weighed as much as me.
But what should have been an advantage wasn’t any longer. The two had been fighting so long, Culann began to flag. His movements were less precise. He hacked and jabbed with his sword, rather than choosing moves that would allow him to conserve his energy.
Flynn was just as tired, if the sweat marring his back and face was any indication. But he still moved lightly on his feet, skirting past the wide sweeps of Culann’s blade.
Culann brought his sword over his head and chopped downward, like he was splitting a log in two. Flynn jumped, avoiding the blow, and the sword hit the ground so hard a clang rang through the arena. Culann winced, forearms rippling as he struggled to lift it again.
Flynn acted fast. He kicked at Culann’s arms, and the giant, unintentionally, released his grip.
The fight was over and Culann knew it.
He stood, shoulders heaving, and stared at Flynn. Bowing his head, he gave one quick nod then lifted his gaze to the prince who’d just defeated him. “The battle is yours,” he said, magically projecting his voice.
My stomach clenched. Culann stood there, tall and strong and proud. He had fought zealously, but not with the strategy, or heart, that Flynn had. The prince held his sword ready, but instead of ending the warrior, he rested the tip in the dirt.
“You fought harder than any Folk.” Flynn gave a half smile, revealing a little of the cheek I’d missed during this serious time. “And you should live to fight for them.”
The cheers of the crowd became deafening as Flynn held out his hand and Culann took it, shaking it heartily.
I looked back to the loch just in time to watch Morgan push herself to her feet and face Killian and Ronan. She was now angled slightly toward me, and I had no trouble making out the ugly scowl on the face I’d once thought beautiful.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” she spat.
“Maybe not.” Killian kept his voice calm and his stance confident. “But we know what you’ve done.”
“Oh,” she said with a laugh. “And what is it that you think you know?”
You, Morgan Tauroc, murdered our father. In addition to the faint sound of Killian’s voice from thirty plus feet away, I heard it clearly in my head. What was happening?
You framed Imogen Eveningsong for his death, and you’ve slowly been driving me to the same insanity for weeks.
A noticeable hush fell over the amphitheater, and I twisted my head in that direction. Every single spectator appeared frozen, now looking our way.
Holy smartypants. Ronan must be telepathically projecting the conversation to everyone in the amphitheater. Perhaps even every person in the kingdom.
How was that possible?
He shot me a smug grin, as though he knew exactly what I was thinking.
The only thing I don’t know is how you accomplished it. Only an extremely powerful creature could wield that kind of dark magic without getting caught. Killian’s lips turned up in a satisfied smile. Well, until now.
A creepy laugh burst out of her. You don’t know anything, you entitled, insignificant weakling of a prince. I am The Morrígan, the most powerful creature in this land and any other. I not only framed your precious little banshee and killed a Folk prisoner to force her to wail while collared, I helped her escape in order to distract you and sent her back to prison when she got in my way.
All it would take is a snap of my fingers to lure her back here and slit her throat. Payment for the death of my pet, I think.
Ronan took a step forward, but he stopped when Killian spoke. You’ll never get close to Imogen, in this lifetime or any other.
Oh? She laughed again. And who do you think is going to stop me? I already drove the king to take his own life and intend to do the same to you and your brothers. Culann may have lost the tournament, but I’ll find a way to become queen of Tuatha with or without him.
So, that was your plan? Killian asked. You did all of this to be the wife of the king?
Her slim shoulders stiffened. Culann was merely a means to an end. He wasn’t smart enough to figure out I was using him, and as king, he would have succumbed to insanity much quicker than either you or your father.
I guess I should be happy he lost. Now I don’t have to listen to his simple-minded