Page 4 of Their War

I simply shrugged. “As long as you've kept your word and they're safe, that's all I care about.”

“Don't threaten me, child. You won't be in this protected situation for much longer. The next Queen will be selected, and we will both ensure that you get what is coming to you.”

I smirked. “Good luck with that. I don't plan on making it that easy on you.”

“You have no power here. You rely on the fact that you were Chosen, but that prestige won't last much longer, and then you'll be revealed as exactly what you are. An insignificant piece of excrement that should have never been selected. You’re a disgrace to all of fae kind, and I'll take pleasure in ensuring you learn your place once again, underneath my boot as I step on your neck.”

Tired of playing this game with her, I simply shrugged off her threats as if they were nothing. Deep down, I did worry about what she was capable of, but I'd be dead before I showed that to her.

Satisfied that her threat had hit home, or so she thought, she smiled smugly. “The guards will escort you to where the other Chosen are gathering.”

She turned to walk away, pausing after a couple of steps to look over her shoulder at me. “And Rhowyn? I'd watch my back if I were you.” Her eyes sparkled as if a plan was in play to ensure I failed. For the first time in this entire interaction, I felt a trickle of fear.

Chapter Three: Arryn

The familiar sensation of Brannoc's magic surrounded me as he transported us just outside Cashel Rí’s walls. His magic was strong, but carrying so many of us was too much, and he stumbled as soon as we landed. Throwing an arm around him to catch him, I supported his weight as the others adjusted to the shock. Not many fae could claim experience with a Raven's method of transporting since it was considered deeply personal among them. It was only my history with Brannoc that allowed me any knowledge of the sensation at all.

“What the fuck was that?” Callum growled, his hands clenched into fists as he seethed.

“Rhowyn!” Baer cried out and tried to run back onto the grounds through one of the gates, but Callum's arm kept him from getting far.

“We can't go back in there,” I stated firmly. “We'll only endanger Rhowyn more.”

“Why didn't you grab Rhowyn, too?” Lennox accused Brannoc.

He lifted his head with a concentrated effort, his exhaustion taking hold. “I barely carried you four along with me. Besides, it's what she asked of me.”

“Seriously?” Baer asked. “And you listened to her? It's not her job to protect us. That's our job. What is she going to do now? She needs our help.” He thrust a hand through his hair, tugging on it in his desperation.

“What's done is done. We need to get moving, or it will all have been for nothing,” I told them, knowing we needed to put distance between us and the Queen's Guard. They’d be following shortly, searching for us within a matter of minutes.

“Could you be any colder? I thought you cared. Now you're just ready to abandon Rhowyn after she saved your ass?” Baer accused, sweeping me up in a wave of guilt. I knew he’d grown close to Rhowyn, had a connection that none of us shared, but just because I didn’t show it like he did, didn’t mean that I wasn’t just as devastated. However, now was not the time to dwell on that. I needed to focus on what we could do from here. Someone had to be the voice of reason, to keep us all safe so Rhowyn’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

I opened my mouth to tell them that we needed to move quickly, but Lennox snapped out, “What did my mother mean by you being a traitor?”

“Now's not the time. My men will be coming for us soon, and we need to put distance between us and them,” I barked, knowing they weren't necessarily going to like the truth when I finally told them.

“Rhowyn's going to be fine. The Queen can't execute a Chosen. She'll be allowed to finish the trials, which means we need to get somewhere safe so we can work out how to get her out of there,” Brannoc said softly, stopping any protests that the others tried to raise.

“That doesn't mean she can't get hurt or tortured. We need to go get her. Now,” Baer argued, his pain at having left Rhowyn bleeding into his eyes.

“They're right. There's nothing we can do now. We need to regroup, or we'll only make the situation worse,” Callum pointed out, finally joining the debate. His words seemed to be the final nail in their arguments, Baer and Lennox deflating as they faced the reality of the situation. We needed a plan. Running off half-cocked would only make matters worse.

“Fine, but as soon as we can, we are going after her. I won't leave her there at the mercy of that bitch. There's no telling what she'll do,” Baer capitulated, stomping off without a response.

“Baer,” I called out, causing him to stop. “We need to go this way.” He rolled his eyes but turned to follow me.

“Callum, help Brannoc so I can make sure the way is clear for us.” I passed Brannoc off to him and strode down the rough and muddy road that snaked through the lower income part of the village that supported the castle. The Queen’s wealth didn’t extend outside of her walls, and none of the nobles deigned to make any improvements outside of their own compounds, leaving the villagers to fight over the scraps of gold and silver they could obtain by any means necessary.

Other fae and some humans passed by us, simply going about their days and ignoring us completely, more focused on their tasks as we walked as fast as we dared. Any faster and we’d draw attention to ourselves. Thankfully, our clothes, which were normally finer than anyone in this area could ever dream of owning, were covered in dust and dirt from our travels since we hadn’t had the chance to change after our return from the second trial.

Spotting the building I was looking for, a ramshackle tavern that had seen better days, I skirted us around to the back, opening the door. “In here.”

All of us shuffled into the small stock room of the tavern. “Oi! Who's back there?” a deep male voice shouted, followed a moment later by a large man who gave Callum a run for his money in size. This man sported a long, scraggly beard and a pot belly, his clothes soiled and stained from grease and ale.

“Gerard, it's me, Arryn. We need a place to stay for a bit.”

“Arryn? Well, why didn't you say something.” He pulled me into a crushing bear hug, patting my back roughly. “It's good to see you boy, it's been too long,” he said when he finally pulled back to eye me.

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