Page 86 of The Crown of Moonlight
The fire crackles, and the sugared-almond scent of burning rowan fades too fast, leaving only bitterness.
Chyr shifts his feet, his eyes heavy-lidded.My feet want to go to him, my fingers want to slide between his and squeeze them in reassurance.I clasp my hands in front of me.
“Tuirse made us laugh without ever making any of us the butt of the joke,” Chyr says.“His kindness had no limit.Tuirse was the heart of us, the buffer between strong personalities.I can’t count the nights that he sat beside me, reassuring me that however bad things seemed, he always had my back.”
“May Tuirse be long remembered,” Daire, Lorcan, and Ronan say, as we all cast our offerings into the flames.
Their Ever traditions are not mine, so I say nothing.But Chyr’s eyes bore into mine.
“They died as warriors.”It’s the same tribute I said at their grave, but after hearing Chyr’s story, I believe it.
They fought death and Vheara’s poison.They fought for each other and for Chyr.
Hot tears slide down my cheeks and clog my throat.I watch the rowan burn, thinking of my mother, my father and brothers, and all the goodbyes I’ve had to say—the goodbyes too many of us have had to choke out as we laid our loved ones in the ground.
Vheara is far from finished.There will be more.
The only way I can honour the people who are gone is by fighting with everything I have to get back to those who remain.
Back to Dunhaelic.
Ronan clears his throat.“I saw a group of Vheara’s soldiers pass on the drover’s track along the lake, riding fast.Several Greys were with them.Showed no interest in looking for tracks, but that’ll change when they find the bodies at the camp.”
“You covered our steps,” Lorcan says, “and even if they have a Grey with magic-sense, Flora’s the only one who’s used any since we left the camp.That would only lead them as far as the bog.We’ll be long gone by the time they search this far.”
“Unless they can sense her crown,” Daire says glumly.
Chyr catches his eye and shakes his head.“We’ll be all right here today, and the rest we’ll worry about tonight.”
I swallow a sick feeling that he’s tempting fate with those words.In the aftermath of the Hunt, I’ve almost forgotten that the hunters are being hunted.
“We’ll have to go by the camp again,” I say.
Lorcan scoffs at me.“We’d be idiots to try.”
“Then we’ll have to be idiots, unless you have magic that lets you fly.There’s no safer route for us to take.”I smile at him, enjoying the flare of his nostrils and the flush of red rage that spills into his cheeks.
Lorcan is the hardest to read of all the Riders.He’s silk and charm and gleaming teeth on the surface, but I suspect the temper he showed with Chyr earlier is only the second of many skins he wears, each more cruel than the last.
“Can you explain it to them slowly, Flora?”Chyr pulls a knife from his belt and picks up the brace of hares Ronan brought back for dinner.“Use small words as if they’re children.I’m going to take these outside to clean so we can eat.”
He leaves me alone with the others, and I know it’s deliberate, although I’m not sure what he thinks it will accomplish.To be honest, I’m too tired to care.
“The Butcher is staying at Gleannadail House,” I explain to them, “and Alasdair Domhnall has been taken to Dun Uilleum in chains.Vheara’s troops and Cymbeul militia are demanding quarters in homes across Ehrugael, but we’ve also seen dozens of watchfires burning, which suggests there are camps between settlements.”
Frowning, Ronan pushes his russet hair off his forehead.“Why would the Butcher come here?There are still patrols searching all through the north and the Highlands.And with the losses they took at Culodur, the clans in Ehrugael would be easy enough to break without him.”
I try to ignore the fact that those clans are mostly my people, and remind myself that the Riders do not know.Logically, they could assume I’m a Domhnall, but then again, I’m human.Evers don’t concern themselves with who we are or what we need.
“Is it possible he knows you’re here?”I ask.“The queen could have been sent to make sure you don’t reach Muilean.”
Daire and Lorcan exchange a look that I can’t read.
“True,” Lorcan says, “and you could be leading us straight into a trap, taking us past that camp.Have you thought of that?If the Butcher knows we’re here, he could be deliberately pushing us to take this route so that he can try to pick us off.”
I release a sigh.“He could, but whether that camp was part of a trap or simply the work of a prudent commander doesn’t change our situation.There’s no track along the western shore of Loch Seil, and the hills come down right to the water there.We’d lose too much time and miss Beltane Eve by at least a couple of days.Beyond the hills, the terrain is even worse: either too open or too hard to pass through quickly.It’s unfortunate that we’ve given ourselves away by murdering the sentries, but we’ll have to go around any new patrols.”
“It’s not murder when they’re enemies,” Ronan says, tilting his head to study me.
