Curse of the Celts Clara O'Connor (new reading txt) 📖

its way through Devyn’s veins. Gladness filled my heart and I tasted the salt on my tongue, felt the wind whipping through my hair, and I lifted my face to the growing light in the east.

The sound of a step behind me alerted me to the fact that I was no longer alone. I didn’t turn though, wanting to savour the moment for as long as possible. I inhaled the clean, open tang of the air into my lungs and through my body.

“How is he?” A gravelly voice spoke softly into the air at my back.

“Better,” I said, turning to the dark shadow that now stopped at the top of the stairs.

Gideon exhaled.

“The Griffin will live?”

“Yes, no thanks to you,” I snapped, out of habit more than anything, because now we knew that Gideon’s knife had probably saved Devyn’s life.

He arched a brow before continuing as if he hadn’t heard my snarky comment. “Was the druid able to tell you any more about the poison?”

“He didn’t know. Perhaps something Devyn had eaten or drunk before we met you on the road.”

“Who? When?” He was immediately attempting to identify where the threat might have come from.

“I don’t know. Nor do I care right now.” Devyn was well again; that was enough.

“You should care, kitty cat. Why would anyone target the Griffin? What could anyone hope to gain from it? Was Marcus the target? Were you?” he mused aloud.

“Whoever it was, what does it matter now? We’re safe.”

“Are you? Somebody tried to kill Devyn, or one of you. Where it was worth trying once, it will be worth trying twice,” he scoffed. “Was it done before you left Londinium? In Oxford? While you were travelling on the road?”

My current exhausted indifference didn’t mean that my mind hadn’t been worrying at the same problem. Was he right? Had Devyn been poisoned by accident or on purpose? We had travelled closely together; if it had been someone singling Devyn out, then there would have been few to no opportunities. What reason would anyone have for cutting down Devyn? Most Britons had thought him dead for nearly a decade. A few had known he lived: Fidelma, Bronwyn and the man I now knew to be my brother.

Bronwyn I believed we could trust and Fidelma seemed not to care for politics. Then there was the ruler of Mercia, my brother. I had danced with him at the ball and he had somehow known who Devyn was. But he had saved Devyn that night. Why protect someone only to kill them later? And when would any of them have had an opportunity? We hadn’t seen anyone on our way from Londinium. Except for Callum…

My mind balked at the idea that Devyn’s former teacher could have done such a thing. But every time I asked these questions, my mind always brought me back to Callum.

Gideon had a point though; someone clearly didn’t want Devyn to return home.

Or had the poison really been intended for Marcus or me? Most likely, Marcus; I was of little value dead, whereas Marcus wasn’t just a powerful healer, he was a symbol of power to both peoples on this island. The magic in his veins was either a hope or a threat, depending on which side you stood. But how would the council have got to us out here in the Wilds? Or could it have been done before we left?

My peace utterly shattered, I glared at the bearer of these unsettling questions.

“Fine, you have a point, but it could be anyone,” I said.

“We should be safe here for now.” Gideon was reassuring me, and it didn’t pass me by that he included himself as one of us.

“Why?” I asked. “Not why are we safe, but why are you helping us now?”

“You are my lord’s beloved sister, back from the dead; your boyfriend is my own nation’s true heir, returned to us at a time when power has been waning in the land, and your not-boyfriend, while not my favourite person, brought you both back to our people, so if he stays alive, I’m okay with that,” Gideon answered. What did he mean, my not-boyfriend?

He smirked at me.

Damn.

I glared at him.

He moved closer, invading my space. His voice was substantially lower as he spoke again, merely a whisper on the salty wind between us.

“It is the Griffin’s job to keep you safe, and if he cannot do so then somebody else will have to,” he said.

“I told you, Devyn is going to be fine.”

“The Griffin has issues of his own that may make it difficult for him to be your protector.”

“You all keep saying that, but you never explain what you mean and I’ve had enough.” I was fed up of never quite understanding the forces that kept us apart.

“Devyn broke his oath to the Lakes when he ran off to find you, princess. He has given up his right to be Griffin.”

“But he found me,” I whispered. “Surely that counts for something.”

“Depends on who has him.”

“How so?”

“In Anglia, he would find little mercy. My home is made up of people who would rather die fighting the Empire than live in it for one second. We are warriors first and last. My father would show no mercy to a warrior who broke his oath. You saw my reception here; House Glyndŵr has certainly not forgotten that my father voted to have Rhodri executed twenty years ago.”

“York would kill Devyn?” But we weren’t in Anglia. “Then just as well we happen to be in Gwynedd.”

Gideon shook his head. “Not really. There’s a reason I didn’t want us to come here. It will provoke York all the more. My father will see it as an act of war that Devyn flees justice.”

“Why?”

“House Glyndŵr has run thin. Devyn Glyndŵr is the last of their line. Llewelyn and Rhys will have no children, and his sister, Cerys, married the prince of Kernow and bore him daughters. Rhodri has only one son.”

“Devyn Glyndŵr,” I repeated. Not Devyn Agrestis.