Page 62 of Keldori By Daybreak

“He threw them off the mountain, towards the Frozen God.”

The hissing of the Skal streaming down the walls echoed louder in the silence that followed.

“Then I’m sorry too, because when I kill your uncle, it will not be quick. It will not be painless. I will draw it out as long as I can, and I will make him beg for death.”

Orla curled her fists in her lap and looked down at her knees.

“I understand.”

“And if you get in my way again, I will kill you too, even if we can’t reseal the Rift without you.”

“I won’t get in your way,” she insisted.

“I would like to be alone now, Lady Quill,” Ciarán murmured.

Orla nodded and hurried to her feet and towards the door. She kept her head down, avoiding my attempt to meet her eye.

I stood there, unsure of what to do, for several, long moments.

“You too, Blue.”

“Ciarán—” I tried to start, but he spared me having to find the right words to say.

“Please.”

I nodded too, though he couldn’t see me, and hurried to follow Orla. The heavy oaken door creaked shut behind me, and I stood in the warm steam of the antechamber trying to determine if Ciarán’s soft cries were echoing through our mental link or through the walls of the Keep of Realta Fiel.

The upper floors of the Keep revealed empty rooms, copper pipes that hummed with moving liquid, and no nesting animals. Iseult had discovered the Keep’s bath house in the basement, and while running water heated by the mountain’s thermal energy sounded amazing, I remembered the lack of modesty held in Skalterra when it came to bathing. I excused myself to one of the empty rooms upstairs, away from my naked friends and the grieving Grimguard.

Jonquil padded after me, chasing the shadows cast by the bottle of Skal I used to light the room. The moss that clung to the stone walls and hung from the copper ceiling pipes carried its own faint glow that made the space feel a little more welcoming, and I laid out my backpack and cloak to sleep on.

This floor of the Keep lacked the heavy steam of the entry room, but it was still warm enough that I wiggled out of Liam’s old Von Leer hoodie and balled it under my head for extra comfort. Ciarán’s thoughts and emotions continued to play at the corners of my mind, but he’d regained control over them, so they remained amorphous and unknowable despite their presence in my head.

“You and me,” I sighed at Jonquil when she curled next to me and allowed me to scratch between her ears. “Sharing a room again. You don’t have to stay here, you know.”

The ghost of a purr rattled from the depths of her long fur, and I smiled. Perhaps she just liked that I had Liam’s hoodie—she’d always preferred him—or maybe the cat was growing to like me after all.

And then Jonquil stood up and padded away, leaving me to glare at the dark ceiling.

“Hello, Jonquil.”

I startled at Ciarán’s soft murmur and tried to sit up, but he held a finger to his lips as he carried in his pack and cloak. Una huffed where she lay in the corridor outside, and her eyes tracked Ciarán’s path from the door to the stone floor beside me.

“What are you doing here?” I turned away when he dropped his cloak to reveal his bare chest. “And where is your shirt?”

“I’m getting ready to sleep, just like you. And my shirt is hanging to dry. I washed the blood out.” He lowered himself to the floor next to me, and Jonquil trotted to make herself comfortable in the crook of his elbow. The glow of his eyes played against the edges of her fur, and her purring resumed, louder now that her favorite human had arrived.

“You’re sleeping here?” I asked.

“I can sleep in the corridor if you prefer.”

“Oh. No, that’s okay.”

He’d just been sobbing over the charred remains of his decapitated parents. It would be cruel to make him sleep in the hall, which I knew he would do instead of finding his own room.

I lay back down, watching Ciarán. He pulled his cloak over himself like a blanket and stared up at the ceiling, his finger tapping against a glass bottle that he held at his side. By the light of the glowing moss, it appeared Ciarán had replaced the Skal he typically carried in the bottle with something dark and flakey.

I gulped, thinking of his parents.