Page 90 of Where Broken Wings Fly

They did it. Saoghal did it. They defeated the Rachainn.

My heart lifted, my hopes along with it, until I saw Raegan regrouping with his fellow monarchs. They all gathered in front of the remnants of their army, their brows furrowed as they discussed.

“What are they doing?” I whispered to Urram, who continued to glide overhead and allow me the pleasure of watching from above. But Urram didn’t need to answer, because Raegan’s declaration shook the earth below.

“Consider this hour the hour of the death of the Rachainn!”

34

____________________

The whole Saoghal army cheered.

“But… But they’ve surrendered?” I muttered to myself. Urram let out a huff.

Raegan sat proud upon his stallion, his sword pointed at his enemies. “A valiant fight, it was indeed! You need now only hope the guards of Mag Mell do not frown upon your years of treachery.”

Rìoghail started to walk. Raegan was going to slaughter them.

Something deep in me, something hollow and confused and broken cried out. This isn’t right.

Urram’s head turned ever so slightly to the side, his eye meeting mine.

“Descend, Urram,” I growled, my grip renewed on his spikes.

Descend, he did.

We slammed down against the earth, his leathery body a solid mass between the Rachainn and Raegan.

Rìoghail squealed as he slid to a halt, even going so far as lifting slightly onto his hind end and striking the air with his hooves.

“Move, Olivia,” Raegan growled. He was unrecognizable. His eyes were neither the dark of Choilltean nor the light of Cluaineach, but red-rimmed and furious like only wrath lived in him. From head to toe he was drowning in blood, that of his own and that of others.

I stretched tall on top of Urram, my eyes boring into his and trying to bring sense back to him.

“I said move,” he hissed again.

Queen Tonn, King Nevan, and Diarmuid had all started to walk behind Raegan, likely eager to assist him in the utter desolation of the Rachainn.

But it was wrong.

I knew it was wrong. Why couldn’t they see that?

“No,” I finally said. My voice was thunderous, carrying across every inch of the meadow.

Raegan’s face stretched into something poisonous as he let out a scoff. “No?”

“No,” I repeated, squaring my shoulders as I stared at the Prince. “Do not harm them, Raegan.”

A bitter cackle erupted from him, joined soon by the other monarchs who all shook their heads. Urram was solid beneath me, his winged fore-legs sturdy against the ground, his whole body rigid as his head swung left to right in warning of anyone stepping any closer.

“Look at them!” I pointed back towards the Rachainn, who were all still on their knees with their heads hanging. “They’ve surrendered, Raegan. They’ve surrendered.”

“I do not care,” he snarled, palming his blade in his hand as Rìoghail snorted and pranced on the spot. “They slaughtered hundreds of us. They will receive no mercy in their final hours.”

Raegan pushed Rìoghail forward. Although unsure, the stallion moved.

Urram growled, low and viscous, saliva spewing from his maw as heat gathered at the back of his throat.