Phelan groaned as he sat up. Someone had moved him away from the death that lingered on the cliffs. He could still see them. He could still smell the metallic stench of blood.

  Kyl sat a few feet away while Ianna bandaged a cut on his arm. Her own arm was bandaged, making her movements stiff. Tears mottled her cheeks.

  It took Phelan a moment to remember her mother was the one who tried to kill her sister. If Phelan hadn’t stepped in the way, she would have succeeded. Then Edana had shot fire out of Nuada’s sword and struck her mother.

  Fire. From a sword.

  It was one thing hearing legends of the Sword of Victory and another to see the legends were true. And now, Edana controlled it.

  Edana. His head whipped around. He didn’t see her. Frantic, Phelan surged to his feet. He swayed before regaining his balance. He felt strong. Too strong. His body was thrumming with sensation.

  Everything was somehow stronger--amplified. The brightness of the sun. The wind as it breathed through the blades of grass and leaves on the trees. Insects and animals moving about, their hearts beating as they did. Everything that surrounded him pulsed with life. And he was connected to it. He could hear and feel it all.

  On the periphery of his new awareness, one heart beat louder than the others. Edana, even in sleep, was strong.

  “Why is she in the cave?” he asked no one in particular.

  Ianna and Kyl looked as if they wanted to question how he knew this, but Fal answered first. “The sword is strongest in the cave. Nauda first conjured it there. Because she’s now connected to the sword, she can draw strength from the cave as well.

  “But she’s alright? She wasn’t hurt?”

  Ianna stood up and crossed to him. Her green eyes were sad and glistened with unshed tears. “You saved her. Our mother--” her voice broke. “Our mother tried to kill her, and you saved her.” Ianna gave him a one armed hug, awkward because of her bandaged arm.

  Phelan hadn’t dealt with a lot of affection and gratitude during his life, but he could sense, whether by intuition or with his newfound abilities, that she needed to give it. He hugged her back gently. “I’m sorry about your mother. Is she alright?”

  “She’s alive. But she killed you. Only for a short time, but she still killed you.”

  “No matter what she did, she’s still your mother.”

  Ianna released her hold on him and stepped back, wiping tears away as she did. “Thank you,” she said again.

  When Kyl stepped forward, Phelan raised his hands, palm out, to ward him off. “If you’re thinking about hugging me too, please reconsider.”

  Kyl grinned. He had a dark bruise forming along his jawline. I’ll try to restrain myself.”

  Phelan’s lips quirked up and he shook Kyl’s outstretched hand.

  “This is all very touching, children,” Fal interrupted, “but there’s still work to do. Loyal soldiers are gathered in the north, awaiting command from the royal family, namely Edana. I believe Alain can show you where and fill you in on what to expect when you get there. After that, the real battle begins. Morfram is sailing for Tara as we speak. In three sennights’ time, you’ll be fighting for the fate of Eire.”

  Phelan processed this quickly. They had twenty-one days to get their army to Tara. “Where’s Alain? And my father? Has he been found?”

  “Alain is burning your dead. Your father was taken back to Tara.”

  Phelan could tell by Fal’s tone that something wasn’t quite right. “Is he hurt?”

  Fal shook his head. “He’s unharmed.”

  “So he’ll meet us in the north?”

  “He’ll be there soon enough.”

  Phelan nodded his thanks. “Gather what horses and supplies you can,” he told Kyl. Find Alain and let him know we’ll be leaving within the hour. Walk with me,” he told his grandfather. The two set out toward the cliffs and Edana.

  “What didn’t you wish to say in front of them?” Fal asked.

  “How’s she doing? Really? I can tell something’s not right.”

  “Nuada’s sword is a powerful weapon. She’s the first to yield it since Nuada himself. He imbued it with his own essence. He wanted the sword to be able to respond to him of its own volition.”

  “What does that mean?” Phelan didn’t think he was going to like this.

  “The sword feeds on emotion. The stronger the emotion, the stronger the sword reacts to that emotion. When you were stabbed, Edana struck out with her own strength and emotion. And because you lent her your own strength, when she was in the cave, she lashed out with your emotions as well.”

  His grandfather might as well be speaking another language, Phelan thought. “I still don’t understand.”

  “When you give your strength--physical strength--to another, you create a link, like a pathway between you. It remains separate from her own--much like a backup reservoir that she can tap into when necessary. That pathway is very difficult to close under normal circumstances. More difficult when you consider that the two of you are already connected.”

  “So what does that mean? Our strength is linked?”

  Fal shook his head. “Look at your wrist.”

  Phelan pulled up his right sleeve to see the inside of his wrist. He’d been born with the mark of a wolf on his skin. Now, over it, very faintly, he could see the word Teine etched. The same marking that was burned into Edana’s skin.

  “When she used the sword, her emotions were unusually strong. She shattered the barrier separating your strength from hers. Your mind and your thoughts are still your own, but when you were dying and her own strength began to wane, she felt everything you did.” He paused to let this sink in. “From now on, if you are hurt, she will feel its echo in her own body. The same is true if she is hurt.”

  Phelan thought of the coldness of his powers settling over him and the pain as his flesh knit back together over his wound. “There’s got to be a way to break the link.”

  Fal indicated his wrist again, as if the marking said all Phelan needed to know. “There’s none. Though there is one good thing to consider,” he said cheerfully. “Because you heal quickly, so will she now.”

  “Yea, that’s just great,” Phelan bit out sarcastically. They were about to fight a war, and now he had to worry that if he were hurt in the fighting, she would feel the sting of the blow. The same if she were hurt. This would be considered awful under normal circumstances. But now? If they were distracted at the wrong moment, they could be killed. “Did you know about this?”

  Fal smiled. “I knew you would be linked. The means of linking was unknown to me. Though if I’d known it would be this drastic,” he admitted ruefully, “I might have intervened. I knew you’d weaken yourself for her and she for you, and that your powers would be unlocked. Not that Bidelia would try to kill Edana when she did and not how Edana would react. With the way the two of you argue like children, she very well could have thanked her mother for saving her from having to do it herself.”

  Phelan would ignore that. “You knew Bidelia would try to kill Edana at some point? Will she try again?”

  “Look and see. You know how it works.”

  Phelan sighed. One of the abilities he’d inherited from his grandfather--and likely his grandmother as well--was that of foretelling. If he focused hard enough on one particular person, he could catch glimpses into their lives. Often he would see their death, which was why he avoided using this gift unless absolutely necessary. There were times though when the visions came upon him unwanted.

  One of the benefits of serving as King’s Champion was the traveling. He was never around any one person for very long--save Alain. Also, this was one of the reasons his father and grandmother couldn’t be demonstrative in their affections for him. Though in his father’s case, Phelan suspected it had more to do with the knowledge that he had known beforehand of his mother’s death, yet hadn’t been able to stop it.

  Phelan closed his eyes and thought of Edana. Her raven hair. Her bold blue eyes. Her strength. Even their new connection.

  When nothing came, he focused harder, though how he could when his mind was so full of her, he didn’t know.

  Nothing. He began to panic.

  His eyes popped open. “It’s blank. She’s not dead. I can feel her. What’s going on?”

  Fal regarded him for a moment before throwing his head back and loosing a musical burst of laughter. “Just one more thing I hadn’t anticipated. This proves that even gods aren’t infallible. You’d think it would annoy me,” he mused. “I don’t think I’ve ever been surprised before. Most likely the link is responsible for this. You can’t see her future, just as you can’t see your own,” he said as his laughter died down.

  Phelan frowned. There were positives and negatives to this. On one hand, he wouldn’t have to worry about seeing her future when he didn’t want to. On the other though, he couldn’t see her future if he needed to.

  “You don’t look happy,” Fal commented.

  Phelan met his eyes. “I’m not sure if I am. You just keep piling more and more on.”

  “I wouldn’t give you anything you couldn’t handle,” Fal said, his expression sincere. “As for Edana, look at it as a gift. You can have a real friend for once. She knows all your secrets. About your father. About me. She knows her father chose you over her, and despite what she said when you first met, she hasn’t tried to kill you yet.”

  Phelan snorted. The man had a point. He’d never been allowed to get too close to anyone because of his family’s secrets. Not to mention his powers. Edana knew though. So did Kyl and Ianna, for that matter. But Edana was part of it now, somehow inside his powers. “I haven’t told her of her betrothal,” he murmured. That was the biggest secret left to tell, and one Edana would likely hate him for.

  “Yes. That will be a bit of a problem,” Fal mused. “I have some ideas though. How do you plan to tell her?”

  How was he going to tell her? ‘Hey, Edana, your father wanted you to marry Prince Arwin of Wales, and I’m the one who arranged it.’ Not likely.

  They were at war with the next best thing she had to an uncle. Her mother had just tried to kill her. To top it all off, she was linked to a demigod. He didn’t want to have to tell her about the betrothal unless he found a way around the agreement he’d been forced to make on her father’s behalf that she would have to marry a stranger and leave her home when it was all over.

  There was no good time to say something like that. Especially since he had feelings for her himself. If he’d known that he would, or that he could, he would have asked Cian for her hand for himself. But his grandfather had always warned him that any relationship between the two of them would be unwise.

  “This is your fault,” Phelan accused.

  Fal nodded, as if reading his thoughts. “The timing wasn’t right before.” He laid a hand on Phelan’s shoulder. He squeezed reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I’ll fix it.”

  With that, he was gone.

  Phelan shook his head. His life was already complicated enough.

  When he entered the cave, he saw that a torch had been lit to keep the darkness at bay. Edana sat with her back to the stalagmite that had once encased the sword. The sword in question lay across her lap.

  Her head was tilted back and her eyes closed. Dark smudges beneath her eyes bespoke of her exhaustion.

  When Phelan sat down next to her so that they were hip to hip, Edana’s eyes blinked open. “How do you feel?” he asked her.

  “My mother tried to kill me. She admitted to killing my father. I have a fun new sword that shoots fire that I don’t even know how to control, and my body feels like it’s on fire. Congratulations on your new powers by the way.”

  “I think you meant to say thank you.”

  Edana snorted and closed her eyes again. “That was my way of saying it. I’d be a little more grateful if I didn’t feel like death.”

  “It’s got to be better than actually being dead.”

  Edana’s lips twitched. “You’ve got a point there.” She turned her head to look up at him. “How do you feel?”

  “Pretty good actually. Did Fal tell you the deal?”

  “If one of us gets hurt, the other feels it. Not exactly a good thing with everything else that’s going on. And my initiation into it was pretty damn awful.”

  “Yea, but you got a fun new sword that shoots fire,” Phelan said, tongue in cheek. “Focus on that.”

  Edana’s laugh bubbled out. “True. Did you see it?”

  “I may have been dying, but I couldn’t really miss that.”

  “Is she dead?” Edana asked quietly. “I didn’t even check. Didn’t even think to ask. I didn’t even think at all. I just saw red,” she admitted. “It just--” she lifted her hands to demonstrate. “Just rose up and flew out of me. I don’t think I could have stopped it.”

  “She’s alive.” Phelan closed his eyes and tried to search for her with his mind. “She’s singed a bit. Very angry.”

  “Got any other fun abilities up your sleeve? We might be needing them pretty soon.”

  “I haven’t had time to test anything out. Fal said we have a three sennights before we meet up with Morfram again. That gives me a little time to test things out. Flex my new muscles. And speaking of sleeves.” He lifted her arm and turned it so he could see the inside of her wrist. There was a faint impression of a wolf’s head over her brand.

  “I didn’t notice that before.”

  “Just another reminder that we’re stuck with each other.” He smiled at her.

  She returned it. “We’ll have to meet with the troops in Ulaid as soon as possible. You can flex those muscles on the way.”

  “And you can test out your new weapon. Why Ulaid though?”

  “Fal said the soldiers went north. Ulaid’s the only logical choice for them to gather. It’s close enough to Tara to reach in a few days.”

  “Makes sense. Kyl and Alain are gathering supplies. We’ll leave whenever you’re ready.”

  Edana held out her other hand. “Help me up. I want to talk to my mother first.”

  Phelan stood and dragged her up with him. She was battered, her clothes were torn and bloody, but she stood strong. Even though things hadn’t gone as they’d hoped, for the first time, Phelan thought they could win this. No matter what Morfram threw at them, they would stand strong.

  CHAPTER 31--MORFRAM

  They failed him. Everyone--Bidelia, Aral, Ianna, these men. They all failed him.

  Everything had gone wrong from the start.

  Morfram paced the rolling deck of the ship, Goke. It was a triple-masted vessel complete with black sails and dark planking, ideal for night raids. One of the benefits of the Goke was its maneuverability. It relied on sails and oars unlike standard galley-style ships that relied on sails alone. One of the reasons Morfram had been able to survive the crashing waves at Moher was that the Goke’s captain was able to get to him quickly. If not for the oars, he would likely be dead by now.

  Morfram once considered himself lucky to find these men, Ottomans, known as Barbary pirates. All they had to do was follow his orders. His instructions weren’t that difficult. If they wanted to receive their payment, they’d better do exactly as he said from now on. Although, he admitted to himself, since their payment had been stolen out of his office, he would need to get into the treasury at Tara before the captain and his men questioned him.

  The captain of this vessel, Camali, was one of the more blood-thirsty he’d come into contact with. His large frame and dark-skin paired with eyes that appeared as dark as the sails of his ship added another element of menace.

  The rest of his men, just as dark and physically imposing as Camali, went about their duties confidently. A few stopped to glare at Morfram as he passed.

  He wasn’t impressed.

  If these men had been more competent, Edana and her little friends would be dead. He would have the sword, and even now be proclaiming himself King. It was their fault that things had gone wrong.

  Morfram never considered that he’d been the one responsible. His plan had been flawless. Everything had been in place for months. Then Edana had ruined everything. Would she never die? Eighteen years of planning had been destroyed in an instant.

  The sword had protected her in the cave. Morfram didn’t understand why. It belonged to him. If anyone deserved to wield the Sword of Victory, the greatest weapon of the gods, he should be the one. From the first moment he heard of Nuada’s sword, he’d known it was meant for him. The problem had been that he’d needed Edana to get it for him. He’d never expected her to be able to use it against him.

  Morfram’s eyes kindled at the thought. She ruined everything. The bitch needed to die. She would die, he vowed. As soon as he could get back to Tara and get his worthless mercenaries gathered, he would march his army down her throat.

  “Sir,” a rumbling voice said.

  Morfram turned to see Camali approaching.

  “We’ll reach the port of Duiblinn in three days. I’ve deployed skiffs carrying the message to the nearest ships. We’ll debark there.”

  Morfram regarded the man. His dark, steely eyes were unblinking. “Good. When we get to Tara, I have a special job for you.”

  He remained silent, waiting for his task.

  “You’ve heard of the Wolf of Eire?”

  Camali smiled, revealing one gold-plated tooth.

  “I want him dead.”

  “It will be done,” he rumbled.

  When he walked away, Morfram turned back to look at the sea. Perhaps this one time, things would progress according to plan.

  Ianna would die first. His own blood had refused to stand with him. Loyalty was important to him. He conveniently ignored the fact that he had turned on his King and then abandoned Bidelia to his enemy. No, she’d refused to stand with him so she would have to pay for her mistake.

  Edana would be driven mad at the sight of her dear sister’s body. Then, he would kill Phelan. The Wolf.

  Morfram scoffed. Cian had managed to keep one secret from him. Good for him, but it changed nothing. No matter how skilled rumor claimed the Wolf to be, Morfram wouldn’t let him win. He wouldn’t need the sword for this. Camali would serve as his assassin in this case.

 

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