“I need to kill them all.”

“So many bodies,” Caswyn muttered. “How could they kill so many defenseless people?”

Few of the bodies purified appeared to have been warriors. Most appeared to be locals.

Keita took in a breath. “I know this is . . . disturbing.”

“It’s more than that.”

Holding up her hand to her cousin, Keita went on. “But I think Ren . . .” She took a moment, looking off and licking her lips. Attempting to get control of her emotions.

The royal cleared her throat. “I need to know if Ren is in—”

“I’ll go,” Brannie announced.

“I can’t ask—”

“You didn’t ask. But I’m not sending you in there. I can get in.”

“What if the Eastlander is . . .” Uther paused a moment, worried how to phrase the rest of his sentence. “. . . among the . . . uh . . . purified?”

“They’d know,” Aidan explained, “that as an Eastlander he must be a royal. He’d have a place of honor. Either inside the fort or right outside the main gates. I doubt he’d be left among the rows of the dead.”

“If he’s here. I’ll find him,” Brannie said.

“I’m going with you,” Aidan told her.

“No. I need you to get Keita to the Eastlands if—”

“Caswyn and Uther can get me to the Eastlands if necessary,” Keita cut in. “Aidan, go with her. I don’t want my cousin in there alone.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No,” Keita said with a determined shake of her head. “No.”

“The suns have gone down,” Aidan announced, dismounting his horse. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Thirteen

Letting their horses go with Uther and Caswyn, Brannie and Aidan stayed in the line of trees surrounding the fort and waited.

They waited in the same position for hours. Even when it began to rain and they were soaked to the bone, they waited.

This was why Brannie had sent Keita off with Uther and Caswyn. Not just to keep her safe but because Brannie didn’t want to hear her complain the entire time that they needed to “move! Move now!”

As a Protector of the Throne—something that still had Brannie’s mind spasming every time she thought about it—Keita might have the patience necessary in every assassin, but knowing Ren might be trapped inside that fort, possibly being tortured . . .

No. It was best she was kept out of the middle of this for now. For her own good and the good of everyone else.

The downpour had stopped by the time Brannie saw what she’d expected all along . . . that this fort was very well protected.

For those unwilling to wait, it probably appeared as if the fort was undefended like many of the temples in the Southlands. But the Zealots weren’t like other god worshippers and this was no temple. It was a battle fort. Nothing more or less.

So, as Brannie patiently waited and watched, she finally saw the changing of the guard. Zealots seemed to appear out of shadow and mist to be replaced by comrades who, just as smoothly, disappeared into shadow and mist.

Once she was positive of where the guards were located, she looked at Aidan. He nodded and, still crouching, they began to move through the trees until they were across from the best spot to get inside.

Now it was their turn to move as if part of shadow and mist. A skill Brannie had been trained in when she was still clinging to her father’s tail. Her poor father. She’d loved creeping around and sneaking up on him when he was involved in his work, scaring the wits from him. In retrospect, it seemed cruel. Her father was as far from a warrior as one could get. But he’d always been a good sport about it.

“You’re like your uncles!” he’d exclaim, picking her up and tossing her high in the air, laughing at her hysterical giggles. “Always trying to find ways to scare the very life from me.”

But it was those early years of childish play that had trained her for this.

* * *

Aidan was glad Keita had insisted he accompany Brannie into the fort. He would have insisted if she hadn’t, but the order was better coming from her. That way Brannie could be annoyed with her cousin rather than him.

His need to go with Brannie wasn’t because he feared so greatly for her safety. Not at all. He just didn’t want her alone in a Zealot-run fort. He was sure there were priests and priestesses inside who could manage a rampaging dragoness if Brannie were forced to shift. And magick sometimes trumped just being a very large dragon. Especially when the dragon didn’t have any magickal skills of her own besides being able to shift.

But two dragons . . . ? Well, that was a bit more of a challenge for anyone.

As the pair stepped away from the tree line, the skies opened up once more and rain poured down on them. They glanced at each other and nodded.

Rain worked in their favor.

But as they began to move forward, lightning struck. That was more of a problem. A good bolt could light up the sky . . . and the land beneath, alerting the guards to their presence.

Brannie paused for maybe a half second before she took off running, keeping low. Perhaps they could outrun the lightning.

Aidan immediately followed after her.

Thunder exploded right over them and Brannie picked up speed. They slammed their backs against the fort wall just as a lightning strike snapped over their heads, lighting up the entire surrounding area.

Letting out a breath, they looked at each other again and, with a nod from Brannie, they split up. He went left, she went right.

The first guard he came to made the mistake of turning his head to muffle his cough. Aidan caught him from behind, wrapping his hand around the guard’s mouth and burying his dagger into the side of his neck. He dropped the body and moved to the next one.

Lightning hit at the same time Aidan arrived and the guard saw him. The man opened his mouth to warn his friends, but his words were lost in the thunder and rain. He tried again, but Aidan stopped him by slamming his dagger into his open mouth, pinning the human to the fort wall.

Aidan yanked out his blade and stepped over the body. His next few attacks went well and he met up with Brannie in under ten minutes.

And yet she still felt the need to complain, “Took you long enough, Mì-runach.”

Ignoring her comment, Aidan asked, “Do we storm the front gates, killing everyone in sight? Or sneak in silently, like my worthless brethren?”

Brannie actually thought on that a moment—he’d been kidding!—before she grudgingly replied, “Sneak.”

Then she sighed. As if such a suggestion was so beneath her.

Pushing her wet hair off her face, she motioned for him to follow her and then set off. They went halfway around the fort, finally stopping at a small door hidden behind a large bush.

Brannie pushed the door open and got on her knees. She leaned in, looking around before she signaled for him to, again, follow her.

With a deep breath, steeling himself, Aidan waited until Brannie’s adorable human ass disappeared inside. Then he went in after her.

* * *

The small door led them into a network of underground tunnels. A way in and out for Zealots who might need to escape.

Apparently all the Zealots were not ready to die for their precious one god.

When they got to a section of the tunnel that split in several ways, Brannie silently pointed in one direction for Aidan and she took the other. She knew he probably wanted to stick with her, but they were low on time and had a lot of ground to cover. Pretending to be her nursemaid would be a foolish move.

Brannie walked down the long hallway. Above her she could hear movement, some chanting. She assumed she was close to a center of worship.

The tunnel split off again and, as she briefly debated which way to go, she heard a shout of warning from above. Someone had found the bodies outside.

Another shout from behind her, though, had Brannie quickly moving to the left, her back flat against the stone wall. A few seconds later, Aidan ran by . . . and a squad of armed Zealots ran right after him.

She rolled her eyes. “Idiot.”

Brannie knew Aidan the Divine well enough to know—know!—that he’d allowed himself to be seen. Why? Probably to protect her. To distract the guards already searching the tunnels and fort for them.