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Flynn lifted his head, stroked her hair. “I see him in you, and it’s a comfort. You’re a comfort to me.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I thank whatever powers put me in this place at this time, and youwith me. Little red rabbit,” he murmured before he kissed her again, then left her alone under the willow.
And alone she wanted to shake under that shared grief, just crumple under the weight of it.
Not here, she thought, where someone might find her, see her. Stepping out, clear of the branches, she called her dragon.
Yes, yes, dear God, she needed air, and distance, and release.
When Lonrach landed, she climbed onto his gold-tipped red back. “Just wait,” she told Bollocks before he could scramble up with her. “Just wait.”
And sent Lonrach bulleting into the sky. High and fast so the air streamed over her, sent her hair, her cloak flying. The wind bit as they went higher, higher, through the clouds and the damp held inside them. When Talamh below her spread like a child’s toy with the distance, she screamed.
Screamed, screamed out the rage so tightly bolted to the grief. She felt the air shake with it, heard thunder boom with it, lightning flash through it. And didn’t care.
This was hers, and hers alone, for every drop of blood shed, for all the tears, all the loss. Dark and light, twin sides of her rage, clashed so the sky swirled and shook, the clouds broke and wept. Lifting her arms high, hands knotted into fists, she welcomed the storm.
“I will damn you!” She shouted it. “I swear by all the gods, for my father, for Phelin, and for all, I will bring you death.”
She took Lonrach down and down, showing him where she needed to go, where she hadn’t had the strength to go since that bloody day.
When he landed in the forest, with the trees whipping, the rain pounding, she leaped off to stand facing the Tree of Snakes. Her blood had opened this portal to bring a hell to Talamh; she, her grandmother, and Tarryn had closed it with theirs.
She drew power, more and more, lifted her face to the storm, merged with it. And stood, lit like fire, both in and outside herself.
“Hear me, Odran the Damned. Hear me and tremble. I am Breen Siobhan O’Ceallaigh. I am Daughter of the Fey, of man, of gods. I am the light and the dark, hope and despair, peace and destruction. I am the key, the bridge, the answer. And with all I am, I will end you. Yourblood will boil in your veins, your flesh will burn, and all the worlds will hear your screams of fear and pain. Hear me, Odran, as the gods once cast you out, I will burn you to ashes that even hell won’t take. And you will be as nothing. This is my vow. This is my destiny.”
She stood, hands lifted, light swirling from them, and her eyes as dark and fierce as the storm.
“Breen. Step back from there.”
Her head whipped around, and power with it. Keegan had to hold up both hands to block enough of it to stay standing.
“Step back,” he repeated. “Would you risk opening it with your fury?”
“It will not open. But he hears me.”
“So you’ve had your say, now step back.” Because she stood too bloody close with power rolling off her, wave after wave, he strode up to her.
When he took her arm, the jolt all but rattled his bones, but he pulled her away.
Bollocks stood wet and whining as she stared with power and fury into Keegan’s eyes.
“Do you think you can stop me?”
“If I must.” He put himself between her and the portal and saw some of the temper dim into confusion. “You have to let it go now.”
“What? Let what go?”
“You brought the storm, now let it go.”
“Oh God.” She pressed a hand to her face, shuddered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Shaking, she lowered to the ground. “I’m so sorry.”
The wind snapped off; the rain died. The power that quaked in the air faded away.
“You had no business coming here alone,” he began, but she curled into a ball and began to weep.
With the rage emptied out, she only had tears.
Keegan lowered down as Bollocks ran over to cry softly against her.
