Page 29 of Keldori By Daybreak

“And Tiernan,” Fana whispered. When no one had the heart to reply, she continued. “He’s not our enemy. He’d never hurt me.”

I caught Ciarán’s eyes but kept quiet.

“We have to make it up there first,” Ciarán said. “Lady Quill, do you know where they’ll be keeping the Lyrian?”

“They killed her grandfather.” Orla wrapped her arms around her knees as she huddled beneath her cloak. “If they haven’t killed her too, she’ll be in the prison suite.”

“If they haven’t killed her?” Ciarán straightened up.

“They probably haven’t.” Orla shrugged. “My uncle doesn’t kill if he doesn’t have to.”

“Very reassuring. What a relief to know my parents are only dead because he felt he had to kill them,” Ciarán growled.

“He killed my parents too.” Orla’s eyes glinted in the dull blue glow of our shelter as her eyes flitted from the Skal bottles to Ciarán. “The prison suite is on the top level of the city. Iseult will be there.”

We prepared to sleep in silence, each of us wearing all the clothing we’d packed on the trip to stave off the cold the best we could. The uneven floor of our cave was far from comfortable, and even though I’d curled up with Fana and Orla under all our cloaks, the bite of the icy air still stung. They were used to sleeping in rougher conditions than I was, however, and Fana was snoring next to me with Jonquil snuggled in the crook of her arm before I’d even attempted to close my eyes.

Ciarán sat at the mouth of our cave, leaning against the carved-out entryway with his hood up and his head bowed towards his chest. Something about the stillness of his shoulders told me that he was still awake.

That, and the buzzing of his thoughts vibrating against my skull.

Maybe he was keeping watch, or maybe he was too shy to join us on the floor as the only man in the group. Blood was still dried on his cheek after being struck by the falling ice. A sudden shiver racked his shoulders, and though he suppressed it, his arms and hands continued to shake.

“Are you cold?” I wasn’t sure he would be able to hear me at all. I might not have tried if I knew it would work. However, Ciarán’s voice purred back in my head.

“Go to sleep, Blue. You’re injured. You need the rest more than anyone.”

“You look cold.” I asserted.

“I’m fine.”

Liar.

“Why are you sitting over there?” I asked.

“I’m keeping watch. Now sleep, Blue.”

He was too proud to admit he was cold. Fine. I could play that game too. Besides, the blood on his face was my fault, and I wouldn’t hesitate to do what I was about to do if he were still Liam.

“But I’m cold,” I said.

For a moment, I thought maybe the link between us had severed, because Ciarán turned silent in my head, still unmoving where he leaned against the ice.

And then—

“Would you like my cloak?” he asked.

“I would.”

Ciarán’s chin lifted, and his opening eyes cast an orange glow over his nose. He stood, pulling his hood back and removing his cloak from his shoulders. Ice and frozen dirt crunched under his boots as he crossed the few feet between us.

He crouched, taking care not to meet my eye, and let the weight of his cloak fall over me.

“Now sleep,” he said in my head. “Please.”

He tried to straighten up, but I grabbed his hand.

“I’m still cold.”