Chapter 21 | Cora

Chapter 21

Cora

C ora stared in disbelief. “You... that’s not possible.”

The man—King Edwin—arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t it? This little island has become quite the problem of late. What better way to solve a problem than to resolve it myself?”

The sounds of battle outside the door rose, nearly drowning out Edwin’s quiet voice. Cora glanced toward the door that led to the courtyard, then glared at Edwin. “My father will never surrender to you. You will not have our lands.”

“I think you’ll find that I will, Lady. Assuming Lord Kilkenny isn’t already dead—not as quick as he used to be, is he—he’ll be joining us shortly. And when he hears my terms, I think he’ll be more than happy with my... generosity.”

He smiled, but it was a cruel, ugly smile that made Cora want to heave. A thousand questions ran through her mind, but she pushed them away. Now was not the time for distraction. Eoin was dangerous in his own way, but the man before her exuded power and control. Like a poisonous snake in the path, he watched her as though waiting for his opportunity to strike.

She wondered how he’d gotten in without detection. A handful of guards flanked him, but they wouldn’t have been enough to allow him to just walk through the chaos outside unscathed. Her stomach roiled as she realized how much they’d underestimated their opponent. They’d all assumed that Edwin would send his raiders as he had before. They attacked villages at random, burning and pillaging as they went with no obvious goal except destruction.

For the King of England to be here—in her father’s home—on this night spoke to a more specific goal.

Outside, the bells rang once more. Cillian would hear them, she told herself. He would come. All was not yet lost.

“What is it you want?” she asked. Perhaps if she asked the right questions, she could delay him long enough for Cillian to arrive.

Edwin scoffed. “I should think that’s quite obvious,” he said. “I intend for this land to fall under English rule. Your Irish lords have had ample time to accept that inevitability. I’ve generously offered them terms of conquest without bloodshed, but they’ve refused. So, I’m going to make my point a bit more... vividly. When the other lords see how easily Ossory fell, even with the help of the fabled wolf-men, they will submit.”

Cora’s eyes widened. “How—how did you...?”

Edwin’s eyes flicked toward the pacing luchthonn behind her. “Oh, I admit I had some small support in that matter. Quite unexpected, to be sure, but valuable nonetheless.”

Eoin snarled, “And that valuable support had a price, English. Don’t forget your part of this agreement.”

Edwin sighed as though the question bored him. “Ah, yes. In exchange for your information and the delivery of Lady Kilkenny, you wish for the rest of your... pack to be allowed to leave under your leadership. After we ensure the death of Cillian Fane, of course.”

Cora was on her feet and charging toward Eoin before Edwin finished his sentence. “You cowardly traitor! How could you?”

Hands wrapped around her arms, yanking her away from Eoin at the last moment. He growled, teeth bared as he advanced on her. “How could I? I’m protecting my kind! Fane is the traitor! He’s the one mixing our line with worthless dall blood! I’ll see our pack return to the old ways—the right ways! None of this allying with rodents, who ought to be nothing but prey in our teeth!”

His ranting grew so wild that spittle landed on her cheek. In his rage, Eoin was nearly feral. He clenched his fists as though his claws might pop at any moment. When she’d first come to the luchthonn camp, he would have terrified her.

Now she only wanted to tear his eyes out.

“You spineless gobshite! You don’t deserve to be alpha, you absolute bas—”

A large hand covered her mouth, cutting off her tirade.

Edwin shook his head as he moved between her and Eoin. “Such language, Lady. And here I’d been told you were a meek thing. Dutiful and easily frightened, I heard. It would seem your time amongst these monsters has corrupted you, hasn’t it?”

Cora glared at him, still silenced by his guard. Edwin smiled and wiped the flecks of spittle from her cheek. “As it happens, I agree with you. Well, to a point.”

He snapped his fingers. Suddenly, two of the guards grabbed Eoin by the arms, easily restraining him. Eoin’s eyes went wide, a feral growl reverberating from his chest. “What is this? We had an agreement!”

Edwin faced Eoin, eerily calm in the face of the luchthonn’s rage. “Ah—you see, there’s been a change of plan. That agreement isn’t in the crown’s best interest, so I’ll be changing the terms.”

Eoin strained against the guards, but they held him fast. Edwin approached, a disturbing gleam of interest in his eyes. “You know, when you contacted me, I almost didn’t believe you. Men who could turn into wolves? Who would believe such a thing? But thankfully, as king, I have experts in many areas of knowledge available to me, and there are those who know of your kind. There is one thing they said that I’d like to put to the test, though. You don’t mind, do you?”

He pulled a dagger from his belt. As the guards held an increasingly frantic Eoin, Edwin unpinned the wolf’s skin and slid it off of Eoin’s shoulders. Cora’s eyes widened, fear turning her blood to ice in her veins. A luchthonn never parted from his wolf’s skin. Cillian had explained the bond between luchthonn and wolf, and how the skin connected them. Without the skin, they wouldn’t be able to change.

Edwin held the skin in his hand, testing the fur between his fingers. “Truly fascinating,” he said. “To think such a monstrous creature relies on something so fragile as this.”

He glanced back at Cora and gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Let this be a lesson—every enemy has a weakness. And, if my sources were correct, this particular enemy has just one.”

Without warning, he slashed his dagger through the skin, separating the head from the rest. Cora gasped as Eoin howled, his body thrashing with such force that the guards lost their grip. He fell to the floor, screaming in pain, raking his nails down his skin until they left bloody furrows.

Cora watched, horrified at the sight before her. Edwin nodded to one guard, who bent over Eoin and slashed his throat from ear to ear. Edwin turned to her and smiled—the same cruel, ugly smile he’d given her before. “Always good to find that one’s information is sound.”

He spoke so calmly, as though he were speaking about the weather. He might as well have been at a dinner party rather than next to a dying man. Eoin choked on the blood, his hands at his throat as though it would stop the crimson flood. Finally, after what seemed like an age, he stilled, his blood seeping out onto the stone floor around him.

Cora stared at the body, too shocked to construct any sort of thought. Just as she forced herself to look away, a howl pierced the air. A moment later, another—then another. Soon, a chorus of howls rose that seemed to shake the roof above them.

“Quickly, give me the girl.”

They passed her into Edwin’s arms before she could react, and suddenly, his dagger was at her throat.

“I imagine your husband will join us presently,” he murmured into her ear. “Be a good girl, and I won’t have to use this. Make no mistake, though, I will not hesitate to spill your blood just as easily as the wolf’s should you misbehave.”

Before she could answer, the door to the main hall, which had been barred before the battle, burst open, shattering into splintered pieces. Edwin’s guards cursed as enormous, shadowed bodies stepped inside. The moonlight behind them only made them appear larger. With nothing but the sound of deep growls and the sight of glowing eyes in the dark, they were truly terrifying.

Or they would be if Cora couldn’t see familiar blue eyes staring straight at her. The wolves approached, some on four legs and some on two. Their snarls promised death, and Cora noticed the way Edwin’s guards clutched their weapons. She allowed herself a small smile as her wolf stalked closer. Despite what had happened to Eoin, she wasn’t afraid.

Edwin’s grip tightened. He pressed the blade close enough to be unnerving without harming her. “Remember,” he whispered, his lips against her ear, “you behave, or you die.”

Cora had no intention of dying by an Englishman’s hand.

Neither did she have any intention of obeying.

When the luchthonn drew near, Edwin called out, “That’s close enough, thank you. Might I have the pleasure of speaking with Cillian Fane?”

Cillian rose on two feet and growled so loud Cora felt it in her bones.

“I thought as much. I have an... opportunity for you, if you will. All I require is a moment of your time.”

The wolf’s expression was easily interpreted, even without words. Cora could almost hear her husband’s voice telling Edwin to shove his ‘opportunity’ up his arse.

The dagger at her throat twitched, and she couldn’t help flinching away. Cillian snarled, stepping closer.

“Ah-ah-ah, stay where you are. But I feel this conversation would be best had man to... well, as close to man as you can be, I suppose.”

Cora glanced toward Eoin’s body, trying to draw Cillian’s eyes to it. He followed her gaze but gave no sign that the sight of his former pack-mate’s body had any effect on him. She hoped he noticed the skin. Hoped he realized what it meant because she couldn’t tell him without risking her own life.

Cillian hesitated, his eyes still fixed on Edwin’s blade at her throat. Edwin pressed the dagger harder. Something warm and wet slipped down her neck—blood.

Cillian gave another bone-chilling growl and made the change from wolf to man. He kept the skin over his head, and highlighted by moonlight, he resembled one of the battle gods of old.

“Know this, English,” he growled, his voice low and deadly. “Any blood you draw from my mate, I’ll take from you a hundred times over.”

Despite the danger she was in, warmth spread through Cora’s chest. To think she’d ever been afraid of her wolf—her mate. She glanced around, looking for anything that might help. Cillian would protect her—or avenge her—but it was up to her to look for ways to help. The dagger still hung heavy in her pocket. If Edwin were focused on Cillian, he might not notice her reaching for it. She looked down, her eyes sliding along the length of Edwin’s arm. He’d wrapped one arm around her middle and the other around her neck, resting his dagger against the opposite side. An idea struck her as she stared at his arm. She’d have to time it just right, but it could work.

As Cora puzzled out her plan of attack, Edwin grimaced. “That is rather... undignified, isn’t it? Haven’t you a robe or something?”

Cillian smirked and cupped himself. “No surprise that a cockless coward who hides behind a woman would be frightened of mine.”

Edwin scoffed and said, “What you call hiding, I call insurance. Now, are you ready to hear my proposal? Or shall I add your lovely wife’s corpse to the pile in the courtyard?”

Cillian gave her a strange look, then crossed his arms. “I’m listening.”