Page 98 of The Crown of Moonlight
The stink of smoke grows stronger as we ride south.We swim the loch and find a narrow burn that flows into a deep wood of willows and birches on the other side of Loch Seil.We splash through water stained as dark as tea, the horses slipping on mossy stones and tree roots, but walking the horses in the burn eliminates our tracks.
I can sense soldiers now, many of them, along with the Greys whose presence makes my magic crawl whenever my senses brush across them.
Chyr sends me small smiles as if to remind me not to take it to heart.Ronan and Fergal grin at me a few times, too, and I wish I had the energy to pretend that I’m fine.
I’m not.
My hands won’t stop shaking, and as much as I hate to admit it, Sean was right.It’s not only my magic that can fail—it’s me.I’m the one who doesn’t know how to control it or use it to help us.Ishouldhave made the bridge wider, and now any chance of getting to Muilean unchallenged is gone.
Deep in the woods, Chyr gestures to our left.“We should fan out here and see if we can find somewhere to get a few hours of sleep.”
“We’ll need more than a few hours.”Sean spurs his gelding up beside Chyr.“Or are you planning to let the witch drive us directly into the Butcher’s arms?”
“We might have made better progress if you’d spent less time arguing,” I retort.
Sean glares at me and opens his mouth to spew more venom, but Chyr sends him a hard look, and Sean reins his gelding back.
Lorcan may come in a close second, but Sean is the worst of the Riders.Even if I hadn’t read General Mora’s letter accusing Sean of betraying the king, I doubt I would trust him.I can’t quite see Lorcan as a traitor.Not to Chyr, at least.But Sean?There’s something between him and Chyr that pulls my eyes to Sean at every opportunity.
Ignoring Sean would be like trying to ignore an adder that’s coiled and full of venom.
“Chyr’s right,” I say.“There’s a storm coming, so any sort of cover from the elements would help.”
A couple of the Riders look to the sky, and I can feel their doubt.The stars are nearly gone, but it’s light enough now to see that the clouds are still thin and scattered.Ifeelthe storm, but that’s not something I want to say.Not in front of Sean and Lorcan.
Chyr scowls at Sean, and the big, blond snake drops back as the Riders leave the burn.The horses scramble up the gravel shelf and a steeper, bent grass-covered bank to where a deer trail leaves an opening in the vegetation.
The wet earth swallows sound.Dew clings to brush and low-hanging leaves, depositing cold drops into our hair and shoulders with every accidental brush.
I spot a potential shelter before we even separate to search.A fallen oak rests on its root plate and the bare branches of its crown, leaving a narrow tunnel underneath that could be draped in plaids to form a tent.Multi-stem clusters of hazel trunks form a living screen of stems and leaves behind it, with several more hazel clusters along the front.
Reining Eira in, I signal for everyone to stop.“That’s as good as anything we can find,” I say, gesturing towards it.
Chyr scans the area, then gestures for everyone to dismount.Rua, who has been draped like a scarf across Ronan’s shoulders, raises her head, looks around, and launches herself to the ground.Feet silent on the moss and rotting leaves, she vanishes into the undergrowth.Shade and Shadow glance at me, tilting their heads as though asking for permission.
“Go on,” I say.“Have fun.”
They take off after Rua at a sprint.
Cathal, who’s scarcely said two sentences since he and the others joined us, pauses to survey the area before swinging himself from the saddle.He’s as much a warrior as the others—strong-muscled and fierce-looking, with dark hair braided close at the top before it falls in a glossy curtain below his shoulders.His grey-blue eyes are a stark contrast against his deep brown skin, and the way they absorb everything around him seems more thoughtful than tactical.A row of glowing runes begins at each temple and follows a shaved line above his ears before disappearing beneath his hair at the back.
“We should at least try to look for something more suitable than this place,” Sean says to me, making no effort to get off his horse.“At the very least, it’s only prudent to scout the area.But if you and the woman are too tired, the rest of us can go alone.”
Nothing in Chyr’s expression overtly changes, but I know him well enough by now to catch the chill in his eyes that says he’s holding himself in check.“This is your last warning, Sean.No more digs.No more disrespect.”
“Or what?”Sean leans in.His massive forearm is braced across the pommel of his saddle.
Chyr lifts his hand, palm out, and a blast of air knocks Sean from the saddle.
Sean lands hard, and Chyr is on him before he can stand, driving a bruising punch to Sean’s throat.Sean falls back, gasping for breath, eyes wide.
Silence thickens like a mist.The burn chatters over stone, and the wind stirs the rushes and willow leaves.
Chyr straightens and looks down at Sean with terrifying calm.“I know this past year—especially the past two weeks—has reopened old wounds for you.And I’m sorry to see you in so much pain.But you need to set that aside.You’re too good a Rider—too good a man—to let what happened almost two millennia ago cloud your judgement.”
“You want me to ‘set it aside’?How thefuckdo I do that?Why would I want to?”Sean kicks to his feet in one fluid motion.
Chyr doesn’t give an inch.He presses a finger into Sean’s chest.“Why should youwant to?Because you have a job, Sean.You took oaths, and being a Rider is about justice—not revenge.Have you lost sight of the difference between enemies and friends?”
