The crease between my brows deepens. “Meaning?”
Mam’s grey eyes hold mine. “We can ensure you’re ready for each task without directly explaining what they involve. After you pass the first one, they’ll explain the next two. Unfortunately, you are the last of this generation to turn eighteen, which means you are at a disadvantage to the others.”
“How so?”
Mam sighs before looking towards my dad, silently encouraging him to continue. “The second task is a group trial for all initiates. Once the final initiate—you—completes the strength trial, the syndicate will move forward with the second, leaving you very little time to prepare.”
“Why is it called the strength trial, besides the obvious reason?”
“The syndicate has four values: strength, respect, loyalty, and the crown that binds them together. They designed the three trials to serve the fourth, and each one is loosely based on those characteristics.”
I swallow a breath. The nervous energy flicking through me makes my stomach queasy. My gaze falls to the floor as anxiety rattles my core. How the hell am I supposed to pass these trials? I barely made it through ten days in Killybegs—nearing death twice.
“Soar.” My mam’s concern echoes through the room. “Look at me, honey.”
My chin tilts, and I straighten my spine. I can do this. I am Saoirse Ryan. Killybegs belongs to my family. “How soon after my birthday do my trials begin?”
“The following Monday,” Lorcan drops his eyes to the floor.
Panic creeps in. My birthday is this Thursday, meaning I have just over a week to prepare. The galloping in my chest quickens, thundering so loud it echoes in my eardrums, and my blood boils, prickling my skin. “How am I supposed to win this fight? All the other initiates have been training their whole lives for this moment. I, however, have not.”
At this, my mam pushes from the sofa and begins pacing back and forth while fidgeting with her hands and cracking her knuckles.
“You are more prepared than you think. You’ve spent your life fighting, Saoirse. Maybe not physically, but in here.” Lorcan taps his temple with his pointer finger. “Liam is the best fighter Killybegs has ever seen, yet once he stepped into that ring with Rohan, all bets were off. Wanna know why?”
It’s a rhetorical question, but I lean back and fold my arms across my chest. “Sure. Enlighten me.”
“The strength trial is a battle of wills. A mind game if you will. Sure, there are physical aspects, but if you can use your head, you can dominate your opponent. Fighting is more mental than most assume. If you let your mind lead, you can anticipate every move the opposition will make. One good manoeuvre could seal your win, but it needs perfect execution.”
Finally, after my parents share a silent conversation with nothing but their eyes, Lorcan averts his gaze towards me. “Liam and Beibhinn have offered to help you train. You’ve got nine days to learn everything you need about Hannah Crowe—her strengths, weaknesses, hopes, and fears are all pieces you need to defeat her. From what I’ve seen, she’s a good fighter, but she’s not great. With the right moves, I’ve zero doubt you can take her. If you want to, that is.”
Confusion weighs down my brow, crinkling my eyes into narrow slits. “What do you mean by ‘if I want’? I thought the trials were compulsory.”
“They are,” Mam confirms, rounding the couch until she’s standing behind my dad. “But your dad and I have talked, and if you don’t want to be part of this life, we will make sure you aren’t.”
I see it in her eyes, the same look she had every time we moved to a new town without a second’s notice.
“You mean I run?”
“Yes. Gabriel wants the throne and won’t stop until he wipes every Ryan heir from existence. You either beat him at his own game, or hide and pray to God he doesn’t find you.”
“So, those are my only options? Either run for the rest of my life or reclaim the Ryan seat and remove Gabriel from the throne.”
I prop my elbows on my knees, mirroring Lorcan. My heavy-lidded eyes tighten at the corners, knowing the decision I need to make.
A rush of adrenaline floods my veins, but the thoughts in my head give way to crippling fear. I want to do this, but what if I can’t? If I don’t complete these trials, then what? Will I condemn myself to a life like my mother’s, always running and never allowing myself to live or be truly happy?
Before I make my decision, I need to know everything—the real reason Éanna Ryan ran and, more importantly, why she stayed away. “Why didn’t you complete your trials?”
Her jaw clamps tight, and she rounds the couch before dropping to her hunkers before me. “I had to wait for the other initiates to turn eighteen, so I was almost four months pregnant by the time my second trial came around. Nobody knew about you, and I had planned to keep it that way until your dad and I could find a solution to us being together without the syndicate interfering. We are both original families, and any relationship between us would be forbidden. Anyway”—she swallows, eyes closing briefly as she finds the right words—“that evening, about an hour before the start time, Gabriel and his cronies cornered me as I got to my car.”
My heart rattles against my rib cage as I watch a tear slip from her eye. Finally, she pushes to her feet, rounding the coffee table and taking a seat next to Lorcan. His arm circles around her waist, pulling her into his side. His mouth drops to her ear, but his words are low, too quiet for me to decipher.
It’s a strange feeling to see them together, my mam a vulnerable mess, finding safety in his arms. The love between them is clear with the breath my mam releases before gazing up at him with tear-stained cheeks and a woeful smile. He’s her calm, the safe place she needs to land.
A few seconds pass, and then she continues, “Gabriel stuck his hand up my skirt, and it wasn’t until I felt the cold metal of the barrel through my underwear that I realised he had a gun. I was so scared, for me, but most of all, for the little life I had growing inside me. He threatened to shoot me…” Her voice trails off, cracking with emotion. “He told me to get in his car, or he’d blow a hole right through my—”
Lorcan pulls her closer, cupping the back of her head with his tattooed hands. “I have you, dove. Nothing’s gonna hurt you.”