14 TWENTY YEARS TOO LATE

REMAINING BY THE fire, Bree watched the flames dance. Cailean’s response had been a slap to the face, one that still stung.

It was a lie too, for she’d seen the concern flare in his eyes about her injury.

She was still brooding—and trying to come up with a way to get him to thaw toward her—when he returned with a handful of moss a short while later. Stopping off at one of his saddlebags, he extracted a small wineskin before kneeling in front of her once more. He then proceeded to clean her wound with what smelled like strong wine, using a scrap of moss as a cloth before applying some to the wound. After that, he tore the bottom of her sleeve off and used it as a makeshift bandage.

She watched him work, noting the deft movements of his hands.

However, the silence between them grew more awkward by the moment, and she was desperate to smooth things over.

“You know some of the healing arts, I see,” she said finally as he secured the bandage with a knot.

Cailean glanced up, meeting her eye. “All druids are taught how to tend to minor injuries. My skills end here though.” He moved back, putting some distance between them once more. “You’ll need to dress it again and put on a clean bandage tomorrow.”

Bree nodded. “I will … thank you.”

He cut his attention away, focusing on feeding a branch to the flames. In the ruddy firelight, his face looked tired—a sign that he’d drawn too deeply on his magic during the attack earlier.

“Will you tell me where you’re heading?” she asked after a spell. Aye, she risked angering him again, but she didn’t want to pass the evening in silence.

He hesitated a moment, his eyes dark in the firelight as he looked at her, before replying, “Morae.”

“Will the man you’re looking for be there?”

His mouth pursed.

Bree huffed a deep sigh, her frustration spilling over. The man could be as immovable as a mountain when he wanted to be. “Shades, Cailean. I know you don’t believe it, but I’m on your side.”

His mouth twisted, a dark brow rising. “Really?”

“Aye.” Bree leaned forward, her gaze never leaving his. “Really.”

They stared at each other for a moment longer before he reached for another stick for the fire. Adding it, he glanced up at her once more. “The fight master’s name is Eilig.”

“And why are you searching for him?”

“We have an old … debt … that must be settled.”

Bree frowned. She hated it when others spoke in riddles. “What did he do?”

Cailean’s face hardened, and for a few moments, she was sure she’d pushed things too far. However, after a moment he replied, “he destroyed my family.”

A long silence pulsed between them before Bree cleared her throat. “He killed them?”

His mouth twisted. “As good as.”

“Will you tell me what happened?”

Cailean glanced away, dragging a hand down his face. He had the look of a man who was about to have a rotten tooth extracted.

Bree decided to be patient.

She’d asked him about his past before, at Duncrag, but it had been like butting heads with a stone wall. No, she couldn’t force this out of him.

She needed to wait until he was ready to speak.

The fire crackled, and a large shadow appeared between two oaks a few feet away.

Bree tensed, her hand straying to the grip of the knife strapped to her thigh. However, a massive dog with a shaggy moss-green coat and glowing golden eyes padded across the sodden ground to the fire, sinking down next to Cailean.

Have you two made it up, yet? Skaal’s mind touched hers.

Bree stilled in surprise before her mouth curved into a smile. It was a relief to be able to communicate with the fae hound like this; in her Marav form, it had felt as if she’d had a limb cut off. Not quite. Give me time, and I will .

Fear not, he’ll forgive you … eventually .

“Are you two having a private conversation?” Cailean interrupted them, his gaze narrowed.

“Aye,” Bree replied, her smile turning rueful as their gazes met. “What’s wrong … were your ears burning?”

His frown deepened, his lips parting as he started to respond. However, Skaal nudged Cailean in the ribs with her nose and gave a low whine, as if apologizing for her howls earlier.

Sighing, he reached out and put his arm around her neck. “I’m all right, lass,” he said roughly. “Bree shielded me from the worst of it.” His attention flicked once more to where Bree sat observing them.

“My home … Harra … was attacked by slavers,” he said finally. “We were all taken … my parents, my elder sister … and me. They sold us to a man who led a traveling band of fighters. Eilig.” He ground out the man’s name like a curse. “My father then spent the next few years fighting in the arena, while the rest of us toiled in other ways. It was my chore to empty the turd buckets and scrub them clean … and run errands for him.”

The glint in Cailean’s eyes made Bree still. She could almost taste the hatred he bore this man.

“My mother died of the bloody flux during our second winter on the road.” He glanced away, his gaze unfocusing. “My father changed after that. He was Eilig’s best fighter, but he became reckless in the arena, and then … around six moons after Ma died … he fell.”

“How old were you?”

“It was my tenth summer.” Cailean picked up a stick and poked at the embers, sending a shower of sparks high into the night air. “Eilig started training me to be a fighter shortly after Da died. He was a harsh tutor, and his lessons often ended with him beating me senseless … but I learned quickly, and upon my thirteenth spring, he pushed me into the arena.”

Bree frowned. “That’s young.”

“Too young. I barely survived my first few fights, although I killed each opponent. Word spread of the boy warrior who could bring down a fighter twice his size.” He halted then, his features tightening. “About that time, Eilig raped my sister.”

Bree stilled as she realized where this tale was heading.

“Enya was just two years older than me,” Cailean continued, “but I’d noticed the fight master watching her as she changed from a lass to a woman.” Iron crept into his voice then. “When I realized what he was doing, I attacked him. It was an idiotic act, for despite my growing strength, he was still a much better fighter than me. He beat me so badly I didn’t wake up for days … and when I did, he warned me that he’d slit my sister’s throat if I ever challenged him again.”

He broke off then, his gaze shadowing. “It nearly killed me to know he was mauling her every night … and that I was too weak to stop him.”

Skaal growled in Bree’s mind. Why do the worst ones always rise to power?

Turds float, of course , she replied. Cailean didn’t realize it, but the fae hound understood every word he uttered.

Skaal whined then and pushed herself against Cailean. He reached up once more and stroked her shaggy back.

“A few moons later, we were at Baldeen for the Mid-Summer Fire festivities, and the local overking had pitted some of his own slaves against Eilig’s,” Cailean continued, his gaze turning inward now. Bree didn’t dare interrupt him; she’d never heard her taciturn husband speak so lengthily. “Folk from miles around came to watch the fights. One of them was an enforcer from the Isle of Arryn. He watched me best one of the overking’s slaves … a seasoned fighter … and approached Eilig afterward.” His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “Apparently, he’d sensed ‘the gift’ in me.”

“And the fight master let you go?” Bree asked, incredulous.

“Aye, once the druid handed over a bag of gold coins.”

“He bought you?”

“He paid for my freedom,” Cailean corrected her. “Enya pleaded for me to take her with me. I tried, but the enforcer refused to buy her as well.” He looked away, the firelight dancing across his face. “I promised Enya I’d return for her” —he paused then, swallowing— “that as soon as I was able, I’d be back to kill Eilig … and free her.”

A heavy silence settled over the campfire following this admission. Bree finally shattered it. “But you never did?”

“No.” He was staring into the flames again, lost in the past. “I meant to … but my new life upon the Isle of Arryn, and the training they put me through, was intense, all-consuming. I had to prove myself, again and again. I was never given any time off … and I didn’t start earning any coin until I entered the High King’s service.” His face was haggard in the glow of the flames. “By then, a decade had passed, and it was too late.”

“She might still be alive,” Bree pointed out softly.

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Aye, although it’s unlikely. I’m twenty years too late.” He paused then, his blue eyes glinting. “But Eilig still breathes … and I intend to make him bleed for what he did to us.”

Nodding, Bree wrapped her arms around her knees to ward off the cold and damp that had seeped into her bones despite the fire’s proximity.

“The High King would have given you leave over the years … you could have gone after your former master at any time,” she said after a lengthy pause. “Why now?”

Cailean’s mouth curved into a humorless smile, his eyes darkening. “I thought I’d done such a good job of locking away my past in an iron strongbox and throwing it into a deep, dark loch … but then I took a wife, and she dredged it up from the depths and tore the lid off.”

Bree stared back at him, her pulse quickening.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he muttered. “This is all your fault.”

She swallowed. “Maybe I did you a favor,” she whispered.

His jaw tightened. “I knew the day you arrived at Duncrag that you were trouble.” His mouth twisted then. “By the time I realized you were keeping secrets, it was already too late.”

Bree licked suddenly parched lips. “Too late?”

“You’d somehow gotten your claws into me.”

She frowned. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it? You were sent to deceive me, by whatever means.”

“Aye … but I never intended to bond with you.”

She tightened her grip on her knees then. This conversation had taken a swift turn. It was easier when the focus had been on him. But now that they were talking about her , she suddenly felt as if she were standing on the edge of a parapet, with the Sharp Billed Wind pushing at her back. One hard gust and she’d tumble.

“That’s why I came to you in the Hallow Woods,” she admitted, wishing her voice didn’t sound so husky, so desperate. “I couldn’t let you walk into an ambush … not after what we’d shared.”

His frown slid into a scowl, and he leaned forward, glaring at her across the fire. “No, you let the rest of my warband die instead.”

“I repeat … I didn’t know that Mor would attack so early,” she replied, her pulse thudding in her ears now. “Let me also remind you that in delivering a warning, I betrayed my people.”

They continued to glare at each other, tension shivering in the air between them.

Skaal shifted next to Cailean, her golden eyes flicking from the enforcer to Bree. Well … this is friendly.