“Brother,”Cian said into Declán's mind, pulling him back to the here and now.“Something fell out of the totem when Aodh hit it this last time. Do ye see?”
Declán kicked back an enemy warrior who had just reached the battlement, then eyed the rubble. Tried to see clearly through the cloying smoke left behind by Aodh. Eventually, his gaze locked onto what his brother referred to.
By the looks of it, a pouch cinched with a blue ribbon.
“There’s something in that,”he exclaimed, sensing what it contained.“Riona hid more sketches in the totem at some point.”
“Then ye need see to it straight away,”Cian replied.“For we cannot hold back the enemy much longer.”
He hated abandoning his men up here, but Cian was right. If Riona had left more sketches for him years ago, they would likely tell him what to do next.
“I must see to something,” he said to his nearest man. “Whatever ye do, hold the wall!”
Before his man had a chance to respond, Declán raced down the stairs and made his way to the pouch. The scrolls inside looked as old as the sketch that had warned him Riona would end up with Raghnall when she first traveled back in time. He stumbled back when Aodh reigned fire over the castle again, and more pieces of the totem came crashing down.
“Get back,” he roared at any warriors in the immediate vicinity. “Clear the area before the whole thing comes down.”
He wiped dust from his eyes and unrolled the images, shocked at how much foresight Riona actually had.
One sketch depicted him on his horse, racing through the very mayhem unleashing around him. The next, him flying through the tunnel and able to pass through her magical bars. The one after that, racing through the forest seemingly unseen by the enemy until he reached King’s Echo.
“How would that be possible?” he muttered until he opened the last scroll and a pendant similar to the one he had given her fell into his palm. Just like hers, it had a tiny newborn leaf in it.
“They’re all connected,” he said aloud though no one heard him. Astonished, he felt the power in the pendant. “Every tree here, no matter its type, is born of King’s Heart. Born of its power.”
“Born of their power,”Cian said.“Our Unnamed Ones’ magic.”
“’Tis remarkable.”
“And telling,”his brother agreed.“Literally.”
Understanding what his brother meant, he shook his head.“I cannot enact what these drawings show. ‘Twould mean abandoning my people during their time of need. Leaving them to certain death.”
“’Tis not certain as long as Madison and I are here,”Cian replied.“And most definitely not certain if ye follow the path Riona laid out for ye.”
When Declán shook his head again, having trouble with the idea of fleeing like a coward, Cian made things clear.
“If ye stay and fight, ‘twill mean certain death for too many to count, and ye know it,”Cian said.“Go, Brother. End this the way Riona foresaw so that the lives already lost will not be in vain. So that we will not lose everyone. Most of all, though, go because ‘tis clearly the route to ye fulfilling yer end of the prophecy. If ye do not do that, ye’ve killed not just our brothers and me but my wife and yers as well as her sisters.”
Cian was right, but that didn’t make tying the pendant around his neck and racing toward the stables any easier. It didn’t make swinging onto his horse and flying out of the stables feel any less cowardly. Nevertheless, the only way to finish this was to follow Riona. A route that took him through the tunnel, right through the bars as her image had shown, and into the woodland heading south.
Heading right back to where it had all begun.
As difficult as it was, he set aside the cries of battle and focused on Riona. Her sketch proved true, and he flew past the enemy without them being the wiser. All the while, he called out to her telepathically, but she didn’t answer.
Yet he followed her thoughts as they flew into yet another memory together.
Again she raced through the forest on Caith with tears streaming down her cheeks, only this time, her heartache was his heartache. Her anguish his as they came across Declán in their last life, only older. As old as Raghnall had just been when he chopped down King’s Heart.
He was on his knees, surrounded by hooded druids with a knife to his throat.
“No,” she cried, swinging down from Caith. “Please. I beg ye.” She shook her head. “Do not. He did nothing.”
“Yet he claims he defiled ye,” one of the druids accused. “That he took ye to the ground and stripped away all that makes ye holy.”
“And I did,” his other self swore, his heart in his eyes when he looked at her. “I tried to take ye against yer will, but ye were not defiled. Ye fought me with everything in ye.” He looked at one of the druids, trying to convince them. “She is innocent in this. Not defiled. ‘Tis me and me alone who must suffer yer punishment.”
This was why Riona had felt he’d sacrificed for her. Because he had, after catching wind of what Raghnall intended to do. He was determined to go to the druid coven and claim her a harlot. Tell them she had seduced him so that they would hand her over to him.
