the Grey would bring them back to the keep to torture and use as leverage.I’m worried about what will happen when the Greys discover the buildings are empty and most of the livestock is gone.
Vheara’s Greys don’t use torture to achieve a goal.They use it to fuel their powers.The last embers of their Siorai magic were either reduced in the Gloaming or consumed by Vheara before she turned them, and the corrupted magic they have now relies on suffering.They feed on agony.On terror.On rage.There seems to be no limit to their appetite, and with fewer people available, that simply means they’ll draw the torture out as long as possible.
That’s the one faint thread of hope to which I cling.
