Page 115 of Brutal Birthright

There was no clear sun overhead here. Just an eerie haze to the sky, making it impossible to know what time of day it might be. Nothing seemed to exist in the place that they could see.

It left them fucking blind. Even with their eyes wide open.

At their backs, the opening of the portal shimmered like a heat ripple above the flat basin. An easy route to leave by should they need to extract any who might be injured. Or worse, if there were dead bodies who needed to be transported back to their homes and loved ones.

Rowan fought back the urge to roar with fury. His skin felt like it was going to burst, and his heart threatened to launch out of his chest any second.

All he could keep imagining was her mangled corpse and the sickening knowledge that he’d been too late to save her. Suddenly, the sight of the head rolling beneath his blade morphed into Oriana’s face staring back at him, lifeless from the red dirt, and he gripped his swords so tight his knuckles popped under the strain.

Having a small army did nothing if he didn’t fucking know where to begin looking for her. She could be anywhere. Might be held somewhere, tortured and suffering. She might be—

Suddenly, the dark cloud of the entity lurking in the sky above them began to shift and morph and intensify. Shit. Rowan realised they were all out in the open. Exposed as fuck and at the mercy of that thing if it decided to strike.

He’d barely swung round and started to move back towards the others when a sharp popping noise pierced the air around them. It knocked each of them down like a pressure wave as it collided with their bodies. Some landed on their hands and knees, while others were able to shield themselves hunched over.

Dirt and sand and violent darkness swept towards them like the front edge of a storm, and when it cleared, what was left in its wake was a sea of grey-skinned creatures. Snatchers and other grotesque beasts. All with unseeing eyes, clammy skin, and long talons instead of fingers.

Amongst them stood two figures. One had a crown on her head, coated in splatters of dried blood. Dressed in a dark gown and cloak that shimmered like the shards of the entity he’d seen kill Saskia, then attack both him and his brother that day.

Beside her… was Oriana.

Rowan’s fury billowed over with a snarl, mixed with relief that she was in front of his eyes. All he needed to do was dispatch this hoard of monsters in his path, which he’d gladly do with ease.

From this distance, he couldn’t tell if she was unharmed, but at least she was standing upright. That didn’t mean there wasn’t some kind of dark magic at play. It also didn’t guarantee that her mind remained in one piece.

A tightness balled up in his chest at the thought of her brilliance being ripped away from her. To never be able to hear her laugh or threaten him with her smart mouth again.

Rowan surged forward. Ignoring the shouts behind him, he pointed his sword at the sorceress. Then stopped dead.

Fiadh.

“Fuck me. It is her.” Niall’s voice sounded distant and echo-like beside him. He could hear Lachie swearing under his breath. There was a low rumble from Fehrn’s wolf as it paced around their flanks.

“It has been a long time, brothers.” A voice he hardly recognised called out across the distance between them. Her army of creatures inched forward, all snarling and scraping at the ground as if barely being held back from launching their own attack.

Fiadh had once been kind and sweet and brilliant. His memories of his sister were of a young girl who loved running through rolling meadows and finding butterflies hidden amongst midsummer flowers. That was before she withdrew into herself more and more when none of them knew the extent to which she was being groomed. Then came the moment they all thought they’d lost her, when her Ampher magic had exploded with uncontrolled anger and power that no one had seen for eons.

Two centuries had passed since that fateful moment.

They’d all dealt with what they long presumed was her death in their own ways.

Now, here she stood before them in the flesh. Exuding the kind of terrifying magic that made any dark witches from the House of Elharean look pathetic in comparison.

“As much as I have imagined the day I’d see your faces again, there’s only one Nocturne I am interested in.” She clenched a fist, and Oriana’s body contorted in agony. She let out a silent scream, and Rowan nearly lost it.

“You’re dead, Fiadh.” He roared. Swinging his wrist, he was ready to start hacking his way forward immediately. It was only Ruby’s hand on his arm that stopped him from carving a path to her.

“Rowan, stop. Whatever magic your sister has right now, it must be similar to what Belle is experiencing. It is darker than anything we’ve ever encountered before, and it could do more damage than you know.”

He glared down at her. Detesting the fact the fae was right. Fiadh could slaughter Oriana in less than a heartbeat with the kind of power she was wielding.

“Give us Oriana.” Rowan bristled. Calculating exactly how many of these grey-skinned monsters he’d need to dispatch before he could grab hold of his woman. Thirty-two if he took the direct line through the heart of them. At least eighty if he worked around the edge of their gathered force.

Didn’t matter. Either way, he’d slaughter all of them before leaving here today.

Chapter 37

“Your choice. Give me Brigid, or the girl dies.”

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