going to say—no, thank you; I’d rather go back to NP? Not a chance.
“It’s for the best. I promise.” He squeezed my arm gently before stepping back. “Killian is going to place a glamour on you so we can get the hell out of here before more sluaghs show up. Or something worse.”
A glamour...that was the spell Killian had intended to hit me with. Now, I really felt like a fool.
Standing to my full height, I nodded. “I’m ready.”
Chills rippled down my body as his magic covered me. It was difficult to stand under his intense gaze, but I made myself do it. This was just about hiding me. Killian wasn’t examining me because he wanted to look at me. Just the opposite, actually. He didn’t want anyone to guess my identity, so he was erasing all the characteristics that made me, me.
Once I looked like just another guard, Ronan opened a portal that took us to the castle gates. Much like Nightmare Penitentiary, the castle was warded to prohibit certain types of magic. Portals into the castle had been outlawed centuries ago, after a powerful mage used one to enter the king’s bedroom and slay him in his sleep. Even the princes were forced to enter their home on foot.
“Act natural,” Killian directed as the guard at the gate waved us through. “If anyone speaks to you, grunt in response.”
So, you want me to act like Ronan? I mentally retorted.
Flynn laughed, and I froze as Ronan’s voice sounded in my head. Forget about our connection spell already, little one?
Crap on a cracker. I should have known better than to telecast my thoughts like that. But with everything that had happened in the last hour, their telepathic powers weren’t even on my radar.
Killian briefly pressed a hand to my back. Keep moving.
Ignoring all three of them, I straightened my back and put all of my concentration into walking. Even before the sluagh attack, I’d been weak. Now, I was barely able to lift one foot in front of the other. All I wanted to do was lie down and sleep for the next three days.
The princes were quiet as they led me through the castle. I didn’t know where we were going, and I didn’t particularly care. The dungeons couldn’t be any worse than my home for the past year.
The sound of clashing magic soaked into my consciousness, and I paused before a window. In the distance, I observed no less than twenty warriors gathered, watching a battle between two men.
Killian stopped by my side. “They’re training for the King’s Tournament.”
“Inside the castle grounds?” These men—and possibly a few women—would fight the princes for the crown. What gave them the right to practice here?
“It’s tradition.”
Tradition, of course. We Fair Folk were sticklers when it came to our customs. Probably because so many of us lived for centuries.
“Shouldn’t you three be training as well?”
“Yes, which is why we need to get you settled.” He pressed a hand to my back once again, urging me forward.
But I only made it one step before crumpling to the ground. All of my strength was gone, and as fervently as I tried to get to my feet, I couldn’t.
“Shit.” Flynn knelt down beside me. “We should have healed you before leaving the forest.”
“I’m okay,” I lied as I pushed up to my knees. “Just need a minute.”
He wiped at fresh blood trickling down my forehead from where the sluaghs had caught me with their vicious talons. “You’re not okay.” Looking up at his brothers, he said, “We need to get her into bed. Ronan, your quarters are the closest.”
Ronan grunted, and if I’d had the energy, I would have laughed. “Fine. But only temporarily.” Then, the biggest of the brothers scooped me up in his arms and started walking. “No one better see me carrying a damn guard.”
At that, I did chuckle, trying to picture the scene we currently made. Maybe Killian should have made me look like a chambermaid, instead.
Find that funny? Ronan asked in my head.
Absolutely.
He shook his head, but I detected a hint of amusement in his deep blue eyes.
Nestled in his warm embrace, I allowed my eyes to close. Even though this was Ronan, and I was fairly certain he still hated me, I felt safe for the first time in too long. In his arms, I could forget all about prison and that detested collar and even the fact that he’d held a sword to my throat mere days ago.