Page 11 of Keldori By Daybreak

“No.” Ciarán studied the tracks in the snow and then stared through the trees in the direction the men had come. “We go back to Sorcha and Aoife.”

“But the Saergrim—”

“The Saergrim isn’t going to be bothered by a few dozen ill-prepared men from Breachriver. They won’t be able to get through the storm any better than Ferrin or Tamora.” He turned to watch Orla help pull me from the bushes. “Besides, the Sovereigns aren’t safe out here. We should return.”

“Fine. Take them back to Sorcha. I don’t need your help.”

“Sabrina.” Ciarán’s gentle warning seemed to set her on edge further.

Her curls flew around her face as she whirled to face him with fists aflame. “This is our home! Or have you been running across the continent playing savior too long to remember that?”

“A troupe of dead men in the woods will only bring the wrong kind of attention to the area.” Ciarán beckoned for Orla and me to follow him across the clearing in the direction of Sorcha’s hovel.

“Daithi would do it.”

Ciarán stopped but kept his back to Sabrina. “Daithi is dead. Just because you stepped up to take my cousin’s place as a Grimguard doesn’t mean you need to do the same stupid things he used to do.”

Sabrina’s fires flashed as her temper flared. “You dare—”

“Sabrina,” I said. Sabrina spun to face me, fires still blazing. Orla’s steadying grip on my arm tightened. “Stop.”

Her eyes widened at my apparent nerve. “Stay out of this, Keldorian.”

“You have to obey me, don’t you?” I asked. “You’re a Grimguard, but I’m a Saergrim, so I’m technically in charge.”

Her nostrils flared beneath her cowl. We’d almost been friends in Keldori until an ill-timed panic attack ruined that possibility. She was looking at me the same way she had then, with apathetic loathing.

“You don’t know anything about us,” Sabrina finally hissed. “You don’t know anything about our people, our land, or what’s at stake.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it? Because you still answer to me. And if Ciarán says we go back to Sorcha and Aoife, then that’s what we’ll do. All of us.”

Sabrina’s lips pressed together, and I braced for her to shoot more of her orange magick at me.

However, she flicked her arm and her crossbow collapsed back into her bracer. She gave me a stiff bow of the head and trudged passed me in the direction of the hideout.

“As you wish, Saergrim,” she grunted.

I leaned against Orla, but Ciarán appeared on my other side.

“I’ve got her,” he insisted. Orla cast me an uncertain glance.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Go see if you can calm Sabrina down. She seems to like you more than she does anyone else.”

“Only because she feels bad about shooting me.” Orla walked ahead but placed a hand over her ribs where Sabrina’s arrow had pierced straight through her lung just a few short weeks ago.

“I had Sabrina handled.” Ciarán’s words reeked of a reprimand, and I rolled my eyes.

“Clearly.”

“You don’t need to undermine me.”

“I think what you mean to say is ‘Wow, thank you, my Lady, for solving the problem at hand and stopping my friend from murdering several dozen men in the forest. Thank Skal you were here’. Or whatever.”

“You told me not to call you ‘my Lady’, and ‘Thank Skal’ isn’t a thing.”

“I will throw you off this mountain. Do not tempt me.”

“With your broken ribs and half-assed flails? I’m absolutely quivering, my Lady.”