Hidden Magic of Aldarae: Legacies, Chapter 5

Jem was awake when Erryn returned, sitting up and eating the field ration stew that Gareth must have prepared. His head was bandaged, and he seemed a bit pale with a few scattered cuts and bruises; beyond that, he looked perfectly healthy.

Erryn smiled, feeling a hint of the tension leave his shoulders, as he ducked to enter their makeshift shelter. “It’s good to see you up,” he told the manservant, kneeling by the sputtering fire. He reached into his pack and began pulling out the ingredients for Ciara’s potion, mashing them into a small travel bowl.

“Good to be up,” Jem replied quietly with an answering smile.

“He woke just an hour or so after you left,” Elsya said. Erryn looked up and saw that she was doing something with her Lady’s hair—plaiting it. He frowned slightly; they were stranded here with one companion still unconscious, and the woman wanted her hair done?

“I thought about going after you so you didn’t waste time on this…field tonic,” Gareth said, giving his brother a meaningful look. Erryn swallowed and continued blending his ingredients. “But when Ciara still didn’t wake up…”

A small hand on his elbow. He glanced up into wide, dark eyes. “Can you fix her?” Lisanna asked quietly.

Erryn felt his heart tug. This girl had no idea…

“I will try,” he promised, smiling.

“If you can heal her, we will forever be in your debt, Guardsman,” Lord Warranhall rumbled. He looked at Ciara regretfully. “She is a loyal member of this household. It would be a grievous shame to lose her.” Jorren and Byron nodded in agreement. Mina buried her face in her mother’s shoulder.

Erryn glanced to Andre and met the manservant’s eyes. He could tell they were thinking the same thing, something along the lines of, is her only value really as a servant? He remembered back to their first day on the journey, Ciara praising the Warranhalls for not being like other nobles. Perhaps she had lied about that as well. He dumped his mixture into a tin of water and placed it over the fire.

“She is also a dear friend,” Aiden said, meeting his father’s gaze. Erryn felt Gareth perk up slightly beside him and he glanced over to see his brother’s eyes shining with surprise and admiration. Adien looked to them, expression serious. “Her lose would be felt in our hearts, not just our household.”

Mina nodded, eyes teary.

Erryn swallowed a crooked smile. Maybe not a lie then… Not for all of them.

It only took a few minutes for the…potion…to begin to boil. Though the fire’s heat was nearly sweltering now that the rain had stopped, Erryn was grateful for the expediency. Spooning the concoction into a small cup, he rose and went to Ciara’s side.

“Gareth—” he started, but his brother was already there, lifting the girl up so Erryn could tilt the cup against her lips. A few drops dribbled into her mouth and Gareth ran two fingers down her throat, making her swallow. Nothing happened. Erryn poured more, hoping he’d followed her instructions correctly.

The cup was empty in a matter of minutes. Everyone seemed to hold their breath for a long moment. Still, nothing happened. Erryn felt his shoulders slump.

“It’ll probably take a few minutes, if it works at all,” Gareth said to the Warranhalls and their servants, beginning to lay Ciara back down. He smiled slightly. “It’s just a tonic after all, not some sort of elixir—"

Ciara’s eyes flew open, and her body jackknifed into the air with a gasp. Both Erryn and Gareth swore and leaped away from her in their surprise. For an instant, brown eyes were obscured by a web of gold. Then the glow faded, and the eyes were simply Ciara the servant girl’s again. She gasped again, gulping in air like each breath was her first. Or last.

Overcoming his shock, Gareth knelt at her side, helping her sit up and patting her back, murmuring to her. Erryn knelt more slowly, forcing himself to remove his hand from his dagger hilt. He must be alert, but not arouse suspicion. No need to cause a panic.

“Are you alright?” he asked slowly, watching Ciara’s gasps fade to shaking breaths as she blinked her way into full consciousness. He remembered the shock of returning to his body after that dream-vision she had pulled him into—he supposed it must be even greater for her, having been in that state for over a day.

Ciara met his eyes, and there were so many emotions and thoughts swimming in that gaze that he thought they might drown him. “Yes,” she rasped, then coughed slightly. She looked from him to Gareth and smiled. Dimples and all. “Thank you.”

“Cia!”

Before their mother could stop them, the Warranhall girls had launched themselves at their maid, crying and laughing and hugging. Ciara hugged them back, murmuring reassurances and waving the others off when they protested that the girls should let her rest. “I’m alright now, really,” she kept saying to the hovering Andre and Jem and the weeping Elsya, who promptly threw her arms around the other girl’s neck and cried into her shoulder.

“It is good to see you awake.” Erryn glanced at Jorren, a bit surprised. He hadn’t thought the eldest Warranhall child particularly cared about the girl’s condition, but there was honest relief on his face.

“Yeah,” Farran agreed, smiling, though he refrained from launching himself at the maid as his sisters had. Byron nodded emphatically, grinning.

Aiden seemed not to share his brothers’ reservations. Once Elsya had been pulled away by Andre, he knelt and wrapped his arms around the girls’ shoulders. “You gave us quite a scare, Cia,” he admonished lightly, but it was obviously he was as relieved as the others.

Ciara gave them all a sheepish smile. She looked around, then caught sight of Jem again and frowned. “What happened to your head?”

She was a very good actress, Erryn had to give her that. She sat and listened as the others explained to her all that had happened since she’d “fainted”, gasping in all the right places, eyes wide, as though she hadn’t been watching every little detail unfold from her astral-body.

“Well,” she said when they were done. She looked at Erryn. “Thank you for your tonic.” There was just a hint of mischievous laughter in her eyes, and he had to fight back a smile. Gods and demons, despite everything he really was glad she was awake.

Stop that, he admonished himself. Be on guard, don’t let her trick you again.

But in rejection of everything he’d been raised to believe, he was starting to think she’d been telling the truth.

Though he wasn’t entirely convinced just yet. “Alright, give her some air,” he said, gruffly but kindly, and shooed the others away from her. He knelt in front of her as they all backed away and said evenly, “I’m just going to check you over again, make sure you’re really okay.”

Ciara met his gaze coolly. “Alright.”

“Guess I’ll go see if I can scrounged up some rabbits or something for dinner then, since we’ll probably be here another night,” Gareth said, standing. He shot Erryn a questioning look and Erryn shrugged. They would have to talk later. Gareth nodded and slipped away.

“Another night on rock?” Lady Warranhall demanded. She fanned herself with one hand.

Before Erryn could say anything, Aiden said softly, “I know it’s not ideal, Mother, but we can’t risk anything strenuous on Ciara or Jem just yet. And it’s at least a day’s walk to the nearest town.”

The Warranhall household continued talking, but their voices faded into the background as Erryn began looking over Ciara “I’ll be watching you,” he murmured softly, their faces close enough that he knew they wouldn’t be overheard.

He half expected her answer to sound in his mind, but she spoke aloud, barely more than a whisper of a breath. “I know.”

Ciara did nothing witchy that night, at least not that he could tell. Nor the next morning when he, Gareth, and the Warranhalls’ servants began packing up what supplies they could to set out. They had only seven horses now, and ten humans. It was decided that Lady Warranhall would ride one and her girls another, with Ciara walking close beside them to ensure their safety. Byron and Farren took two more horses, the still woozy Jem and rather delicate Elsya another two, and Gareth the last, so he could ride ahead of the party and keep a lookout.

Erryn was a bit surprised that Lord Warranhall and his two eldest sons deferred the offer of a ride in favor of their Lady’s maid, but he didn’t think on it long. He took a position a bit behind Ciara and the girls’ horse near the back of their party, making sure to always have one eye on her and the other open for an outside danger.

I’m not going to grow another head you know.

He jumped, startled, and Ciara chuckled. He looked up to see her sending him a wicked smile over her shoulder and glowered. Aw, don’t pout. I promised, didn’t I? Her grin broadened and she turned forward again, apparently having made her point.

He gritted his teeth and trudged on as the sun rose overhead. She was acting like what had happened didn’t change anything, like they could go back to the easy banter and laughter of before. Was this all some big game to her?

But he remembered the fear and anger she had shown in that dream, and he knew it wasn’t. He continued watching her back, though now there was curiosity warring with his caution. Perhaps this was simply her way of dealing with the situation…

“Cia, tell us a story!” Lisanna demanded suddenly, jerking him from his thoughts.

Ciara laughed. “Alright. Which one?”

“A new one,” Mina suggested, eyes shining as she kept her arms firmly around her little sister’s waist, keeping her seated on the horse in front of her.

“Hmm…” Ciara mused. “A new one. Alright then.” She cleared her throat. “Long ago, there lived a young man who wished to be king…”

She told her story, weaving it through the air like threads of light. Despite his best intentions, Erryn found himself listening. It was an interesting tale, a young man who made a deal with a wicked faerie and needed the help of an old woman who lived in a willow tree to escape the fey’s clutches. He got his wish and became king by marrying the princess in the end, and the girls were immensely satisfied. A simple tale, one he thought he might have heard some version of as a child himself.

But the more he listened, the more he could hear the thoughts behind Ciara’s words. True, it was a faerie who was the villain of the story, but she made it clear that she was an outlier of her kind, that the other fey shunned her and her wickedness. And it was only with the help of a witch—for what else could Old Woman Willow be?—that the hero was able to defeat the faerie and gain his wish.

He wondered if all her stories were like that; like her version of the Lost Queen, subtly telling her young charges that perhaps magic was not as evil as they were taught to believe… He shook his head, refocusing on his guard duties. But still, the thought gnawed at the corners of his mind, born days ago and only growing with each new experience.

Was she right?

This idea turned over and over in his head as the day wore on, though he found less and less time to worry about it. The rainstorm had given way to blistering heat, and it seemed that each step he took added another stone to his boot. The younger Warranhalls began to complain around noon, and their whines only grew in intensity as the minutes ticked by. Erryn began to bite his lip to keep from shouting, made irritable by the heat and discomfort. Elsya was not so restrained, though her outbursts were contained to biting comments directed at the other servants. Poor Jem looked as though he might faint again, and Lord Waranhall didn’t look much better off, his sons giving him their shoulders for support.

Finally, with the sun beginning to set at their backs, they came in sight of a cluster of houses set in the hills the bordered the bay. With relief, the party found lodging at the village inn—of course, it was no trouble at all for such honorable nobility, the proprietor exclaimed when they apologized for their state and the number of their party. Because it was such a small village, and by extension a small inn, there were only four rooms free. Lord and Lady Warranhall took one, their sons took another, the girls and the maids the third, and Erryn, Gareth, Andre, and Jem had the last one.

After dinner—“simple fare” by Lady Warranhall’s standards, but it was food and they were famished, so it was gone in moments—and making sure all their charges were safely in their rooms, Erryn collapsed on the bed he and his brother were sharing, groaning as his muscles protested. “Wake me in a week or so,” he said, eyes sliding closed.

Gareth laughed, but his own exhaustion was clear. “We’ll go see if anyone has some horses for rent tomorrow. That should get us to the manor quicker, make the trek easier.”

Erryn grunted in agreement, then forced himself to sit up, looking around at the other three young men. “You alright?” he asked, nodding toward Jem.

He gave him a weary smile. “Fine, just tired,” he said. “I won’t mind when this journey’s over and I can have a bit of a lie-in though, let me tell you.”

They all laughed a bit and began preparing for bed. Erryn had just slipped out of his uniform tunic, leaving him in just a cotton undershirt, when Andre suddenly commented carelessly, “Huh. Is that Cia?”

And just like that Erryn’s senses were once again on high alert. In three steps he was at the manservant’s side, staring out the window that overlooked the inn’s courtyard. “Where?” he demanded, but before Andre could answer he caught sight of the girl tripping lightly across the cobblestones toward the stable. He gritted his teeth. “I’ll be right back,” he said, hoping he sounded casually, and slipped out of the room. There were a few whispers and questions for Gareth—what was that about, did he fancy the girl?—but he ignored them.

In a few minutes he was in the doorway to the stable, watching Ciara as she held a slice of apple out to one of the animals, a chestnut bay creature. “I didn’t think you knew I was out,” she said softly, not even turning to look at him.

He frowned. “I told you I’d be watching you.”

She sighed, stroking the horse’s neck. “You know, that sounds awfully sinister.” Now she glanced over at him and tried a small smile. When he didn’t respond, she sighed again and stepped away from the stall. “What do you want me to say, Erryn?” she asked quietly, looking at his face but not quite meeting his eyes.

He didn’t answer, just kept looking at her.

She frowned a bit. “Do you want an apology? Because I’m not sorry, Erryn. Not for what I am or what I’ve done to hide it. I was only doing what I had to in order to survive.” She bit her lip, then added haltingly, “But…I am sorry for some of the things I said…it was unfair of me.” She looked up at him, hopeful and cautious.

His heart twisted. He wanted so badly to just forgive her, to forget any of it had ever happened and go back to that easy companionship they’d cultivated so early in their journey. But he couldn’t. Not now.

But maybe someday. Despite her powers, her lies, maybe someday he could forgive. For now, he just continued to watch her.

After several long, awkward moments of silence, he said softly, “You seem to have interesting friends, Ciara.”

She blinked, taken aback, then frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He told her about the voice that had directed him to the yew tree, that told him if he saved her it would be forever in his debt. As he spoke, Ciara’s eyes slowly widened. When he’d finished, her hands were white knuckled fists at her side and her lips was bleeding from biting it so hard. He was a bit surprised. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, exactly, but it wasn’t the desperate hope and fear in those huge brown eyes.

“This voice,” she said, obviously making a great effort to keep her voice from shaking. “Can you describe it?’

He frowned. “Well…it was male, sort of, but also—not human. Not exactly. As though a storm had gained the ability to speak, and…and there was a sort of rattling sound, like falling rocks.”

Ciara slumped, letting out a sharp huff of air that was almost pained laughter. “I don’t believe it,” she muttered, clenching and unclenching her fists.

Erryn narrowed his eyes. “Who was it?” he demanded. “And no lies,” he added when she looked up to meet his eyes.

For a long moment she was silent. Then she let out a long breath and murmured, “I’m not sure.”

He wasn’t buying it. “But you have an idea,” he pressed, crossing his arms again.

“Yes,” she admitted quietly, refusing to look at him. “I think…it might have been my teacher.”

He blinked, then frowned. “Your teacher?” he repeated.

She nodded. “He…left. Years ago. I’ve been looking for him—” Her voice choked slightly and she looked away. Then she took a breath and faced him again, expression cool and controlled. “When I was younger, before I knew how to manage my powers, he—he found me. Helped me, taught me. He was my family.” She gave a small, tremulous smile. “He’s a good man. You don’t need to worry about him.”

Erryn snorted. “Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it,” he muttered. Although…the voice had helped him…

Anger flared in her eyes, but she quashed it quickly. “Right.” She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze evenly. “Well, then, Guardsman. I assume you do not trust me to walk alone to my room?” Without waiting for an answer, she strode out of the stable, head high.

He followed close behind, eyeing the stiff set to her back and shoulders and the way her fists were still clenched at her sides. Guilt pricked at his chest. Maybe he was being too harsh.

No, she was a witch...

But she was his friend. His friend who had lied to him.

This was too much. He made sure Ciara was safely ensconced in her own room before returning to his and collapsing onto the scratchy straw mattress next to Gareth—who grunted in annoyance—and slipping into blissfully dreamless sleep.

When the sun rose the next morning, he had made his decision. He couldn’t keep Ciara’s secret; it was too huge, too dangerous. But he would not allow her to be killed for crimes others of her kind had committed that she herself was innocent of.

Now, how to go about reconciling these two ideals…that would take some consideration. Consequently, he was more than a little distracted as the party prepared to set out again around noon. Gareth had rented some horses cheap; he and Erryn would return them on their way back to Varcia once the nobles were safely delivered.

The road from the coastal village to the Warranhalls’ seaside manor was winding and narrow, weaving between the edge of the cliffs that fell to the sea on their right and the patches of trees or solitary fishermen’s huts on their left. It would probably take them three days to complete their journey, and Erryn and Gareth had worked out good places to rest on the remainder of their route. They traveled in a simple formation with the Warranhalls in the center, their servants to the the front and the back of the family, Gareth in the lead and Erryn guarding the rear. The knowledge that an unknown sorcerer was after them was keeping the older brother on high alert, and he wished desperately that he knew how to warn the others without revealing Ciara’s secret. Not yet, at least.

But it seemed that his worries were unfounded. Two days passed with relative ease and quiet, and he began to relax. The easy relationship he’d had with Ciara would probably never return, but they were at least civil to each other, and the young woman still laughed and talked with Gareth when it was her turn to ride near the front of the caravan.

On the third morning, as they set out from yet another salt-and-fish scented inn, Ciara and Andre were decided to ride in the back, near him. He watched the young woman as often as he scanned their surroundings for potential threats.

Nearly three days since his grand decision, and still he had not acted on it. He’d tried, several times; he had decided he would tell Gareth first, and they could figure out how to handle the situation together—loathed though he was to admit it, his brother had always been the cleverer of the two of them, and he trusted his judgment in almost all matters. Excluding his choices in romantic partners.

But the words never seemed to form properly in his mouth, and he always abandoned his attempts with fumbled excuses halfway through.

So, when Ciara glanced back over her shoulder and caught sight of his deep frown of concentration, raising an eyebrow curiously, he jerked his head to his left, indicating that she should ride with him for a moment.

She frowned but came closer warily. “What is it?” she asked softly as her mount fell into step beside his.

“I have to tell Gareth,” he said bluntly, half of him reaching desperately to drag the words back into his mouth. “This is too big, Ciara. I’m sorry.”

She was silent, stiff-backed. He watched her from the corner of his eye, guilt and worry and faded anger warring for dominance in his chest. His right hand, hidden from her view, twitched toward the hilt of his blade. If she tried anything…

Ciara let out a long, slow breath, then nodded. “Alright. If you must.”

He gaped at her, completely surprised. She glanced over at him, and a small, tired smile graced her features. “I’m not a fool, Erryn. I knew this was coming the instant I realized you know what I am. I’d hoped…” her voice trailed off and she blinked. Then she set her shoulders and looked back into his eyes once more. “It doesn’t matter. Do as you like. But know that I will not go calmly to the gallows. I will fight.” She dug her heels into her horse’s sides and cantered back to her place in the formation.

Erryn sighed, watching her go. He didn’t want her to be hurt. He believed now, whole-heartedly, that Ciara would never use her powers for evil.

But he didn’t have a choice. It was his duty.

It was Father’s duty too, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. But he let her go.

He gritted his teeth. I am not my father, he reminded himself for the thousandth time. But while he usually said it with conviction, the idea that he could do more, now… Now he wondered if his darkest, most secret fear had come to pass. Perhaps he simply wasn’t his father because he couldn’t be. He could never be that great a man.

He put the thought from his mind, though it was still there, whispering, and reaffirmed his resolve. When the party stopped for another “picnic lunch,” as the Warranhall girls had dubbed their midday breaks for food, he marched toward Gareth with a purpose. Taking his brother’s arm, he said quietly, “We need to talk.”

The younger man—who had been eyeing the strange formation of rocks that the group had used for shade to rest—looked up at him not with surprise, but with expectation. “Alright,” he said easily. He nodded at the rocks. “Let’s go up there. Too far for the others to see us, but we can still keep watch.”

Erryn nodded in assent and began scrambling up the stones behind his brother. He glanced over his shoulder once and saw that both Aiden and Ciara were watching them, though he supposed for very different reasons. Doe brown eyes bored into him, and for a moment he swore she could see his soul.

He wondered what she would find there.

Then he shook his head and continued climbing, settling himself beside his brother. Gareth was perched atop the formation with his back to the sea, looking out over the Warranhalls and the sloping, pebbly land beyond. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked calmly, eyes never leaving the scene before him.

Erryn looked as well. It was strangely beautiful, for all the lack of greenery. “It’s about Ciara…” he began after a moment, then hesitated, unsure of how to continue.

“Are you going to court her?”

A strangled bark of laughter escaped him. “No. No, I’m not.” Not even if she hadn’t been a witch, he realized. Even before he knew of her powers, while he supposed he’d always thought her pretty, he’d just never been able to see her in that way.

Gareth shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t sure, so I thought I’d ask.” He shot him a sideways smile. “By the way, I’m impressed with you.”

Erryn frowned at him in confusion. “How so?” he asked cautiously.

His brother smirked. “For not having a fit about me spending so much time with Aiden.”

Erryn sighed, rolling his eyes, then grumbled, “I think at this point I know that my “having a fit” won’t actually do any good. I’ve decided to wait this one out.” With a little advice from Ciara, but he left that part out.

Now it was Gareth’s turn to give a scoffing laugh. “Thank you for your great faith in me, brother dear,” he muttered petulantly. Erryn smiled despite himself.

“Shut up,” he said, shoving him lightly. “Look, I’m trying to tell you something important.”

Gareth sobered, straightening up a bit and cocking his head at him. “Alright. What?”

Erryn paused. “It’s…well… See, I found out something about her, something…”

“Just spit it out!” Gareth demanded with a laugh that was half fond, half irritated.

Erryn opened his mouth to do just that, but suddenly Gareth’s eyes widened. Instantly Erryn knew why—he recognized that expression from months of training exercises. There was something behind him.

He only had time to twist slightly, to just glimpse the darkly clad figure as it loosed an arrow toward him. It would strike true, he didn’t have time, he tried to roll out of the way, but he knew he would be too late—

Something slammed into him from the side, sending him rolling down the sharp, rough stones, out of the arrow’s path. Jolted and bruised and rattled, he landed right in the middle of the Warranhalls’ picnic. Before the lady could so much as gasp, he was back on his feet, drawing his sword and launching himself back up the pile of rocks.

“Gareth!”

His brother stood atop the stones, wavering on his feet. And arrow protruded from his gut. He looked down at Erryn’s call, eyes wide and pained. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he fell.

“Gareth!” In moments he was at his brother’s side, kneeling beside him. Gareth looked up at him, a single scarlet streak gliding from the corner of his mouth.

Another arrow, but this one Erryn had time to react to. He twisted his wrist and the head glanced of his blade with a dull, metallic ringing. With a roar he leaped to his feet, facing the figure with the bow, crouched on the other side of their small hill of stone.

There were seven of them, all dressed head to toe in black, wearing masks of midnight blue to hide their features. Only one had a bow, the rest were armed with short swords or throwing knives. Assassins.

Gareth moved weakly beside him, and time slowed down. He looked at his brother, bleeding and in pain. Dying. All their lives he’d protected him, and now, when it most counted, he could do nothing. Nothing. Nothing—

I’ve got him. Ciara’s voice in his mind was sharp and commanding. Go, drive those bastards off. I’ll protect Gareth.

Hope suddenly sprang to life in his chest, and without a word he turned and charged toward the group of murderers, roaring a battle cry that was so primal it scared even him. The assassins hesitated. Perhaps their employer had not prepared them to expect this. But they shook off their paralysis quickly, launching themselves at him.

He killed the archer first, almost too easily, blade sliding through flesh like butter. But there were still six left, and only one of him, and he had to keep them from getting to the Warranhalls and his brother.

He spun as one came at him with a pair of thin, glinting daggers. He knocked the blades away and brought the hilt of his sword down on his attacker’s skull, killing or rendering unconscious, he wasn’t sure. Completing his turn, he saw that the Warranhalls and their servants had begun climbing the rocky formation, the lady for once heedless of her fine skirts. Jorren, Aiden, and their father waited at the base, the decorative blades they carried drawn and glinting. But they wouldn’t do much good, he knew that. It was down to him to protect them all. He slashed and stabbed like a mad thing, years of training instinct and muscle memory taking over.

They were skilled, as well trained as he, if not more so. And he was outnumbered five to one, his desperate attempts to keep the assassins from targeting the others pushing him further back toward the rocky formation, losing ground with every blow. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t beat them, not on his own. Maybe if he had Gareth fighting beside him—but his brother was bleeding out on the rocks behind him, and this was all he could do.

Another assassin fell under his blade. Four left. But he was bleeding, he wasn’t quite sure from where, but he could feel the dark liquid soaking his clothes, and these last four had learned caution. They danced in to slash at him, or threw daggers from a distance, then whirled away before his blade could reach them.

Then one of them broke away, darting toward the rocks, pulling their arm back to throw the knife. Erryn whirled to give chase, but the other three closed in on him, herding him away. He shouted a warning, hoping the lord and his pampered sons could do something, but knowing the chances were slim.

A voice boomed through the air around them, sharp and commanding, words shaped of wind and water. Inferno and shadow and scorching sun made into sound. For a terrifying moment he thought the enemy sorcerer had finally shown himself, or at least was making another magical attack.

Then he realized.

There was that sense of frozen time as his eyes dragged up, up, up to see Ciara standing atop the rocks, arms raised and fingers outstretched, eyes burning and golden as the sun above. Her lips moved, that ancient, primal voice pouring an endless stream of Old Tongue from her mouth.

Slowly, the black clad figures seemed to waver dreamily. Then, as though a massive hand had reached down from the sky and grabbed them by the scruffs of their necks, they lifted into the air. Erryn heard them cursing and shouting in fear, but he found it very hard to concentrate on that. Because he had just seen the shape rising groggily to his feet at Ciara’s side, looking confused and pale, but otherwise perfectly healthy.

Thank you, he thought wholeheartedly, watching Gareth realize what was going on, his brother’s eyes widening with shock. But before he or Erryn had any time to react, Ciara shouted something and threw her hands forward in a shoving motion.

The assassins screeched as they were tossed through the air, over the edge of the narrow road to tumble over rocks and down to the choppy waves below. As their cries faded away, Ciara dropped her arms and wobbled on unsteady legs.

Before she could collapse, Andre’s voice rang out in the sudden quiet, terrified and confused:

“Witch!”

Even from a dozen yards away, Erryn could see the fear and resignation on Ciara’s face. For just an instant, she met his eyes.

And without a moment to second-guess, he mouthed, Run!

She obeyed, no hesitation. Surefooted as a mountain deer, she bounded down from the rocks and bolted off, back down the way they’d come. Probably toward the small copse of trees they’d passed a while back.

“After her! What are you waiting for!?”

Lord Warranhall’s voice was like a shock of cold water. Erryn snapped to attention with a sharp, “Yessir!” Thinking fast, he called to his brother. “Come on, I’ll need backup.” He was loathed to put his brother through anything strenuous after what he’d just been through, but he didn’t see a lot of options. He had to make this look believable. “Stay on alert,” he said briskly as he dashed past the elder Warranhall men, hearing Gareth scrambling down the rocks behind him.

He couldn’t wait for his brother, taking off after Ciara’s retreating form. She must have been using some sort of magic to speed her feet—there was no way she could just be that fast, was there? He had to work to even keep her in sight. He could hear Gareth panting behind him and winced with guilt. It seemed that Ciara had healed his brother, but he didn’t know what the younger man’s physical state really was.

But he had to come; not only would it help the ruse Erryn was forming in his mind, but his brother deserved the truth. They’d never been able to really keep secrets from each other anyway.

He wasn’t sure how long they ran, but they chased Ciara into the trees before they lost her. Clouds had rolled in to hide the sun, and the world around them was swiftly painted in shadow. When Ciara’s back disappeared behind a trunk and didn’t reappear, he drew up short. “Wait,” he hissed to Gareth, who skidded on the foliage and pebble strewn ground.

His brother panted, bending to grip his knees. “Ryn,” he rasped. “What…the hells? Ciara—she—I was…but then she—what?!”

Erryn couldn’t help smiling slightly. “It’s sort of a long story,” he said, turning in place to search the trees. “Ciara? Come out, will you?”

Gareth wheezed a laugh. “Do you really think the witch we’re chasing is just going to—“

Ciara stepped out from the shadows of two trunks and his little brother’s jaw dropped. She smiled slightly, nodding a hello at them. “Thanks, Ryn,” she said softly, eyes shining.

He shook his head, suddenly overcome with raw emotion. “Thank you,” he rasped, stepping forward. “You saved his life.” Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her and swept her into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he breathed next to her ear. “It’s just—it was all so much, I didn’t know how to—"

“Shh,” she soothed, patting his back as she returned the embrace. “It’s alright, I understand. I’m sorry too.”

Behind them, Gareth cleared his throat loudly. They broke apart and turned to look at him sheepishly. He raised an eyebrow; Erryn had to give him credit, he was handling the situation very well, all things considered.

“Does someone want to tell me,” he said with deceptive calm, “just what in the thirteen hells and the names of all gods and demons is going on?”

Explaining took a while. To Gareth’s credit, he only interrupted once or twice, and only to ask clarifying questions. Erryn and Ciara talked, taking the story in turns, and he listened, face impassive.

When they were done, he sat in silence for a long, long moment. Then he let out a long breath, stood, dusted his breeches, and crossed his arms over his chest, fixing Ciara in his green gaze. “What are you going to do now?” he asked, businesslike.

If Ciara was taken aback but his abruptness, she recovered quickly. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I can’t go back to Varcia…but the Warranhalls would never take me back either.”

“Maybe if we tried to explain…” Erryn started, but he couldn’t even finish the sentence. It just wouldn’t work. There were too many centuries of hatred for the word of three young people to change the Lord’s and Lady’s minds, regardless of the fact that two were sworn Guardsmen. He was proof of that, and he knew it—he’d only been able to truly believe Ciara when her magic had saved Gareth’s life.

He shook his head helplessly. “You have to go,” he said, looking at Ciara. “I don’t know where, but you can’t stay here. Maybe—maybe you could go back to Varcia, if you were careful about it. Or you could head north to the mountains, hide there for a while.”

She nodded slowly, fear and regret plain in her eyes. “I’ll manage,” she said, looking between the two brothers and forcing a smile. Suddenly, she rose to her feet, shaking dust from her skirts and planting her fists on her hips. “Well, I suppose we should say goodbye,” she said with strained cheerfulness.

Erryn got to his feet as well, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Gareth moved forward and took Ciara’s hand. “Good luck,” he said brusquely.

“Thanks.” She smiled softly. “I’m sorry I lied to you,” she said quietly.

Gareth seemed to hesitate, then pulled the girl into a hug. If he said anything, it was too soft for Erryn to make out. Then he released her, abruptly, and turned away to give Erryn a turn.

The older brother stared at the girl for a long moment, then pulled her into a brief, tight hug. “Thank you,” he said quietly, “and I’m sorry for this.”

“Me too,” she whispered. Then she broke away, smiling though her eyes were overly bright. “I’m glad I met you two,” she said, looking back and forth between the two of them. Then her smile became more sincere. “And I get the feeling I’ll see you again. Someday.”

Erryn smiled slightly. “Someday,” he repeated. Then he and Gareth turned and began to walk back the way they’d come.

“Oh, and boys?”

The paused, twisting to look at her over their shoulders.

Ciara’s smile was bright and pure, dimples plainly showing, eyes glimmering with just the faintest sheen of gold. “Your father was a great man—but you are both so much more than just Darian Cooper’s legacy.”

Before either had a chance to say anything, she simply shimmered away into the shadows.