leather breeches, a vest, and a sword at her side. The cherry on the top of this outfit was the crow perched on her shoulder.
“Who is that?” She looked like some badass character from a mortal video game.
“Morgan and Culann.”
I’d been so distracted by the woman, I hadn’t taken much note of Culann. Something about her drew my gaze and I couldn’t look away. She, on the other hand, had no trouble ignoring me and everyone else who stared at them. She and Culann were an impressive pair.
Gulp.
Have a little faith. Flynn’s voice had me studying the room to find him. I located him with Killian, who was thumbing through a book, seemingly unaware of the collective breath-holding in the room.
Morgan led Culann to an empty space, one with targets and humanesque forms set at different distances.
A selection of weapons were displayed nearby, and I waited for Culann to choose one and begin hacking, slicing, stabbing, or otherwise disassembling the targets.
He didn’t.
Instead, he stared at them. Distantly, I registered a roar, like the wind had picked up around the castle. Next to me, Ronan stiffened. Flynn. His voice held a warning for his younger brother.
On it. I forced myself to look away from Culann to Flynn and Killian, noting that Flynn had taken to standing at his brother’s back. Killian, though...he was in his own world.
Pressure built in my ears, growing until I thought my eardrums would burst. It hurt, and even Ronan was wincing. Then, like a bubble, it popped. One after another, the targets in Culann’s practice space exploded.
And he hadn’t moved a muscle.
From the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of movement.
Killian.
During the confusion, he’d faced Culann. He stood now—tall, regal, cold—and regarded his competition with no expression.
He wasn’t the only one who was watching the man. Every other person in the room appeared transfixed by the display of Culann’s power they’d witnessed.
And all of them looked like they needed to change their pants.
One person—however—who stood in a practice space near Killian, wearing a half grin, seemed amused by the whole thing. Is that who I think it is?
Anlon. Killian’s voice was hard. Our cousin.
Flynn
I watched Killian stand up to Culann, proud but also concerned. The massive red-haired warrior had just taken his assertion of dominance to a new level. He was in this to win it, and he wasn’t afraid to let everyone know it.
It was a tactic I might have taken as well in his position. He already knew he had the best—likely only—chance against me and my brothers. And any of the competitors who weren’t fully committed to the tournament had to be rethinking entering at all. I wouldn’t be surprised if the roster was down by half by tomorrow.
Noticing that Killian’s attention had shifted to Anlon, I witnessed the man’s infuriating grin and stiffened. Stalking toward our cousin, I pasted a grin of my own on my face. “What do you think, cousin? Have you made your decision? Ready to take on the great Culann of Uladh?”
“I have. And, yes, I will enter.” He waved his hand dismissively. “That was nothing but a bit of showmanship. I’m not worried at all.”
I allowed my eyes to roam over his attire, which was more suited for a royal ball than training. “It must be nice to have such confidence. I haven’t seen you in here practicing once.”
Anlon merely shrugged. "We've already lost one competitor. Surely you heard about the competitor who decided to harness an each-uisge by the shore? It drowned him. And then it ate him. I don't need to practice when fools like that are here."
Well, that accounted for Imogen’s lament. I winced. The water horses at the shore were beautiful but deadly. I wouldn’t want to meet my end that way.
Maybe I shouldn’t have egged Anlon on, but there was something more suspicious than usual about his behavior. He’d always been a smug son of a bitch, but I’d never known him to be delusional. And thinking he could waltz into the tournament and take down all of these competitors without a lick of preparation was more than a little unrealistic.
“Besides,” he added, grin still in place. “I’ve been training privately. I just like to stop by now and then to get a good look at the so-called competition.”
At that, I laughed. Apparently, I’d been wrong—he was delusional. Slapping him on the back harder than necessary, I said, “I wish you the best of luck, then.”
Making my way back to