“We have to convince them. They need to understand what’s going on out there.” Siobhan nods her head in assent, but her eyes have a faraway look that tells me she doesn’t want to be the one in the fray.
“Master Murtagh needs to send a battalion back to Dublin to flush out the Hunters,” I insist. “And we need to go back with them. No one knows Dublin like we do.”
Siobhan stares at her plate.
“You’re not going back with me, are you Siobhan?” I ask.
“Of course. Of course, I am,” she says without looking up, slowly chewing her food.
3
It’s not more than ten minutes later before the maid comes back, opening the door without knocking.
“The Masters-” she says.
“The Masters?” Siobhan asks. “I thought this place only had one master.”
“There is Master Quinn, the Murtagh,” says the maid. “And then there is Master Riordan, who will be the Murtagh one day. And there is Master Fenton.”
“Great three masters to deal with,” I mutter.
“Dear me, no, the Master Quinn is the only master,” she smiles. “I’m simply doing you a favor by letting you know the ranking of the people who you’re going to see.”
“Thanks, we appreciate your help,” Siobhan says to the maid.
I roll my eyes. “I thought you hated this place,” I hiss.
“Look, you’re not going to get anything if you walk in everywhere like a raging bull,” Siobhan says. “You’ve got to do it in the way they want it done. Say your please and thank you.”
Her manners were always better than mine. I sigh.
I trail my fingers along the wooden banister as we walk down the staircase and I reach out to the walls as we go by. There’s something here. I have no idea, but they can still hide the castle. Castle Brannach obviously exists, yet Siobhan could not see it.
We’re taken into what I can only describe as a receiving room. At first glance it seemed a throne room, except we’re not allowed to have thrones. Thrones are only allowed for the leaders of the Muirderkrings. Our Muirderkring is led by Lord Van Arend, the eagle, and it’s based in California of all ridiculous places. How the hell the Irish Ravensgaard ended up with a liege lord on the other side of the world, I’ll never know. I mean, I know the technicalities of it. I didn’t sleep my way through tutoring. But it’s more why we put up with it.
We used to have a queen.
Or the rights to a queen at least, but that was a long, long time ago. Back before the Vikings, the Berzerken, were attacking us. It seems like we should’ve handled them. The big lumbering bears are stupid. We may be smaller, but we have things they’ll never understand; agility, speed and intelligence and, the way this castle is hidden, we have magic.
But when we swore fealty to the Eagles we lost the title, we hid our magic until it was forgotten, and I think we pretty much lost our intelligence.
Riordan stands behind the high-backed wooden chair that’s only barely not a throne. Eagles must not come here much, because I bet that chair in this room would be illegal. It’s made of dark wood, tall, shiny, and polished to perfection. The arms are carved like men’s arms with upheld hands and ebony ravens poised to take flight from the open palms, beaks open in silent screech. The back of the chair splays out like giant wings. Almost as if they were coming out of the back of the man who sits in the chair.
Siobhan sidles closer to me and she mutters, “This is Master Murtagh. The usurper of the castle.”
But you would never say that to his face. He has been sitting on this chair for more than a quarter of a century.
We all bow to his grace and leadership. His face is cruel and his body huge. He has black hair and a face like a square block. He is like a thundercloud, massive and about to explode.
Siobhan’s fingers slip into mine. As much as I want to glance at her to make sure she’s okay, I don’t. We are Ravensgaard. I do move a little closer to her so they can’t see she’s holding my hand. We are the warriors of Dublin. There’s no reason for us to be afraid of Master Murtagh. He is our leader.
To the side of Master Murtagh stands a startling handsome boy with fiery red hair. He must be Murtagh’s other son. He looks quite like his brother, except his face is softer, lips fuller and eyes larger. Neither one of them looks like their father, so they must resemble their mother. They all wear black turtlenecks, the father in black slacks, his sons more casual in black jeans.
There’s nobody to introduce us, so we step forward.
“Greetings, Master Murtagh.” Siobhan’s polite words remind me I need him on my side. Even though I don’t think that should be the case, he should want vengeance as much as I do.
“Father, these are the girls who came to us from Dublin,” Riordan says. “Davin, Siobhan, this is my father Master Murtagh, and my brother Fintan.”
Fintan nods his head slightly in my direction but his eyes stay completely on Siobhan.
“Tell us what happened, then,” Master Murtagh’s voice thunders in the hall. I don’t even think he’s trying to speak loudly, I think it’s just what comes out when he opens his mouth.
“They slaughtered them all,” I say. I can’t stop my skin from burning up. I’m sure they’ll find out the truth, but I’m not about to tell them it was our fault.
“I want to know every detail,” Master Murtagh says. His boys nod solemnly. “I lost warriors. Warriors who cannot simply be replaced.”
I glance at Siobhan but clearly, she’s not going to say anything. Although she’s let go of my hand, she’s staring down at her toes. So, I tell him how we had gone out to scout at the concert and how we were trying to infiltrate the Alliance. How we met those two and then went home. Then I tell them about the attack in the night, but there isn’t much to tell. There were no screams. Ravensgaard don’t scream. There was blood and blades and death.
My gaze stays fixed on Master Murtagh as I tell him all this because I know what his response is going to be. It’s going to be exactly like mine.
“You led them to your home,” he says.
I don’t flinch away. Even though my guts tighten and my throat clenches and I don’t know how I’m going to take my next breath.
“I want to join the retaliation forces,” I say.
Master Murtagh coughs. It’s a deep, gravelly cough that leads out of his lungs and sounds ragged, wet, and choking. His red-haired son Fintan hits his back a few times as Master Murtagh’s face turns red and drops of spittle collect around his mouth.
“What’s wrong with him?” Siobhan whispers anxiously, but I elbow her quiet. This hall may be big, but that just means it’ll carry our voices more.
Riordan comes toward us stepping between us and his father. “Come,” he says. “I’ll show you around.”
I glance over at his father, who seems to be getting his breath under control, but now he’s wheezing and chest rattling.
“I think I’d like to lie down, instead,” Siobhan says. “Is that all right?”
“Of course,” Riordan says. “Would you like an escort to your room?”
“Our room is in Dublin.” My heart tightens.
I notice a light crease lining Siobhan’s forehead. “No, no thank you, I think I know where I’m going.”
Riordan smiles and it reaches his eyes, strangely lifting my mood.
“I used to get lost down here all the time when I was a wee lad,” he says. We’re out of the great hall now and walking down the massive hallway with tons of dark halls leading off in all directions. I feel like a rat caught up in a maze wondering how I’m going to get out.
“I can imagine,” Siobhan says.
I roll my eyes. “I’m sure you were trying to get lost half the time too,” I murmur.
Riordan’s rich laughter fills the hall. “It’s through those doors you’ll see the stairs.” He points the way for Siobhan, who gives a slight curtsey before leaving.
We turn down one of the small dark hallways that smells
of stone dust as if it’s rarely used. How many people must they need to keep a place like this clean? What a waste of Ravensgaard talent. They should let it sink into dirt.
“When will we be able to go back?” I ask.
“Go back?”
“To Dublin. To retaliate against the Alliance. We were so close to finding their stronghold.”
“I don’t know, Davin,” he says. “But I understand.”
He reaches out and his fingers touch my forearm. I glance down and wonder at the flittering of confusion moving inside me. “They left you alive for a reason,” he says. “What my father is worried about is that you may have led them here.”
My heart clenches behind my ribs and falls into my stomach. “No,” I murmur. “They couldn’t have followed us.”
“We don’t really know what they’re capable of,” he says.
“We flew here. They couldn’t have followed us.” I repeat.
“It’s okay, Davin,” he says. “You’re here now. We’ll protect you.”
I stop in my tracks, my hand going to the hilt of my scian. “I don’t need your protection. I want your help. With or without you I will go after the Alliance.”
“I know you will,” Riordan says. “And I’ll support you, but for now, let me show you around Castle Brannach. I can introduce you to the Ravensgaard in a way you’ve never seen. I know you’ve had a tough life up there in Dublin–”
“I haven’t had a tough life,” I protest. “It was a great life there. You all live here in Castle Brannach protected by magic, but the minute your magic fails and the glamour falls the Hunters will find you. We have to go back to Dublin and wipe them out or else they will come here and destroy the Ravensgaard stronghold.”
Riordan laughs.
I bare my teeth at him. “Stop,” I say.
“I’m sorry.” He says it instantly, the laughter and smile slide off his angular face. “It’s just so hard to believe! Look at this place! A few stupid Hunters will never infiltrate these walls and destroy the entire Ravensgaard. We’re untouchable.”
“Arrogance is the flaw of the devil,” I sigh and shake my head. How will I make these spoiled Ravensgaard understand?
“Nothing’s going to happen today. Let’s go to the stables,” Riordan says, pushing open the door to step out into the light. The stable looks as if it’s a small manor house in the same style as Castle Brannach, black with twisting spires reaching into the gray sky. I raise my eyebrows.
“That’s for the animals to live in?” I ask. It’s ridiculous. But I don’t say that because I need him to act on my behalf with Master Murtagh. There’s no point pissing him off. They’re our hosts. What a waste of resources to house some horses.
“Where did you live before you went to Dublin?” Riordan asks me.
“I’ve always lived in Dublin,” I say. What I mean is, for as long as I can remember, but there’s no need to tell him. There’s no need for him to know much about me, even if I have much to tell. I have no idea who my parents are. The clan in Dublin was the only family I ever had. And now they’re gone. It’s as if whatever thin shell I had around my heart has cracked and is falling away and underneath it is a raw muscle that I don’t know how to use.
I lost everything except for Siobhan.
“When will your father send a team up to Dublin?” I can’t get the thought out of my head. I’ve been praised for my persistence before, but the tension in my voice isn’t welcome, I’m sure.
“Soon,” Riordan tilts his head toward me. “But if those Hunters just wiped out your clan, it can’t be safe and we’ll need some time to strategize.”
“We can’t all live in a glamoured fortress,” I say. It might do them well to have a point of focus for an attack. Get the cobwebs out of this army.
4
The glowering overcast sky starts to let loose the rain as we approach the stables. We jog the last few yards to get under the awning.
“What must have been like to grow up here, where just the stable is three times the size of a house?”
“It wasn’t as nice as you might think,” Riordan says.
I clap my hands over my mouth. Crap! I didn’t mean to say that out loud. What is wrong with me that I can’t control my mouth?
“There was a lot of distrust and confusion when my father took over,” Riordan says, unlatching the door and pushing it into the dark interior of the stables.
“But I thought it was a boon for the Ravensgaard when you took over,” I say. “At least that’s what I was told.”
“Yes, and it was,” Riordan says. “The Grand Dame, Lady Oonagh, who was running the place into the ground had no stomach for warfare. She didn’t understand how things had to be done to keep the Ravensgaard prominent. She was always focused on sitting in her dungeon and playing with things. It was a relief to everybody when she died.”
“Playing with things?” I ask.
“People say she was a dabbler,” Riordan says.
“You mean a dabbler in the arts?” I asked. “In magic?”
“Yes,” Riordan says. “But it wasn’t all bad. You see, it’s her magic that keeps this castle ahead.”
“Even now after she’s dead?” I wonder. “I’ve never really completely believed in magic, although I know it exists. Otherwise how else could we shift into animals? But the type of magic that can do this… I thought it died out when the caster die.”
“Apparently not,” Riordan says as he moves to the first stall.
“What the hell is that?” I ask staring at the humongous red animal sitting at the back of the stall it’s eyes bold and brown and deep looking back at me.
Riordan laughs, “What? You lot don’t have horses up in Dublin then?”
“The bobbies ride them on their rounds,” I say. “But they don’t look like that. That thing isn’t a horse, it’s an elephant.”
Riordan’s looking at me, his head cocked to one side and a crooked smile on his face. Don’t know exactly what the smile is about. But there is something gentle and soft and kind in his black eyes.
It makes me think of Keith, Siobhan’s brother. Riordan cares. Keith cared. I press my lips together and massage my shoulder with cold fingers.
“So what do you use it for?” I ask.
He returns his focus to the monstrosity in the stall.
“Maggie?” He blows a quick breath out through his lips, sounding a bit like a horse. It almost brings a smile to my face. “We don’t do anything but feed the old nag. We’ve had her ever since I can remember. She’s probably almost as old as me. She’ll die any day now, but apparently, my father will keep her. She’s the descendant of the descendant of the descendant of somebody’s massive war horse back in the day. Her blood is something that’s belonged to the Ravensgaard forever.”
“Does she have any children?”
His laughter is full and rich and fills the dusty barn. “Children?” He laughs “You really are from the city, aren’t you?”
If I had any more energy, or interest, I’d roll my eyes. “Baby horses,” I say, my voice stale. He’s lucky I’m even having a conversation with him. I don’t know what the hell all this farm stuff is about. Even so, I’m digging in my brain trying to find the word I’m looking for. The mare sniffs my hands as I pet her nose. Her lips turn up and stretch out, all muscle and black. She reaches forward to see if I have anything in my hand. I pull back. “There’s nothing here but fingers,” I murmur.
“Foals,” Riordan says with a smile. “The boys are colts, and the girls are fillies.”
“Thanks for the animal husbandry lesson.” I try to keep the biting tone out of my tongue. My goal is to win him over to help influence his father. It’s not to piss him off and push them away. Not at all.
I take a deep breath. I can’t get a smile on my face, but half of it turns up in a quirk as I turned to him. “So did your father have her bred to keep the line going?”
“Indeed he did. I thought it was kind of a waste. We don’t need
horses anymore, but Father’s a bit superstitious. He didn’t want to turn over too many things the Grand Dame was doing.”
“Why don’t you call her the queen?” I ask.
He looks a little puzzled. “The queen? You mean the Grand Dame?”
“Yes,” I say. “I know who you’re talking about, but, well, I don’t know about the people at Castle Brannach, but everywhere else she was referred to as the Ravensgaard queen.”
“Well, not to my face she isn’t,” he says. “My father wants to honor her, but he doesn’t allow her to be called a queen. He says it’s because it would upset all the other shifters. I mean, if we have a queen, how can we be sworn to the Eagles? It wouldn’t make sense.”
“But she doesn’t have any descendants,” I say.
“Correct,” he says. “So my father became Master and we are sworn to the Eagles.”
I’m starting to think maybe I should’ve gone to the Eagles for help. Maybe we should’ve gone to Muirderslot or even all the way over to California to see if the Van Arends will help support my cause against the Hunters. Though California seems so far away. I don’t even know if they’re aware of the Hunters over there.
“Well, it seems like it’s taking something away from the Ravensgaards by not calling her queen,” I say. “That’s what she was called when she was alive.”
“If you want, you can take it up with my father,” Riordan says. “But you probably don’t want to do that. He gets quite pissy at the mention of her. I don’t think he’s fond of magic.”
“Yeah, he’s not fond of magic except when it protects his arse in his castle,” I mumble under my breath.
“Where is the other horse?” I ask. “The descendent of Maggie?”
“Well she’s had several. In her prime she foaled every year,” he says. “There’s two now. She’s out-lived almost all the rest of them. You can see them down there at the end,” he gestures toward the back.
I make my way through the expansive barn. The smells of straw, piss, shit and animal hair are overwhelming. It’s not terribly dirty, the place is obviously kept clean, but it still reeks of beast. I struggle to collect my thoughts.
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