Page 40 of Crownless Heirs

Kyron met his eyes. “You would’ve tried to stop me.”

“I’m supposed to,” Conall snapped. “You ignored a direct command. You weren’t just told to stay away from her; you were bound to that order.”

“She was in danger.” Kyron argued.

“You think that matters to them? You think they care about the reason?” Conall stepped forward, the tension in his body coiled. “You defied the court. You defied the gods.”

“I saved her,” Kyron snapped.

“She’s the daughter of Lugh,” Conall said. “Do you understand what that means? Touching that thread means touching power older than you or I can name. They tolerate you because you kept the bloodline alive. That’s the only reason you’re standing here still.”

“I made a choice,” Kyron said. “And I’d make it again.”

Conall stared at him, fury and betrayal tangled in his features, the way his nose scrunched up, his fists balled at his sides. “You should have told me. I would have gone with you.”

“I know.” Guilt rose in Kyron’s eyes. “I’m not going back,” he said.

“And if war comes?” Conall asked. “Do you think you can stand on your own?”

“I don’t know,” Kyron said. “But I’ll stand where she is.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other. The silence was thick with grief and loyalty.

Conall stepped back. His shoulders straightened. His anger dulled to quiet resolve.

“I have to go,” he said. “The court calls. There’s talk of old forces stirring. The court’s whispering war, and not just among themselves. If war comes, the line you’ve crossed won’t just be personal; it’ll be political. They may have no choice but to get involved now. So watch your back, Kyron.”

Kyron nodded once. “Till next time?”

Conall gave a faint, tired smile. “Till next time.”

He shifted again, limbs bending, bones cracking. The wolf emerged once more and vanished into the city.

Maelan stepped up beside Kyron. His voice was quiet. “You didn’t tell us that stepping back here might have ended in imprisonment or worse.”

Kyron watched the branches sway in the wind. “I didn’t tell you a lot of things.”

They continued along the perfectly smooth paths until they reached a winding trail leading up a mountain. At its peak sat a few homes, the largest of which stood adorned with a gold roof, scattered emeralds and rubies gleaming along its edges. Massive stained-glass windows led to an ornate golden door, framed by a towering gate wrapped in thick, twisting vines.

Only two other homes sat atop the mountain, set far back from this one. From here, the view stretched far beyond the Tuatha Dé Danann territories; it was breathtaking, endless. Kyron strolled up to the gate, pushing it aside effortlessly before motioning for Maelan to follow.

Maelan lingered for a moment, taking in the sight before him. The rooftops shimmered against the skyline, rippling like waves. Fields of flowers stretched endlessly, oceans of pristine color swaying gently in the breeze. He drank it in, just a moment longer, even though this place made him uneasy; it was undeniably beautiful. He turned back and followed Kyron through the gates.

The house was decorated in earthy tones, grand yet effortlessly elegant. Greenery cascaded over the structure, as if nature itself had woven into its very foundation. Blossoms and ivy curled around the posts and railings, thriving without a single speck of dirt in sight, a miracle considering the massive hawthorn tree standing at the center of the foyer, its branches in full bloom.

Kyron moved through the hall, passing neatly arranged vases and trinkets that lined the walls, their careful placement untouched by time. The corridor led into a large circular room bathed in sunlight streaming through skylights, an indoor greenhouse alive with vibrant flora.

A woman stood among the greenery, tending to the plants with practiced grace. Her hair, the color of cinnamon kissed with the faintest hue of red, framed a face both striking and delicate. Her eyes, as green as ivy, gleamed with warmth; her fair skin smooth as porcelain.

She turned at the sound of Kyron’s footsteps, her voice rich. “Kyron, as I live and breathe.”

She set her tools aside and moved toward him, wrapping her arms around him in a firm, affectionate embrace.

“Máthair.” Kyron returned the hug before stepping back, turning toward Maelan.

“Maelan, this is Aine. My aunts, Gráinne and Fenne, live in the other homes on this hill.”

Maelan bowed at the waist, dipping his head. “It’s an honor, Goddess of Summer, Aine.”