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Saoirse slumped against the nearest tree and let her body slide to the ground. A motion she immediately regretted when the harsh bark bit into her singed skin. She rested her head against the wide oak and tried to ignore the blistering pain.
Fiadh’s shadows had caught her during a skirmish. Well, they’d almost hit Zylah and Saoirse had intervened. The flames had licked across the tops of her shoulders. Not that Zylah had noticed. She’d been too busy screaming in Saoirse’s face.
Saoirse couldn’t save the half-breeds even if she wanted to. It was the grim reality of any confrontation. Not everyone made it out alive. But Zylah would. Even if Saoirse had to play the villain, Zylah would be free to live the life she pleased.
But Máili—
Saoirse clenched her jaw and closed her eyes. Images of Máili’s lifeless corpse replayed over and over in her mind. She didn’t want to imagine what Niall would do with her body. Máili deserved the most beautiful of services and Saoirse vowed she’d honor the female’s death and take her remains back to Nàdiar. She deserved that much, even if she had been a spy.
A shadow fell over her face, then a cold blade pressed hard against Saoirse’s throat. She opened her tired eyes to find Zylah’s cold gaze staring back. Her jaw was set, her hair disheveled, and blood had smeared over the left side of her cheek from a dagger that had flown too close. Saoirse had killed the warrior who’d thrown it.
A tired smirk. “Is this how you say thank you?”
Zylah’s lips curled back from her teeth. “You left them.”
“I didn’t have time to weigh my options. I made a decision and—”
“The wrong decision.” Zylah sneered. “You’ve never cared about them."
“Don’t presume to know what I do and do not care about.” Saoirse’s icy voice froze the female. “After what I just saw. After what he did to—” Saoirse’s throat went raw and she swallowed the burning tears. “I did what I had to do to ensure you survived. And I’d do it again.”
Zylah put more pressure on the blade and Saoirse struggled to swallow. “What’s the plan?” Saoirse asked. “Kill me, then run off to find the queen and demand she rescue those left behind?”
“I’d never make demands of her.”
“But you’ll make demands of me? I’m sister to The High Lord of Brónach.”
“That’s exactly why I make demands of you.”
“Because of where I’m from?”
“Because of your position among the powerful. Because of your ability to instill change and the refusal to do so.”
“I’m making changes.”
Zylah raised her voice. “Freeing one slave doesn’t undo a lifetime of feigned ignorance.”
Saoirse leaned back. Anger. So much anger, but Saoirse saw through it to the real emotions Zylah kept burying down. Feelings that she might not be able to let herself recognize lest they consume her. It wasn’t anger at all. “You blame Brónach for your brother’s death.”
She glared. “Among others.”
“Who else?”
Zylah clenched her teeth. “My mother, my father, and,” she swallowed hard. “My fiancée.” Saoirse froze. “That’s right, my fiancée. I was engaged, we were happy. My entire family had everything we could ever want, then your warriors,” her hands shook, “walked into our town and took everything. Everything,” she emphasized. "I watched—” her lips trembled. “I’ll never forget Brónach’s colors, or the looks on their faces.”
Light rain started overhead. Neither female moved. “If you believe killing me will bring them back—”
Zylah growled. “I know it won’t bring them back. But I don’t care. I swore I’d tear Brónach apart one day. I swore I’d kill the entire royal family and put an end to your wretched line.”
“Would you resort to killing children, too?” Zylah didn’t move. “If I told you Alec had sired a child, would you go after the infant?”
“I’m not a monster.”
“No, you’re not. You are one of the bravest females I’ve ever met and I admire you for what you’ve already accomplished.”
“Flattery isn’t going to save your life.”
“I don’t intend it to.” Saoirse gently took Zylah’s wrist and positioned the blade lower. “You’ll hit the artery better here.” The blade bit into Saoirse’s skin.
