Curse of the Celts by Clara O'Connor (most romantic novels .TXT) 📕

In the low-lying mist of dawn, it was impossible to tell whether they were dead or if we could still aid them. I pulled free and slid off his horse, racing across the clearing to where several druids lay. I turned the first one I came to. Dead. His face was frozen in a grimace of pain that was clearly visible in the pale morning light.

“We need to get down there,” Marcus urged, still not engaging with the fallen bodies. I had moved to the next body and the next. They were all far beyond our help.

I hesitated, assessing the site below. We were useless without our magic. We were close enough to see the buildings now and they were almost burnt out. Soon there would be nothing left but the wreckage of what had once been a druidic centre of learning and healing. Where was Devyn? The anxiety that had been nagging at me since he left now scraped its way up my insides and screamed for attention. Whatever had happened here, it was over. Some of the tall ships out in the bay had started to set sail. Several boats piled with what must be half a legion of sentinels were making their way out to them with what was likely the last of their troops.

“We’re too late,” I managed to get out, surveying the catastrophe that had unfolded beneath us.

“What about the mistletoe supplies?” Marcus asked. “We should check if they can be saved.”

I surveyed the scene of nearly total devastation below. Most of the buildings were burnt out and bodies lay strewn on the ground. We were far too late. Nothing had survived down there. I scanned around for Devyn. Where was he?

“Dammit, Cassandra.” Marcus exhaled. “We’ve got to get down there.”

“There’s no point. The mistletoe will already be burned. We’d be putting ourselves at risk for nothing.”

“I’m afraid the point is that we have an appointment to keep,” he explained grimly, advancing towards me.

I backed away on instinct, my mind struggling to comprehend what was happening, but aware that I needed to put space between myself and my friend.

I shook my head, backing up until I hit the central altar stone. I raised my hand as though I could prevent him from coming any closer by sheer power of will.

Marcus had betrayed us. Marcus had done this. I didn’t know how or why but I knew.

I whirled around and started to run, hampered by the gown I had worn to the ball and in which I had planned to be married. I was betrayed by the cloak that had warmed me as I rode through the night to a wedding which had never been part of Marcus’s plan.

My cloak was caught, and the abrupt stop choked me about the throat and pulled me back. I landed on my back, stunned by the momentary strangulation. Marcus was on me in seconds, and while I was still blinking, had pulled my wrists together and tied them as I started to thrash. He was going to take me, take me to those murdering legions, back to Londinium.

I screamed through the bond. Devyn, where are you? In the borderlands the bond had conveyed my fear to him despite the handfast cuff’s interference.

Marcus pulled me from the ground as I continued to thrash and do what I could to make it difficult for him to propel me along.

“Shh, Cassandra. Hush, be calm.”

Marcus held me still and waited, waited for me to submit to his wishes. To realise I had no choice. Without my magic, I was defenceless against his superior strength.

“I need you to come with me. It’s for the best.”

I let myself go limp, allowing him to pick me up off the ground before I did the only thing I could think of and lifted my knee to where it would do the most damage. I took off as he curled to the ground with a suffocating noise. I ran as fast as I could through the circle and down the other side of the hill, back the way we had come. I ran but I wasn’t fast enough. He was already behind me; I could hear his horse gaining on me. I took a look behind me to see how close he was, but he was already right there. My foot caught on something in the ground and I fell clumsily. I sobbed in frustration.

He dismounted and came to stand in front of me.

“Cassandra, it’s time to go home. It’s for the best.”

“The best? For who?” I snarled as he pulled me up again only to throw me headfirst over his horse. He mounted behind me and clicked the horse into a trot.

“I’m sorry,” he said over my back. “I did what I had to do.”

“Traitor!” I accused, my voice muffled as I spoke from my ignominious position thrown over the horse like a sack of wheat, watching the ground as the horse made its way up and then down the hillside. I wriggled and pushed in an attempt to dislodge myself from its back.

“Stop,” Marcus ordered, lifting me by the waist of my dress to rebalance me in a way that left me less leverage to get off this blasted nag. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Hurt myself. I’d bloody kill him.

Marcus had set us up from the beginning. It was no coincidence that we were here this very morning and that Devyn and I couldn’t reach our magic. Marcus had planned it. He had prepared our bags, and no doubt every drop of water we had consumed on the way had been spiked – if not at the feast itself too, where he would have had every opportunity. Just like when we had travelled out of Londinium. I gasped. Was he the one who had poisoned Devyn?

Step by step, we got ever closer to those waiting ships. The fire from the burning buildings heated the very air we passed through. The churned-up ground that was all I could see