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

me with each breath. Devyn’s consciousness distracted me from my task; he could feel me trying to summon my power. I shook him away. I needed to concentrate. I breathed in and out, but still it wasn’t working. Despite my recent training, I continued to fail to command the energy to come to me. I opened my eyes and lifted my head, taking in the scene below me. Devyn was pushed back against a tree. He was tiring. What was worse, he had ceased to attack and had retreated to defence only. As if he could sense my approach, his head snapped towards me. I made my way down the track, drawn helplessly to a fight I could not possibly hope to assist. He shook his head at me and I stopped, confused. What had I missed? Why, when he was so clearly losing, was he taking the time to wave me back?

With the bond open I realised I couldn’t sense any fear, though there was some fatigue. What was oddest of all was the mischief I could suddenly identify, and in the same moment, he pounced forward, new energy in his arm as he feinted and parried with his sparring partner.

The girl danced backwards, their struggle taking on a new rhythm as she wove her way back across the clearing. I couldn’t quite understand what was happening. One moment Devyn had been fighting for his life and now it felt like he was playing a game. Confused, I looked around at the rest of the people in the glade. Her fellow riders clearly didn’t like the change of tempo and were leaning forward, watching uneasily. But it was the scarred rider who caught my eye. I looked back at the girl fighting Devyn; she too was starting to flick glances at the rider. It felt like she was warning him off.

Her footwork was slowly growing clumsier while Devyn pressed her harder, and then she was on the ground. From where I stood, I could finally see her face as her scarf had drooped around her neck in the fight. Her eyes widened as she fell, but looking back up at her opponent from the ground, a familiar mocking grin spread across her face. Devyn turned slightly towards where I stood and winked.

I glared back, and our eyes held as I saw his widen with shock and pain. I flinched at the echo stabbing into my own body. Across the clearing, the rider who stood in front of Marcus had a second knife ready in his hand.

“No.” The scarred rider had decided to disobey his leader’s instruction not to intervene. His knife was now sticking out of Devyn’s shoulder. The girl on the ground turned to the rider, attempting to rise and put her body in between them, her long dark braid falling loose.

Devyn fell back, his hand going to the injured shoulder. Rage and fear surged through me. I had rained a storm down on Richmond in his defence, and I would flatten this forest, this entire island, if he died. I ran forward, my sights set on the rider still nonchalantly weighing his next throwing knife, delaying his follow-up in light of his leader’s defence of Devyn.

“Cass,” Devyn called. “No, stop.”

He took a few faltering steps towards me, but I was only half aware as the hum of power surged through me, alive and vengeful. He stumbled past the girl who had dropped her sword to the ground.

She swore as she too stepped towards me, her hands raised in surrender. Well she might surrender; I would leave nothing of any of them but red mist on the grass.

“Damn, no. Cassandra.” She knew my name. How did she know my name? These were the people who were chasing us and I was so bloody tired of being hunted. I would become the hunter. Let these people be a lesson to the next who came to try and hurt us.

But as I took in the scene before me, Devyn stood between me and my prey.

“Get out of my way,” I snarled, not even registering that his injury could hardly be fatal if he had made his way towards me. He had one hand pressed to the bleeding handle, the other raised palm up towards me. The leaves rustled angrily as my power swirled around the clearing.

“No, Cass. Hush, it’s okay,” he said soothingly. “It was a mistake. They’re friends. Friends. It’s okay.”

His certainty pulsed through the bond.. His walls were fully down, his emotions flooding through to me, damping the rage that surged through my body. I looked back at him, confused. These people were not my friends. I narrowed my gaze at the woman he had been fighting. The one who started all this. Bronwyn stood there, his friend from the Treaty Renewal, wearing the clothes of the rider he had fought. Her scarf was pulled down, framing her pale, fine-boned face, wisps of dark hair whipping free of her braid and across her face in the wind that surged around us.

Devyn stepped closer, his palm cupping my cheek, dragging my attention away from my targets. I didn’t understand. I wanted to take them down.

“Shhh, everything’s all right.” His dark eyes were gentle and I couldn’t follow what he was trying to tell me, the power swirled within me, demanding release. I was aware of Devyn’s closeness but remained tense and ready for action. He had left himself vulnerable – his back was to our enemies – and I shifted to put them back in my view. At a gesture from Bronwyn, the mounted warriors dropped their swords, the one with the scar slow to sheathe his second knife. I allowed the storm to swell and the trees by him swayed precariously; he was the most significant threat, the one who would be first to strike. Had already been the first to strike. He had hurt Devyn.

Devyn, whose lips were gently touching mine, his whispers gentling me, distracting me