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She stepped again and again until her small hand settled in his. Rion gently wrapped his callused fingers around hers. “Now show me where the Lady of Brónach is and let’s get out of here.”
***
Maybe Kaylee knew, maybe she didn’t. Part of Rion hoped she didn’t. He was certain his mother wouldn’t recognize him and he didn’t want to overwhelm her by popping in and saying, Guess what? The evil psycho bastard who trapped you here took your kid, too.
After eighty years of captivity, Rion wasn’t even certain what he was walking into. Was there any hope she might still be sane?
He watched Kaylee run from the door and down the hall, carrying the small oil lamp to light the way. The half-breed seemed to like his mother enough, but that hardly gave him any hope. She probably liked anyone who so much as smiled at her.
Rion eyed the dank hallway. It was as plain as any dungeon he’d seen. Just stone with unlit braziers lining the single long hall. Darkness beckoned to him from either end, and his skin prickled as he imagined who might be waiting in the shadows.
But he focused on Kaylee. She wasn’t afraid, which meant there wasn’t anyone else down here. She knew how to get to the surface too, which was exactly where they’d be headed next.
Kaylee pulled a ring of keys from her pocket and fumbled through them, searching for the right one. She glanced at him once, as if afraid she was taking too long, but he remained still, a mask of patience on his face.
Inside, every instinct roared at him to hurry.
Finally, her little hands fit an iron key into the lock.
Iron. Why was everything made of iron?
Rion’s heart galloped in his chest when Kaylee finally swung the door open.
His throat went dry and Rion was once again a youngling who’d gotten caught stealing sweets from the kitchens. He remembered his mother’s feigned anger in the presence of his father, then her laughter afterward. She’d made him promise not to get caught again and had promptly sent him to bed with a bag full of pastries he was instructed to share with Saoirse.
Rion followed Kaylee inside and sucked in a breath when the soft light hit his mother’s face. Eighty years and there she was, hanging right in front of him.
Her face was harsher than he remembered, the lines of her cheekbones prominent as they stuck out against her pale skin. Her once beautiful hair was long yet matted beyond repair.
But it was her. Gods, it was her.
Tears welled in his eyes and Rion couldn’t stop them from falling. He’d longed for his mother like no other. He had convinced himself that maybe she could have loved the monster dwelling beneath his skin. Maybe with her, his life could have been different. Normal.
Kaylee stood there, looking between them with a confused expression on her face.
He collected himself and quickly wiped his eyes. There would be time for sappy reunions later. Right now, he needed to remove her chains and escape.
Rion stepped forward, praying she wouldn’t recognize him based on scent alone. Unless . . . maybe she already knew. Maybe Niall had told her all about his new prisoner. Or maybe he’d kept her in the dark about her children and tormented her with false images the way Niall had done to Rion.
Rion stepped again then his mother growled. A vicious noise that sounded more animal than Fae. More feral than civil.
That familiar emerald green gaze lifted and Rion paused, stunned by the hateful gleam in her eyes that dared him to approach.
His mother had always been calm and graceful. Powerful yet elegant. He’d forgotten she was also one of the fiercest warriors Brónach had ever seen.
Rion had read the stories that spoke of a female warrior who had torn across the battlefield, using her abilities as a seer to predict her enemy’s movements while she summoned plants from within the Earth’s core to eradicate them after.
It wasn’t always his father who had dealt with those giving their country trouble.
Eimear, The High Lady of Brónach pinned him with that warrior’s gaze now. She surveyed him from head to toe, ready to bare her fangs and fight against anything he threw at her.
Despite eighty years of torment, Niall had not broken her.
Rion bowed his head slightly then lifted his arms to display the shackles and chains that hung there. “I am not your enemy.” Her growling ceased and she studied him. Eimear scented the air and Rion went stiff. Part of him hoped she wouldn’t recognize him while another part prayed she would.
“I’m going to break the chains,” Rion said, carefully lifting the ax. “I’m sorry I don’t have the keys.” She didn’t nod and Rion wondered if she understood him at all. She watched him circle around to her ankle and he pulled the chain tight before slamming the ax against it just as he’d done with his own. Rion ensured there wasn’t more than a few inches hanging from the shackle. No need to weigh them down or risk tripping.
Rion rose and examined her arm. Shit, why hadn’t he lowered her down already? He ran for the door and pulled the cold lever; his mother fell into a heap on the floor.
