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In the Five Kingdoms of Saol Eile, magic is the only currency and those who have the most cast long shadows across the land. Amidst lavish parties, sumptuous banquets, and sprawling castles, despicable tyrant...
Cecily's eyes opened from inside a dream, finding herself beside Daire and Frela at the mouth of the cavern outside of Bráithre Delve. It was as if she had never left. She seemed to remain a growing presence in the back of his mind; a force to be reckoned with, she boldly wagered. Then those thoughts dissolved within the moment. The merge of their minds happened too quickly – too easily. She could feel his fear – frozen, unable to move a muscle, cold sweating fear. Even with every other mage, master, and clever adversary he had ever encountered, he appeared more vulnerable than ever.
Suddenly, a tide of energy roared through Frela. The horse tossed her head and her muscles bunched as she gathered her energy to race back down the trail from whence they came. But Daire reined her in, quickly but gently, allowing her to move forward a few more steps, and then pulled her to a stop.
He then turned in his saddle and looked back toward the daunting landscape, looking lost in thought.
Curious, Cecily focused her concentration and summoned the strength to hear only Daire's thoughts. He was roiling in emotion. She listened to him for a-while as he mulled over the notion that his magic had been the ultimate and undefeatable force until now. It was his power and there could be no doubt about its supreme effectiveness and his ability to wield it without opposition. Fear in one hand and promises in the other; minds were made pliable and responsive to his will.
That was the secret in maintaining control.
It was so easy.
With a gasp, Cecily yanked herself back, but it was too late. Her eyes widened as Daire's thoughts bombarded her; his mind racing. Cecily struggled to make sense of it all. His mind was on the dwarves. They were an inferior race, but clever. They supplied him with whatever he had needed to control Imrath for both his needs and theirs, yet they continued to hold back the heavy armaments and more modern weaponry. And until that state of affairs changed, he would remain at their mercy, which was unacceptable for a man of his standing.
He would force them to deal with him as an equal power - as someone with the key to thwarting their intentions just as he would thwart Raegan's.
With her bound to him, and as the source of everything she feared and wanted; he would reward her. And his gift to her would be a bit of the same power he wielded, but she would have to fight the onslaught on her senses – the heaviness behind her eyes, the need to cling to him, the weakness that made her bones turn to water – with the only weapon she possessed, her formidable self-control.
As the rhythmic sound of wind gusted through the night, Daire took a deep breath, feeling fury pierce his heart, shifting the shadows hidden deep within his soul. Discipline. He had stifled the thoughts of slaying Raegan, but kept them in his heart, like a fire that burns underground, churning and insidiously smoldering, until it eroded his core.
It isn't time yet. His voice came with a venomous anger.
It was, indeed, remarkable how one well-placed gambit could penetrate every illusion, every exotic move, and every stratagem – not to mention the flesh behind them.
Impatiently, Frela tossed her head again; her eyes wide and nostrils flaring. Gathering the reins, Daire urged the beast back toward the trail. When he leaned forward and abruptly dug his heels into Frela's sides, the horse reared, then gathered herself and leaped through the darkness, racing back to Imrath.
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