She found a comfort in the fact that they were rebelling, even if it was in a quiet way. The people of this village seemed so deeply content with the status quo, but perhaps that was because Torin hadn’t really touched them yet. Things were changing. Bronwyn just had to find a way to live long enough to see it happen.
She tried to focus on the heat that threatened to take over her body. It needed to be in her hands, not low in her gut.
Arik turned back around and had a foot on the first step of the stairs. Bron began to follow. There was nothing else to do. The corridor was narrow and didn’t lend itself to fighting. But if she could start a fire, maybe she could run.
Bron heard Theo shuffling behind her. He gave a soft grunt, and then there was a hand on her elbow. She turned and looked into Niall’s brown eyes. He held a finger to his lips, an obvious request for silence. Theo was on the floor, his body in a crumpled mass. Bron checked her gasp.
Niall held a blade in his hand, the knife slick with blood. Theo’s blood.
The enormity of it grasped her. Niall was killing to protect her. Did she want that responsibility? Did she have a choice? The choices she would make if she pursued this path hit her squarely in the gut as Arik moved up the stairs and Niall stalked him.
Bron clung to the side of the wall, her eyes moving between Theo’s body and Niall’s arm as he reared back. The burning sensation hadn’t gone away. What in all the planes was happening to her? She had to think.
She made the decision. There would be no going back. There would be blood and death, and she could not shrink from it. She would eat the guilt because that’s what it meant to be a leader.
Niall slit his throat, the knife moving in utter silence. He held Arik against his body, his arm around Arik’s shoulders in an odd approximation of intimacy. Niall brought the larger man to the ground. He never had a chance to shout or say a word.
Her protector eased him to the floor and held the blade at his side. “Your Highness, I need you to trust me.”
“Gillian told you. Gillian trusts you.”
His face contorted in confusion. “Gillian? No. Gillian knows who sent me. I talked to her yesterday. I knew she wasn’t your sister so I figured she had to be the Unseelie princess who went missing.”
Bron stared at him for a minute. “Who sent you? Who told you my name?”
Niall’s eyes were on the stairs above. “You have to play your part, Your Highness. We don’t have another way out. Just take a deep breath and follow my lead.”
He took her elbow and started to lead her up the stone steps. But she had a few questions. If she was going to be the center of this revolution, she was going to start playing the part.
“If Gillian didn’t send you, who did?” Bron could feel the sweat on her brow, the ache in her gut. But it wasn’t her gut. Not really. It was lower, deeper—an ache with only one cure.
Niall stopped on the second stair. They were still so close to the bodies, but it didn’t seem to bother Niall. He simply stared at her for a moment as though trying to decide how much she could handle. “You don’t remember me. Niall Younger. My father was the stableman. He took care of the horses for the White Palace. I worked with him. I took care of your pony.”
Her mind raced, and she saw a young man, only three or four years older than she. Brown hair and bark-colored eyes, and a soft hand with the horses. His father had taught her to ride.
“I remember you. You had a brother named Liam.”
His face turned down. “Liam and me dad died long ago. I was left alone in the palace, but I found a friend. A shade. A sluagh. He taught me how to live, gave me information on where to find food and who would protect me. He sent me to the cook who raised me. I was only fifteen. The cook gave me a place to stay, and the sluagh gave me a purpose. He taught me how to fight, how to be a guard. He whispered to me who to get in good with so I would have my choice of assignments. And he gave me my reason to live. To find Bronwyn Finn. To locate his daughter.”
Bron felt locked in place, the whole world spinning. Her father? “My father can’t be a sluagh. He would never.”
It was beyond comprehension.
“He had no other choice. When the light came, he didn’t walk into it. He couldn’t because he had work to do. His children still needed him. He stayed for you. He molded me into his emissary. As far as I know, only Torin and myself have ever seen him. He’s not haunting anyone but his brother. He had a different use for me.”
“My father turned sluagh, and he knows I’m alive?” It didn’t add up in her head.
“He saw the Unseelie princess make her way out of the palace with you. He would have followed, but he was weak at the time. He was tied to the place of his death. He still is for some reason. When the other sluagh left the plane, he wasn’t able to move p
ast the caves. He’s bound to Torin now. He can only go where Torin goes. So he trained me to find you. I’ve been moving up in the guard, and I’ve served ten different noblemen, all the while looking for you. I knew I had finally found you a couple of days back, but I wasn’t sure how to get you out of here. Now I don’t have a choice. Gillian is talking to the villagers. She’s trying to find a way to get you off the plane.” He stared at her for a moment. “That is not what your father wants.”
“What does my father want?” Her father had ignored her with the exception of pats on the head and telling her she was pretty and a little insane. What could her father want for her to do?
Niall took her by the arm. “Lead them. Take your crown back. Your brothers are gone, and it seems they will not be coming back. You’re his blood. That crown is yours. I am going to take you north to Sir Giles’s province and then on to Aoibhneas.”
The mountain province. She hadn’t been to Aoibhneas. It was difficult to get to and rumored to be an odd place. The Fae who lived there had always been outspoken and considered a bit difficult. They were strong fighters and used the land to their advantage. Aoibhneas. She could make her stand there. The rebellion could start there.
She could gather Fae along the way. Yes, it could work, or even if it didn’t, at least she would have tried. At least she could say she had finally stood up. If she could only get her legs to work.