“Protect the king!” he said to Julie and Chloe.
Julie’s ring had started to shine, and Chloe’s eyes were sparkling. In turn, the trees around them.
They had discussed her blossoming magic at length while traveling and knew it tied in with the forest. Chloe was positive that's how she’d made the possessed men vanish after she was stolen, then again, made the Disinherited flee their possessed hosts during the overnight attack. In fact, it seemed she’d been feeling unusually kindred with trees since coming in contact with the old oak out front of the colonial in New Hampshire.
Now it all made sense, according to her.
“Because I lived amongst them for so long, the trees aid my magic,” Chloe had said, marveling at it. “I am strongest when I’m amongst them. They give me energy.”
She was right, too, seen clearly in the way the forest seemed to block warriors from getting to Chloe and David. Meanwhile, Julie held her own beside him, having learned to fight quite well.
Yet the battling was everywhere, and their camp’s numbers were dwindling quickly.
Men were caught unaware, either passed out drunk or close to it.
So many came at Aidan, he could barely keep up. Worse yet, though he fought better than ever for some blasted reason, his magic fluctuated again, and he had no idea why.
At least not until he realized Chloe’s fluctuated as well.
It took him a moment to register that. While he knew the magic of their Claddagh ring was shared, this felt different. Hard to explain. Glitchy. Much like Grant's ethereal form lately. He was so caught off guard by the sensation, it took him several seconds longer than it should have to get to her when everything went wrong.
Much like it had when he was forced to kill Regent Moray.
“Aidan,” Chloe screamed.
He fought like a madman but made no headway. It almost felt like everything had gone into a slow motion tailspin. Like time crawled yet passed in a flash. Fast and slow all at once. Lightning sizzled over his Viking blade as he fought, but it didn’t get him to her any quicker.
But then maybe he wasn’t supposed to.
Maybe this was destiny's plan all along.
Donald arrived far too quickly, racing toward David and Chloe with his blade drawn, his lips curled back in a vicious sneer. He wanted the king dead.
He wouldseethe king dead.
“Chloe,” Aidan roared, trying to tell her to flee with the king, to protect him, but he was unable to form a coherent word.
He was too terrified.
Too desperate.
Trying to stop something he knew couldn't be stopped.
That was not stopped but unfolded in a vicious, almost hard to believe set of events.
Donald was almost to David, his blade full swing when Robert Bruce came out of nowhere and ran his sword through the regent’s gut. While relieved, it was short-lived. Because things only got worse from there. His stomach sank when Robert’s eyes changed in an instant and turned David’s way.
Just like that, Donald’s possession had seeped into Robert.
“My God,” Chloe whispered, trying to protect David the best she could. “Robert.”
That’s all she got out before things got even worse.
Robert thrust his blade at David only for Cray to race out of the night, not drunk in the least, but grim as he ran his blade across the Bruce’s neck. All the while, Aidan tried to get closer, but it felt like miles rather than feet were between him and Chloe.
Then it happened.
His worst nightmare finally unraveled.
His selfless lass saw what no one else did and leapt forward, taking the blade whipped at Cray. His cousin spun, baffled, catching her before she hit the ground.
“I’m sorry, Aidan,”she whispered into his mind, her internal voice fading as Cray fell to his knees with her in his arms.“I owed him this at the very least.”
Then, with a dagger lodged in her heart, she faded away altogether.
