Page 43 of A Wolf's Bargain

Cillian’s heart plummeted as icy dread slithered down his spine. It’d been a ruse. Somehow, their enemy had known. They’d known the luchthonn would lead the charge, and they’d sacrificed some of their men to distract from their actual target—the castle.

Cora.

He’d left her there without so much as a weapon to defend herself.

With a savage snarl, Cillian yanked his wolf’s skin over his head. He leapt forward, already on four paws by the time he hit the ground at a run. A howl went up behind him as the others followed, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but getting to his mate in time.

And gods save anyone or anything that stood between them.

Chapter 20

Cora

Cora paced the length of the room, cursing Cillian under her breath. In the five minutes since he’d left, she’d called him every name she could think of and made up a few new ones on the spot.

How dare he leave her behind?

How dare he just... justleave?

The irony of her feelings didn’t escape her. This was why she’d married him in the first place. His presence here—the risk to his life—was a condition of their marriage. She had brought him and the other luchthonn here, and if they died, it’d be her doing. And she’d have to live with that, knowing that while they fought for her people and her father’s lands, she hid in a castle, safely protected by its walls.

It wasn’t right.

She glanced at the door for what felt like the thousandth time. It was barred, but only from her side. There was no way to lock it, so she’d pushed a heavy chest in front of it to keep people out—and maybe to keep her from following him right out the door. It mocked her now, reminding her she was in a prison of her own making.

Outside, the guard’s shouts continued. She strained to hear their words, but everything muddled together until it sounded like another language. If she squinted, she could make out the little dots of English torches in the distance. They were no closer, from what she could tell, but it was difficult to be sure with such little light.

Cora’s heart lurched when she heard the first howl. Another followed, and she watched as a mass of shadowy figures raced away toward their enemy.

The luchthonn.

Her heart clenched in her chest as she strained to make out Cillian in the pack. Of course, they were too far away—there was no way to see one wolf separate from the others. Cora crossed herself and mumbled a prayer for her husband’s safety.

She stared out of the window until she couldn’t make out the luchthonn anymore. Placing her hand on the window, she whispered words she hadn’t yet had the courage to say out loud. If—when—Cillian came back, she swore that she’d tell him.

She had to.

The words had flitted through her mind often enough, but it had never seemed like the right moment. Even as they’d embraced before he left, she’d nearly said them, but the fear of being misunderstood—of him dismissing her words as desperate platitudes—stilled her tongue.

With the luchthonn out of sight, Cora peered down into the courtyard. She thought she could make out somemadraíamong her father’s guards, and she watched as they took up posts along the wall.

Helpless to do anything but watch, Cora turned away from the window. She went back to pacing, counting the stone tiles beneath her feet to give her mind something to do. There was nothing for her to do—no way to help him and no way to end the fighting any faster.

Cora was nearly half-mad with worry when the shouts began again. They’d faded when the luchthonn took to the field, but suddenly they were back—and louder. She rushed to the window, peering down into the courtyard. Éogan stood in the center, hollering and gesturing toward the gates. Her father stood next to him, dressed in full armor.

Dread pooled in Cora’s belly at the sight of him. Though he hid it well, Lord Kilkenny had suffered a wound years ago that had left his sword arm permanently damaged. He could write, pick things up, feed himself, and do other everyday things, but he hadn’t swung a sword in years. He couldn’t—not without extreme pain.

What could he be thinking?

Cora wanted to shout at him; she wanted to bang on the windows and yell until he listened. It was madness for him to be there, and she couldn’t understand why Éogan didn’t send him away.

Except she could. She knew exactly why her father was there, dressed in armor and holding a weapon he couldn’t use. He refused to watch others defend his land while he hid away—even if it cost him his life.

For a moment, she tried to tell herself that he’d be safe behind the walls, just as she would. Cillian and the luchthonn would defeat the English invaders, and her father would never have to fight. All would be well, just as Cillian promised.

Then she looked up and saw the torches.

Her initial fear was that Cillian had been killed and the English had already made it to the castle. When she saw the flickering lights still in the distance, she realized what had happened.