Kian lunged. Norin and Wiren grabbed him, holding him back, but the rage in Kian’s shouts filled the hall. Halverton stumbled as he backed away, eyes wide.
Aoife seized the moment. “Do you think the Morran men will fight for you after that? After they saw the omens? After they saw you?” She stepped closer, voice hardening.
Halverton growled deep in his throat. “The empire knows how to deal with traitors. They will send reinforcements within the week.” He straightened as he said it, regaining his composure. He glared at her, nostrils flaring. “You and your little friends will be crushed.”
He stepped closer. Behind her, she heard the shifting of bodies. She lifted a hand slightly, stilling them. He wasn’t going to hurt her. Not yet.
She understood then why he had stepped closer. He wanted to watch her face as his words landed.
“Dromdara will be as nothing to what we do here.”
Aoife smiled softly at him. Halverton’s eyes darted around the room as though he might have missed something.
“How do you plan to send word to Eldross?” she asked, “without anyone to carry your letter?”
He straightened, trying to recover his authority. “I will go myself.” He snapped. “I will return with an army.”
Aoife smiled faintly. “How are you going to do that when you can’t even leave the estate?”
He frowned, brows knitting together. “What?”
“You haven’t noticed, have you?” she said. “When’s the last time you left the grounds?”
Halverton backed away from her, colour draining from his face.
“It was the day you brought me here,” she said softly. “You swore you wouldn’t leave until you fell in love.”
“I made no such oath,” he protested.
“Oh, but you did. When you gave your blood to the Sheedar.”
There were hushed mutterings behind her.
He gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “You cannot leave because you believe you cannot. And because I will not let you. There is no magic here, only rules. And I make them.”
“Then go,” Aoife said simply. “You’ve tried, remember.”
She saw the moment it dawned on him that she was right.
“I am not trapped,” he snapped, crossing the hall to the sideboard and putting more space between them. “I did not make any oath. Even if I did, it is all nonsense superstition.”
She shook her head. “You’ll never leave this estate.”
For a heartbeat, he said nothing. His hand shook as he reached for the decanter. He didn’t bother with a glass, just raised the bottle and drank.
When he lowered it, he looked at her over the rim. The stare was hard. Calculating. He shook his head once, as if rejecting something he didn’t want to see, and drank again. She could see something shifting beneath the surface as the truth hit him in waves, and pride turned into fear.
He slammed the bottle down and stormed towards the doors, yanking them open. Eoin tumbled inside, wide-eyed. Halverton shoved the boy aside and stormed down the front steps, Wiren close behind.
Aoife ran after him, stopping briefly to see that Eoin was all right, catching a glimpse of her dagger in the boy’s hand. “Put that away,” she snapped, harsher than necessary, but too full of fear to be gentle.
Her skirts were heavy around her legs as she dashed down the stairs, the staff close behind. She reached the balustrade; Cormac was hanging limply from the post, his back a mass of torn flesh. The air stank of blood and sweat. The soldier wielding the lash paused between blows, slow and deliberate. Whether he drew it out from cruelty or reluctance, Aoife couldn’t tell.
Halverton reached the bottom of the steps and turned, voice cutting through the chaos. “Kill them all!”
Villagers’ screams rent the air. The staff froze where they were on the steps. Soldiers raised their rifles or swords, hands tightening on grips and triggers.
“Stand down! Drop your weapons!” Wiren shouted.
