Our return voyage was much less eventful than the last, which was something of a miracle for us. Still, it was long and tiring—full of hot sun and endless salty spray.
When at last we landed upon the shores of Mide, my father’s castle looming over us from above, I vaulted down from the longship I had once feared. As I took that first step on the rocky, sandy shore, I could hardly prevent myself from falling to my knees and kissing the ground in thanksgiving. But I had barely enough time to tilt my head to the sun’s warm rays before a horn bellowed far above us.
My heart sped up in my chest. Though technically I was the cause for the horn’s bellow, it still filled me with fiery dread. Habits died hard. The Northmen meant so much more to me now. I might not have been ready to forgive Leif’s father for what he had done to my sister, but it was Leif and Arin and Rúna and all the others who had taught me that not every Northman was a monster, just as the minds and stories of the j?tnar had taught me that not every giant was completely corrupted by evil. Darkness came in many forms, and it was wrong to think that any being was beyond redemption. Even the Morrigan had moments of goodness.
“We must hurry,” I said to Leif, who joined me at my side. “They will think we’ve come to raid.”
“It’s no more than your mother deserves,” he said with a smirk.
“Perhaps. But my sisters and remaining clansmen do not.”
Arin ran over to us, his expression eager. “Will there be a battle?”
Leif turned to his brother with a stern look. “Stay with the ship.”
We had started up the rocky path when I heard it: the unmistakable sound of warhorses. The jangle of chain mail and weapons followed, and I doubled my pace. We had to make it to the top of the cliff, else we’d be funneled just as the Northmen I killed once had.
I glanced back at Leif. “Tear off a piece of your linen tunic—and hurry.” He did as I asked, ripping free a piece of cloth that was a dingy white, but white nonetheless. “I will go on alone. I don’t want to alarm them.”
He looked for a moment like he’d argue, but in the end nodded his assent.
I held the cloth aloft as I came to the top of the steep rise.
Before me stretched a contingent of thirty men, led by the High King of éirinn, Brian Boru. His banner of crimson and gold flew high above him, and he rode a little apart from the rest on a white charger. The sun glinted off his dark gray armor menacingly. My heart continued to race along in my chest, for I had not forgotten that it was his daughter who was married to King Sigtrygg.
“Peace,” I said clearly in Gaelic, easily slipping back into my native tongue. “I am Ciara of Mide, and this is no raid.”
The king frowned. “Ciara, Queen of Dubhlinn, who has allied herself with Northmen?”
I raised my chin and met his dark gaze. “The same.”
“What brings you here with Northman longships and an army at your back?”
“I have come to assure myself of the safety of my sisters and clansmen,” I said.
“They are well enough now that we are here to guide them,” the king said.
“Then you must know the king, my father, has died,” I said, unable to prevent the torrent of images—the charred remains in the chapel, dying for a second time in an explosion of bones and ash—from racing through my mind.
The king shifted in his saddle. “Yes, another king dead. King Killian of Mide, your own father. You are here to seize his lands, I suppose?”
My eyes narrowed dangerously. “It was King Sigtrygg who killed my father, and no fewer than two hundred of my clansmen, and I was right to seek vengeance against him. As eldest daughter, I am my father’s heir. The kingdom of Mide is mine, and I’ve returned to claim it.”
“It was your mother who said you’d been banished,” the king said, and I saw his hand tighten on the grip of his sword. “You no longer have a claim here.”
I stood before the High King of éirinn, a man who outranked me, but I would not cower before him. I had faced foes much greater than him, and I would take what was mine.
“The blood of my father, the king of Mide, flows through me, and I will assume my role as protector of this land. Retreat, sire, or I will be forced to slaughter your men.”
Angry voices rose at my insolence, but I held my ground.
The king leaned forward and locked eyes with me. “I’d like to see you try.”
His men cheered as I retreated back down the path, my jaw set. Leif waited for me near the shore with what was left of my army of undead standing at attention.
I marched to the forefront of them. “There is an army at the top of this cliff. Kill them. Spare the king.”
I pulled myself astride Sleipnir as Leif mounted Abrax. The few Northmen who had returned with us waited, unabashedly eager for battle.
“This is my fight, Leif.”
He grinned. “I appreciate your efforts to emasculate me so early in our relationship, but you know I cannot resist a battle.”
A laugh escaped me in spite of myself. “We aren’t married yet.” I tossed another smile over my shoulder at him as I urged Sleipnir up the rocky path.
Leif and the other Northmen followed, but my undead army surged past me, their feet never seeming to touch the ground. Strangled screams greeted them at the top of the cliff, and by the time Sleipnir delivered me to the top, nearly every man was dead.
“Stop! Enough,” I said when the High King dropped his sword at my feet.
“I yield,” he said, his face ashy pale in the bright sunlight. Seven of his remaining men circled around him bravely, though they, too, were deathly pale.
“Do you recognize me as queen of Dubhlinn and Mide?” I asked, the Sword of the Fallen held ready in my hand.
He dipped his head once. “You are hereby granted both kingdoms to rule and protect.”
I smiled slow as death. “It would be my honor, your grace.”
The castle bailey was quiet with an almost palpable unease. Leif and I rode our horses right to the doors of the keep, where I knew my mother waited inside.
“Máthair,” I called, because I knew her by no other name.
It wasn’t long before she came, followed by my sisters, whose golden hair brought tears to my eyes.
Her hands were in fists at her sides, and her face was as welcoming as a hailstorm. Worse still were my sisters’ reactions: they kept their eyes firmly on the floor, never meeting mine. “Where is the High King?” my mother asked.
“Defeated,” I said, and she sucked in a breath.
“You killed him, too?”
I flinched. “Defeated but not dead.”
She crossed her arms defensively. “Why are you here, Ciara? You aren’t welcome.”
Leif shifted in his saddle threateningly, but I raised my hand. “I may not be your daughter, but I am the eldest daughter of the king of Mide. I have come to claim my birthright, to keep Mide safe and to rule as its queen. This is my kingdom, these are my sisters, my clansmen. No harm will come to them while I rule. My alliance with Leif Olafsson will usher in a time of peace between our kingdoms and the Northmen.”
Máthair stood in stunned silence, and my gaze shifted to Branna and Deirdre behind her. Both were thin and pale, but Branna now looked at me with cautious hope in her eyes. What had happened while I’d been away?
I dismounted and approached them. Máthair shifted so she was standing in front of my sisters, and I glared at her through the hurt. Surely she couldn’t believe I’d harm them?
“I came back, Bran,” I said, addressing the one more likely to rebel against Máthair. “Just as I promised you.”
“It’s too late now,” Branna said, her tone quiet and sullen.
“What do you mean?”