and Culann would fight to the death—or until one of them yielded.
And Flynn would never yield.
My feet pounded against the wood then kicked up dust when I hit the dirt.
The loch was right ahead of me, dark waters gleaming in the sunlight. Birds and insects chirped, uncaring that Tuatha’s future balanced on a knife’s edge.
A flash of movement caught my eye, and that rock of anxiety that had been in my chest since before my father’s death suddenly crumbled.
There she was. Morgan Tauruoc stood, barefoot, on the edge of the loch, one hand braced on a heavy-limbed oak as she stared unseeing at the arena.
Got her, I silently said to Ronan and Imogen, projecting my view to them.
I slowed, regulating my breathing and more carefully placing my feet on the path so as not to alert Morgan to my presence. I would have only one chance at surprise.
At my belt, I wore my father’s knife, which I’d taken when he’d started acting strange.
He was so gone by that point, he hadn’t even noticed. But, when I was a boy, he had shown me the finely crafted dagger and told me it would be mine one day. Mine when I was king.
I would not be king. But I would use this to ensure my brother was.
I lifted it, took aim, and flung it toward the woman.
It flashed in the sunlight, reflecting as it flew end-over-end toward Morgan. The light must have caught her eye, and she turned. The knife grazed her arm instead of landing as I had intended—deep in her heart.
But it did distract her, because she never saw the portal open behind her.
Imogen
As soon as Killian projected Morgan’s location, Ronan moved faster than should have been possible. He opened two portals, telling me to hide as he gently pushed me through one before stepping through the other.
Mine positioned me beside a large oak tree, a good thirty feet from where he approached Morgan from behind, his hands outstretched. Her focus was entirely on Killian, who faced her, his expression determined.
I wanted to yell at him to move, to run, to do anything other than continue to stand there. Ronan had told me that Killian’s magic was limited, which meant there was no way he could defend himself against the sorceress. Or whatever the heck she was.
Just as she raised an arm, Ronan shoved so much magic at Morgan, I could see it slam into her. Her arm froze mid-air, and he walked around her, inspecting her like she was an insect he intended to squash. “That’s better.”
She cackled, clearly still able to speak despite the magical shield keeping her in place. “You think your silly little spell will hold me?”
“It seems to be doing a fine job right now.”
“You don’t know who—” Mid-sentence, she shrieked so shrilly, I winced.
What the...?
“Look,” Killian shouted, pointing toward the amphitheater.
I spun, only now remembering the battle still transpiring in the distance. Except, Culann and Flynn no longer faced each other. They’d raised their swords as Morgan’s crow dove at Flynn’s head.
He clipped it, and as the injured bird flapped its wings, attempting to escape, Culann swung his sword at its head, taking it clean off.
Son of a harpy. Culann—Morgan’s so-called champion—had killed her malevolent crow.
She screamed even louder. Her enraged cry was so deafening, I ducked, covering my ears with my hands. The magical shield surrounding her shattered into millions of shimmery pieces, and she fell to the ground, as though in pain. Ronan threw another spell at her, magically forcing her hands to her back, restraining them.
Remaining hidden behind the tree, I returned my attention to Flynn and Culann. They were fighting again, though both men appeared to be tiring, their movements more sluggish than they’d been earlier.
Come on, Flynn, I thought as he shifted out of his opponent’s reach just to hurtle forward, jabbing him in the arm. While Culann was stronger, Flynn was clearly faster. It was easy to see now that he was no longer being tortured by the crow.
You can do this. I know you can.
I’ll do it for you, Genny.
At the sound of Flynn’s voice in my head, I startled. I hadn’t meant for him to hear my thoughts. But as I watched him fight with renewed energy and control, I had no doubt my faith in him had helped.
Culann had the advantage of size against Flynn and had chosen a heavy broadsword as his weapon. The steel was half the length of the warrior and likely