Page 5 of The Sacred and the Tormented

Saoirse clenched her fists and watched from a nearby hill as her mother played with the village younglings. Two of whom never left her side. Kaylee, the young half-breed female who had tended to Eimear while she was imprisoned, and Wylan, the young male who also possessed the ability to see into the future—and their past.

A dozen others circled Eimear, bringing her flowers and handmade offerings. Eimear laughed at their jokes and all the things younglings so innocently told adults.

Eimear claimed it was a special sort of magic to experience life all over again through the eyes of a child.

Saoirse sighed and lowered her head into her hands, rubbing her tired eyes. She’d barely had three hours of sleep over the last two days. She needed rest. And a drink.

Footsteps crunched in the grass, and Saoirse glanced over her shoulder to find the last person she expected to see.

Zylah walked up the slope, her gaze directed toward Eimear and the younglings.

Zylah’s attention over the last few weeks wasn’t lost on her. It made Saoirse’s heart race with hope, no matter how slight. Zylah claimed to hate the royal family for everything they’d done, or rather hadn’t done. That hatred should haveextended to Eimear, but for some reason, it didn’t—not if the meals and medicines were any indication.

Zylah settled down beside Saoirse but kept her distance. A youngling screamed in delight as they chased another and Eimear clapped her hands in encouragement. Saoirse had missed her mother’s smile above all else.

“Today is a good day.”

Saoirse only nodded. Itwasa good day. She’d shared a decent breakfast with her mother and Rion. They’d talked about the ways Nàdair had changed over nearly a century and the many things that remained the same. Then they’d discussed their experiences and all the things Eimear had missed. Her mother’s eyes had misted, but she’d urged them to continue. She wanted to know everything about her children, down to the smallest detail.

Saoirse supposed she should be thankful that her mother’s memories were intact. At least Niall hadn’t been able to destroy those. So long as Eimear was calm, like today, she would remember everything they told her. Saoirse just wished she could figure out what changed from day to day to make some better than others.

Eimear had a smile on her face now, but Saoirse knew the darkness wasn’t far off. Her mother would revert back to her fearful state soon and Saoirse would likely spend another night watching over her.

“Here.” Zylah extended a small bag and Saoirse took it, peering inside to find a few unlabeled vials. “It’ll help you both sleep tonight.”

Saoirse thought about making a lewd comment regarding what else might help her sleep, but she didn’t have the energy for it.

“Thank you,” Saoirse said, setting the bag down between them. “But I can’t take it. I need to watch her.”

“You’ll both sleep like the dead. Gods know you need it.”

I need you,she wanted to say, but didn’t. Not physically, but mentally. Saoirse craved Zylah’s presence like one craved water in a desert.

“And I can’t just drug my mother.”

“Ask her while she’s lucid. I’m certain she won’t say no.”

“And I’m certain she can hear you.” Saoirse thought she saw her mother smile, though Eimear didn’t turn. She wondered if her mother already suspected what Zylah was. Or perhaps her abilities had already told her, iron or no.

“I can stay tonight. If you like.”

Saoirse straightened and turned to look at Zylah. The female was entirely serious. “I thought you hated the Fae from Brónach.”

Zylah turned away again, her jaw working. “She’s suffered far more than anyone should.”

Saoirse flexed her fingers, itching to reach out and rest them on Zylah’s hand. Anything to convince the female to stay once this was all over.

“I have a condition.”

“If you’re going to make some comment about—”

“I want to train you.”

Zylah sighed. “I’ve told you already, I’m training with the other half-breeds.”

“Then I’ll train them too.” She’d worked with Zylah once, before everyone had marched on Ruadhán, but since then the female had declined further training.

Zylah arched a brow. “You’ll train half-breeds? That’s not beneath you?”

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