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Before she could react, Cian shoved her down. Under the shouting and chaos, she heard his low, steady cursing. And felt his blood warm on her hand.
“Oh God, my God, you’re shot.”
“Missed the heart.” He spoke through gritted teeth. She saw the pain on his face as he pushed away from her to sit.
When he reached up to grip the arrow out of his side, Glenna dropped to a crouch, pushed his hand aside. “Let me see.”
“Missed the heart,” he repeated, and once again gripped the arrow. He yanked it out. “Bugger it. Bloody fucking hell.”
“Inside,” Glenna began briskly. “Get him inside.”
“Wait.” Though her hand trembled a little, Moira gripped Cian’s shoulder. “Can you stand?”
“Of course I can bloody stand. What do you take me for?”
“Please, let them see you.” Her free hand fluttered over his cheek for just an instant, like a brush of wings. “Let them see us. Please.”
When she linked her fingers with his she thought she saw something stir in his eyes, and felt its twin shift inside her heart.
Then it was gone, and his voice was rough with impatience. “Give me some damn room then.”
She got to her feet again. Below was chaos. The man she assumed was the assassin was being kicked and pummeled by every hand or foot that could reach him.
“Hold!” She shouted it with all her strength. “I command you, hold! Guards, bring that man to the great hall. People of Geall! You see that even on this day, even when the sun shines on us, this darkness seeks to destroy us. And it fails.” She gripped Cian’s hand, lifted it high with her own. “It fails because there are champions in this world who would risk their lives for another.”
She laid a hand on Cian’s side, felt his wince. Then held up her bloody hand. “He bleeds for us. And by this blood he shed for me, for all of you, I raise him to be Sir Cian, Lord of Oiche.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Cian muttered.
“Be quiet.” Moira said it softly, with steel, and her eyes on the crowd.
Chapter 3
“Half-vamp,” Blair announced as she strode back into the parlor. “Multiple bite scars. Crowd did a number on him,” she added. “A regular human would be toast after the beating he took. And he’s not feeling so well himself.”
“He can be treated after I’ve spoken to him. Cian requires care first.”
Blair looked over Moira’s shoulder to where Glenna was bandaging Cian’s side. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s angry and uncooperative, so I would say he’s doing well enough.”
“We can all be grateful for his reflexes. You handled it,” Blair added, looking back at Moira. “Kept your cool, kept control. Tough first day on the job, nearly getting assassinated and all that, but you did good.”
“Not good enough to have anticipated a daylight attack. To remember that not all Lilith’s dogs require an invitation to come within these walls.” She thought of how Cian’s blood had run against her hand—warm and red. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“None of us will. What we need is to get information out of this asshole Lilith sent. But there’s a problem. He either can’t or won’t speak English. Or Gaelic.”
“He’s mute?”
“No, no. He talks, it’s just none of us can understand him. Sounds Eastern European. Maybe Czech.”
“I see.” Moira glanced back at Cian. He was stripped
to the waist, with only the bandage against his skin. Annoyance more than pain darkened his face as he sipped from a goblet she assumed held blood. Though he didn’t look to be in the best of moods, she knew she was about to ask another favor.
“Give me a moment,” she murmured to Blair. She approached Cian, ordering herself not to shrink under his hot blue stare. “Is there something more that can be done for you, to make you more comfortable?”
“Peace, quiet, privacy.”
