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“Go on, Kayla,” Cailean said roughly, cutting his wife a warning glance. “It doesn’t matter who ends him, just that the bastard dies.”
Not waiting for Bree to protest further, Kayla moved forward, fingers clenched around the hilt of her dagger. Dropping to her knees next to the druid, she slid one hand under his chin, lifting his head to expose his throat.
Iron flashed as she drew her blade over his windpipe in one savage motion.
The wet sound of choking followed.
Darach looked on, watching as Gregor’s big body convulsed and shuddered before he eventually went still.
A heartbeat passed.
And then, everything around them shifted.
The Circines had been fighting the enforcers and warriors who’d tightened their circle around Gregor, Niall, and Maol—but now their movements slowed and stiffened. Their strides stumbled.
Some of them dropped their weapons, bending double, gasping, as if someone had just punched the air out of their lungs. One or two of them looked around, blinking, faces ravaged.
And then Darach noticed it.
The silver glow in their eyes, the pulsing of their tattoos—had all disappeared.
Cries and groans filtered through the air.
A man dropped his sword and fell to his knees. Behind him, a woman collapsed, twitching, into the mud.
Darach couldn’t look away.
Many Circines survived though. A man crawled past him, while another staggered right, fighting his way blindly through the thick wall of briar on the southern edge of the road before disappearing into the pines.
No one tried to stop them.
Darach’s gaze shifted back to where Niall and Maol stood, unaffected, a few yards away. The latter had moved forward slightly in a protective stance before his king.
Niall, however, was staring at where Gregor was still pinned to the ground.
The king’s gaze swept the chaos around him.
His face had stiffened. His eyes glittered.
Ailsa appeared at Darach’s side then. Stepping close, she fastened her hand tight around his wrist. Blood splattered her pale face. He hoped none of it was hers.
They shared a look, and then he cut a glance over at Gregor’s inert form.
Bree and the others climbed off him and joined the enforcers who’d tightened their circle around Niall and Maol.
They were surrounded. It was over.
Skaal crouched, growling low in her throat, hackles raised.
The clag-doo hissed in his ears then. Skaal’s proximity vexed it. Darach cut the fae hound a sharp look and stepped forward.
Not caring that he was naked and bleeding, he met his brother’s eye. “You didn’t know, did you?”
Niall stared back, unblinking.
“All this time, you thought they were bound to you, but it was Gregor in control.”
For the first time, uncertainty crossed Niall’s face. His gaze flicked to where Gregor lay, face-down in the mud. He stared at the druid as if he expected him to explain himself.
