“Nila, will you speak?”
“I will, and gladly.”
She was tall, slender, young, but her voice carried strong.
When the elf finished her story, she sat, and Keegan called on another.
The man rose, twisting his cap in his hands as the woman beside him wept silently.
“They killed our boy, sir, our youngest boy. Toric himself came to us and said he’d heard our boy had a calling. In truth he’d spoken about joining the order, living a life of prayer, doing good works. And Toric said he would take the boy as an initiate, and he would begin service, continue his education. We thought it an honor, and he would be close, you see. He could come home once every week. He said—he said—they worked hard, the initiates, and slept rough, but it was good for the soul. And they ate well, and learned much.”
The man choked back a sob. “The last time or two he came home, he was so quiet, and seemed troubled. But he said he needed to pray on it, and was sad, as two of the other boys had run off.”
The man gathered himself. “And on Samhain, after the attack, and we couldn’t get through to try to get to our youngest, but thought him safe in those walls, you came yourself, to tell us he was dead.”
Keegan called on the Fey who’d seen the boys murdered, on the parents of the other boys. On others.
Then he looked at Breen, and even as dread at having to stand and speak filled her, he turned to the accused.
“What do you say to these words, these crimes of abduction and murder and sacrifice?”
All of them kept silent, refused to speak, until one of them fell forward, prostrated himself, bound hands outstretched. “I was misled. I ask for mercy. I was only a boy when I entered the order, and I believed all they taught. All Toric preached. I was misled, and never did I shed blood myself.”
“Only watched it shed?” Keegan said.
“Had I spoken out, my life would be forfeit.”
“Coward,” Toric sneered from his seat.
“Let him speak,” Keegan ordered as Brian turned to him.
“A coward and a liar, and a traitor to the true faith. He shed blood, drank it, offered it as is demanded by Odran, and now he whimpers like a child.”
“You do not deny the accusations, the words spoken here?”
“I deny nothing, and I defy the weak laws, the thin faith of the Fey to stop the rise of the god. And with his rise, we crush your bones to dust. With his rise.”
He stood now, aimed his gaze at Breen. “He will drink you dry, abomination, and give us your husk to burn in his name.
“In his name!” Toric shouted, and as his bindings fell, as Lordan, the spy from the valley, collapsed, he shot power at Breen.
Even as Keegan surged from the chair, she pushed her hand out, met power with power. As the furnace of power in her ignited, she lifted her other hand high, rose.
She heard herself speak, but the words, the knowledge, the light burning in her came from so deep.
“You would test me here, in this place, at this time? You, murderer of children, slayer of the innocents, defiler of true faith, traitor to the Fey, to Talamh and all the worlds?”
As the air stirred around her, she stepped forward, pushing, pushing against what he threw at her, watching, watching the fear grow in his eyes.
“I am granddaughter of Mairghread, daughter of Eian. I am child of the Fey. I am of the Wise, of the Sidhe, of man, and of the gods. Hear my words and know truth. See me. See me and tremble at what will come for you and your dark god.”
Her power whirled. It spun around him, locked him inside a cage of light.
Moving toward him, moving closer, she angled her head, left, right, as he cowered inside the bars.
“I see your death, your blood on the stones, your eyes staring without life in the dark. Be glad, Toric, murderer of children, you don’t face my judgment this day, but that of the taoiseach, that of the rule of law. But know, the time may come when you will.”
She brought down her lifted arm, and he fell to the ground.
It emptied out of her as quickly as it had filled. The room spun, and she waited to just slide down like water from a jar.
An arm came around her, took her weight. Tarryn’s voice murmured in her ear.
“You’ll not faint and be spoiling such a moment as this.”
“Okay.”
“I want you to walk back on your own now, look straight in front of you, head high. And sit.”
She did as she was told, though the murmurs and confusion in the room got through finally. She sat, and even with his hand shaking, Marco took hers.
“Put the accused back where they belong, would you, Mahon, Brian.”
Mahon started to lift the one who’d collapsed, then knelt. “This one’s dead, Taoiseach, and cold with it.”
Keegan held up a hand as the room threatened to fall into chaos.
“That’s how you broke your bindings,” he said to Toric. “You found the weakest, drained him, left him only enough to walk in here. Strengthened yourself, and took the rest of his light and life to attack. And now, we are all of us witnesses. We have all of us heard your own words damning you. You have each of you been accused, had testimony given against you. You have each of you broken sacred trusts, sacred laws. And you will each of you pay for this. You are, one and all, banished to the Dark World. You will, one and all, be taken there immediately, and sealed there for all time.”
“He will free us!” Toric shouted, but fear cracked through the words. “He will free his faithful.”
“I think he will not,” Keegan said easily. “I think he will see what you are, cowards and weaklings. But should I be wrong, you should hope that I meet you on the field, and not Breen Siobhan O’Ceallaigh.
“Banishment, for all time,” he repeated, and brought down the staff. “This is the Judgment. Take them out, and to the dolmen in the woods. I will open and seal the portal myself.”
He brought down the staff again, then rose. “So it is done.”
“I really want some air,” Breen managed.
“Okay, honey, let’s just sit here until the place clears out a little.”
“Best leave now.” Tarryn walked up, took one of Breen’s hands. “Others will want to speak to you. So come with me now, and I’ll take you out this way.”
She led them out a side door, down a corridor, around a turn, and into the library.
“You’ll have quiet here, and some wine. Open the doors there, Marco darling, so she can have some air as well.”
“I don’t know how that happened.”
“If you don’t, you will.” Speaking easily, Tarryn poured from a decanter. “I’d take you up to my rooms and mix a potion for you, but this will do. You’re stronger than you think, and showed that well and fine this day. Marg will be so proud.”
“I was so angry, and so twisted up listening to those parents—those boys—and then it was so fast.”
“Your gift, your power comes from your heart and your belly as much as your mind. Your belly holds the anger, your heart the compassion. Your mind the will.”
She patted Breen into a chair before pouring wine for Marco. “Drink some wine now, Marco. What a good friend you are. He stood beside you, Breen, did you know? The whole time. He stood with you, for you.”
“No, I didn’t know. But of course he would.”
“You’d do the same for me.”
“I have to leave you now, as Keegan needs me for the rest. But you stay here as long as you wish. No one will disturb you.”
“Tarryn, thank you. Thanks for giving me a hand when I might’ve— probably would’ve—passed out and spoiled the moment.”
“Can’t have that now, can we? It was such a bloody thrilling one.”
When she left by the open doors, Marco dropped down with Breen.