Page 96 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“You don’t know that, and you know there are worse fates. You still have some life left in you.” Oisin bares his teeth. “Cling to it.”

I try to shake away my lethargy, only half succeeding. “Very well. Do you believe we can trust Veles?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“You are the one who has been with the court these past decades. You will have a better measure of him than me.”

Oisin taps his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Yes,” he says finally. “I believe so. He took the crowns and did not wear them. I saw the way Aodhan tried to pressure him into handing one over. He did not submit.”

“Good. Once we have found them, we need to speak with the Guardians. I will try to contact them in the morning, too. Veles should join us. Zomo, too. If we cannot find another person who can wear the crowns in time, then our people need another option.”

“Our people?”

I lean forward, fixing him with a stare. “Are they not? They put us on those thrones as their rulers, which means we are to protect them. They do not know what is coming.”

“What about your brother?”

“Iagan?”

“Yes.”

I shake my head. “After everything… I am not convinced any of the three of us should truly bear one of these crowns. Regardless, he likely will not return.”

“Will he help us cross?”

“Perhaps. He may fight it. I fear I have never truly known where his allegiances lie either.”

Oisin’s lips twitch. “Has anyone?” he asks, and I cannot help my answering smile.

A noise reaches me from the hall. Aodhan? Surely, he would not be so careless, but I did not ask Oisin if he injured him, and he might be unable to move as stealthily. Across from me, Oisin gets to his feet. His fingers twitch by his side as he slowly approaches the door.

Another footstep. And then… voices. Whispering. I frown. That is not Aodhan; he would not be so careless, and besides, he came alone. He and the witch would not be conferring in the corridor before they leapt in to kill us.

Oisin approaches the door, but before he can reach it, it flings open, the wards fluttering as magic pushes against them.

Grant sticks his head inside and grins. “Miss us?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dante

The way back to the castle takes hours, though it’s definitely a faster journey than the way we took there. The fae who helped us sneak away from the cell—Tormod—loads us onto a rickety wagon, whispering that we should keep low, then shifts into the biggest Shire horse I’ve ever seen.

I don’t think they usually run as fast as this one either.

We cling to the wagon sides as he gallops through fields and valleys and up hills that I’m sure should slow him down but seem to cause no trouble at all. Grant turns green and groans, pushing his head between his knees. Ophelia swears every time her hip bangs against the wagon’s side.

I’m not feeling great either, but some of the uncomfortable feeling fades the closer we get to the castle. Is it Lark’s and my bond? I know that happens with wolves sometimes. My magic was being drained, though, and I don’t know if that’s stopped.

Tormod slows as we get close. Some way from the town, he stops and transforms back into a more humanoid form.

Grant leaps down first, taking a few steps on wobbly legs, and then reaches up to help Ophelia down. I lever myself up from my position lying on the wagon floor, and Tormod helps me. His hand is rougher than I expect. When I have my feet on the ground, he peers into my face. “Oh,” he murmurs. “It is taking you, too.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” I reply. Not like there’s anything I can do. I’ve had enough time to think about it on the way here, and now we’re inching closer to daybreak.

“Are you going to be okay?” Grant asks Tormod as we move away from the wagon. “You could come with us.”

Tormod’s eyes go wide. “No! No. I will return to the others.”