Page 101 of Where Broken Wings Fly

Two light brows shot up as he pulled away enough to look me in the eye.

I was prepared for him to shoo off my question, like he had done before. His head angled even more, until his lips were grazing at the delicate layer of skin along my neck. I couldn’t help to gasp as heat suddenly flared there, his lips parting ever so slightly.

“You would not believe me even if I did answer that, Olivia,” he murmured, the noise sending yet another shock through my body. Then his lips went to close, as if he wanted to dive deep into some primal instinct with him that drove his desire to claim, to put those sharpened fangs to use. But at the last minute he sucked in a breath and lifted his head, finding my eyes immediately.

He took such a sharp turn to the conversation that I nearly tripped over his feet. “Saoghal is about to change.”

40

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I learned, about two hours later, that the throne rites to a kingdom in Saoghal need to be witnessed by their religious powers — a Druid — and one other. For that reason, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the few rays of it that penetrated Choilltean died, Raegan ushered everyone out of the throne room.

He left behind the only people that he wanted there— Killian, Niamh, Shea, the Druid, and… me.

All humour had disappeared from his face. All of that fox-like charm had slithered away. Instead of Raegan, a sly, cunning friend of mine, I was now looking up at a prince of Saoghal in every way. His chin had never been lifted so high, his shoulders never so square.

The doors creaked shut to the throne room and silence crashed down on us like a vengeful storm.

The Druid led Raegan up towards the throne, where the four of us were left to watch with our mouths slammed shut and our eyes far too dry.

He looked down at the throne. There was a hesitation in him, a rigidness to his spine, as he looked at that seat. All that it represented, all that it meant to him. With a deep breath pulled into his lungs, he turned to face us all and folded himself into it.

The air shifted. I felt it. The pixies at my side felt it. We all bristled.

The Druid crouched down and retrieved a second, newly carved crown that he had hidden away, and began a slow prowl towards the back of the throne where he finally paused.

The Druid looked up to the ceiling. “This one is Raegan. His full name is a curse, forgive me for the utterance of it in such a holy time. Gods of Saoghal, meet Raegan Righ’Fiodh’Faiche’Rugadh.”

I swore there was another shudder from the earth.

“From this day forward, know him as Raegan Righ’Fiodh’Rugadh.”

Raegan’s face pinched. There was agony within him. I wasn’t sure if his other friends could see it, but I certainly could. All I was left to think of was the Raegan of Cluaineach, bright blond-hair and hauntingly green eyes, haloed in sunlight with a head tipped back and throat bobbing, golden feathers snapped to either side of him, joyful smile upon his lips.

Duty and heart.

He had finally made a choice, it seemed.

“Raegan Righ’Fiodh’Rugadh,” the Druid continued, “do you accept this responsibility of ruler of Choilltean, protector of the people of Saoghal?”

“Y–”

Pandemonium spread across the room.

Rory had been right before. Raegan’s ascension to the throne was going to be a war, in and of itself. And in some ways, it was the events that came to pass during the beginning of his reign that threatened the downfall of Saoghal, not the Rachainn.

Everyone jerked violently as a group of pixies burst through the throne room door. Not just any pixies, but those of Cluaineach.

“Pause the succession at once!” Diarmuid howled as his group flooded the room.

But Raegan’s eyes glinted. His lips parted. Words were muttered to the Druid. The crown was lowered towards Raegan’s head.

Though there was shouting and screaming, metal crying, swords vibrating, the faintest ting of a taut bow string silenced the room.

I swore time froze as one lone, bold arrow soared across the space. Not towards Raegan, no, I refused to believe Rory was trying to kill his Prince. It was travelling towards the crown. To stop the succession.

Niamh didn’t know that, though. All she saw was an arrow travelling towards her Prince. Her friend. In a way, her brother. So she did what any of his friends would have done and made to stop it.