Page 57 of Keldori By Daybreak

“No, no, it’s not like that!” Orla rushed to step between us. “The Frozen God is actually Wren’s grandmother!”

A silver sword lengthened in Iseult’s hand, and Orla backpedaled into me to avoid its extending tip.

“Wren is a Saergrim?” Tiernan had looked at me in many different ways over the last few months. Usually with disdain, sometimes apathy, but never like he was looking at me now. Never with fear.

“That’s what you meant when you said the Grimguard works for you,” Iseult said. “Ferrin may be a liar, but you are too. You’ve lied to us about your identity all summer.”

“I didn’t know!” I looked between them over Orla’s shoulder. “I only wanted to save Orla and Fana, and now my grandma is at the center of a storm to keep Ferrin out of Keldori until we can reseal her and close the Rift. That’s why we need you, Iseult. We need you to help us put her back in the ice.”

Iseult frowned but kept her blade extended.

“You don’t have to come with us,” Ciarán said behind me. I turned to see Una crouching low so he could slump over her shoulders. “But we can’t stay here. Ferrin will have soldiers out looking for us, and once night falls, he might send more rotsbane our way. So at least come with us for now. We’ll talk once we’re safe. We won’t stop you if you want to leave.”

The silver light of Iseult’s sword pulsed with her wavering resolve.

“And me?” Tiernan asked.

“We need a Lyrian, not you,” Ciarán deadpanned. “So feel free to stay here.”

“No!” Fana whipped around to look at Tiernan. “No, you have to come with us.”

Tiernan’s rocky exterior gave way to an exhausted bow of his head. “Of course, my Lady.”

Orla shot the Second Sentinel a nervous glance.

“Is there room on the onchú?” she asked. “I’m not sure Tiernan’s fit to walk on his own.”

Una huffed at Tiernan, and he limped back a half-step.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted.

“Get on the onchú, Eldguard,” Ciarán snapped.

Tiernan marched resolutely forward, as if to show us all he was perfectly capable of traveling on foot, but his ankle buckled just as he passed Una.

Iseult looped her arm under Tiernan’s to help him onto Una’s back behind Ciarán. While neither of them looked thrilled about the arrangement, Una didn’t seem bothered by the extra weight and took off down the shore at a jaunty pace.

“Wren.” Orla reached for my arm. Dirt clung to her skin, and bags weighed heavy on her eyes, but she otherwise seemed physically okay. “Wren, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“I do. You attacked Ciarán,” I said simply, following the others down the shore.

“I didn’t attack him.” She let go of me to walk backwards at my side, keeping her gaze lifted to the peak of the Second Sentinel.

“You threw a flame ball at him and let the rotsbane loose! It nearly ripped him in half!”

“I just—” Orla’s face screwed up. “Ferrin was—I don’t know.”

“About to die?”

“Yeah.”

“Because Ciarán was going to kill him.”

“Yeah.”

“Which I told him to do.” I silently dared her to yell at me for ordering the death of her uncle, but instead she shrugged dolefully. “Why did you come back up the stairs with Ciarán?”

“To help you.”