“Where did ye go, lass? Ye’ve moved too far away from me and my side has grown cold. Come closer.”

Half-asleep, Raudrich reached for Laurel, only to find the space next to him empty.

Concerned, he sat up to look around the room, but Laurel was nowhere inside. The blankets on her side of the bed were still warm. She couldn’t have been gone long, but where would she have gone?

The rest of the men were asleep, and with Nicol now back, she’d not have reason to keep Freya company. He didn’t often worry, but the air felt unusually heavy this night, as if it held a warning of something he couldn’t yet see.

Doing his best to remain calm, Raudrich rose and lit a fire as he began to dress. It was only once the room was illuminated by the glow of fire that he noticed the small piece of parchment on Laurel’s pillow.

He read her words with trembling hands as he rattled his mind and tried to make sense of what she could mean.

Panic coursing through him, he ran out into the hallway. Harry stood only a few steps away from his door.

“What is this? Where is she?”

He thrust the note in Harry’s face as his lifelong friend began to cry.

“I’m sorry, Raudrich. We had no choice, truly.”

He grabbed Harry by the collar of his shirt, yanking him roughly toward him.

“What do ye mean ye dinna have a choice? Tell me what has happened, Harry.”

A sudden pain shot through his chest, so sharp and staggering he fell to his knees in agony. Harry did the same, and for a few brief seconds, all either man could do was scream.

The pain disappeared as quickly as it had come. The change in the magic around them was palpable—one of The Eight was dead.

As Harry began to sob, Raudrich knew—Calder.

“Where is he? Where is Laurel?”

“The dungeon, lad. There is nothing ye can do. We canna allow ye to save her.”

He pushed himself to his feet and ran toward Nicol’s bedchamber as Machara’s blood-curdling laughter reverberated up from the floor.

Let her be safe, let her be safe.

The prayer played itself over and over in his mind as he ran. As he pushed open the door to the dungeon, he had to lean against the wall to keep himself steady.

The space below reeked of death and blood, and he could hear nothing save Machara’s laughter.

Bracing, he turned the corner to find Calder’s lifeless body only a short distance in front of him. He was on his knees, held up by his sword, which ran through him. Calder’s head hung painfully forward as blood drained from his chest.

Swallowing the bile rising in his throat, Raudrich raised his gaze from the floor to stare into Machara’s cell. She stood in the center of the small space, and Laurel was on her knees in front of her. Machara’s hands were around Laurel’s throat.

“There ye are, lad. I knew it wouldna take ye long.”

He said nothing. He was too busy looking Laurel up and down for a sign of injury. There was no blood or open wound. Despite Machara’s grip around her neck, she appeared unharmed. He would have to proceed carefully to ensure that she remained that way.

“Laurel, lass. I’ll not…”

Machara squeezed her fingers around Laurel’s neck and he stopped short of what he meant to say. As he stopped speaking, she relaxed her grip.

“Doona speak with her, lad. If ye say another word to her, or she to ye, I’ll slip this nail deep into her vein, and I’ll let her bleed out in front of ye. This mortal is simply a pawn. The bargain must be struck between ye and I.”

“What do ye want, Machara?”

“What I’ve always wanted. My freedom. With Calder dead, only one more death is required to free me. Ye love her. I can see that. But do ye love her more than ye love yerself? More than ye love the men ye are bound to through yer oath?”

Without another thought, he walked over to Calder’s body and pulled the sword from his friend’s lifeless chest.

Returning to stand directly in front of Machara, he turned the blade toward his own chest.

“This is what ye want, aye? My own death, as well as Calder’s? If I do this, do ye swear to me, ye shall let Laurel go?”

“Aye, lad, I swear to ye. If ye run yerself through with that sword, I will leave the lass unharmed.”

Just as he pressed the tip of the blade into his chest, the world went dark around him. He fought against the spell. He could hear the chants of the other men in his mind, but their combined magic was too strong for him to fight against it.

The sword flew out of his hands as he collapsed into unconsciousness.

If Laurel was dead when he woke, he would kill every last one of his men.

---

Machara screamed as Raudrich fell. For a moment, I worried she would snap my neck without another thought.

Instead, she whirled on me, quickly pulling me up by my wrists as she threw me against the wall.

“What did ye do?”

I’d not known how The Eight would stop Raudrich, but the moment I saw him fall, I knew what I needed to do. It would require that I put on a play for Machara once again.

I was more terrified than I’d ever been in my life, but I couldn’t allow Machara to see that. She wouldn’t believe the callous performance I meant to give her if she saw my fear.

Freya was right. The hubris of faeries was their downfall. They didn’t believe they could lose, so they never planned for things to go awry. If I could use her frustration to my advantage, I could survive this.

She’d not expected The Eight to stop Raudrich. She had no back-up plan. She was nervous now, off her game, and I was just stepping up to play my own.

“What could I have possibly done? I’m a mortal, remember? I have no powers.”

She screamed again and the walls seemed to shake from the power of her voice. I hoped she couldn’t see my hands trembling.

“Calder must’ve warned them of what I would do. Damn him. I knew he couldna be trusted. He was too soft of heart. Too weak.”

She stepped forward and placed her sharp, pointy nail against the main artery in my neck.

“Ye are no longer any use to me, lass. Convince me why I should make yer death painless, and perhaps I shall.”

“Why would you kill me when I’m the only one left who can help free you?”

She did her best to give nothing away, but I didn’t miss the slight twitch of surprise in her brow at my question.

“Free me? As ye just reminded me—ye are a mortal. There is nothing ye can do for me.”

I smiled.

“Yes, there is. I don’t want to die.”

She was understandably skeptical.

“Ye wouldna do it, lass. Ye doona have it in ye to kill him.”

“You’re right. On my own, I don’t have it in me. But I’m a coward, Machara, and no matter how much I care for Raudrich, I really don’t want to die.”

I hesitated and slowly reached up to push her hand away from my throat.

“But it doesn’t matter if I don’t have it in me to kill him, does it? Not when you can make sure that I follow through with my word.”

When she just stared at me, mistrust in her eyes, I continued.

“Why was it that Calder brought me to you? He didn’t want to. He did it because he had no choice. He did it because his oath to you prevented him from doing differently.”

A light sparked in her eyes, and I could see the moment she understood.

“Ye wish to strike a bargain with me, lass?”

I nodded as I carefully formed the deal I wished to make in my mind. I couldn’t misspeak a single word, and once the bargain was struck, I would have to move quickly.

“Release me from this cell, promise me that you won’t harm me once you are free, and I will run Raudrich through with Calder’s sword.”

Her hand gripped mine in an instant and our deal was sealed.

Her eyes were sparkling with her anticipated victory as she uttered the words that sent me through to the other side of the cell bars in the span of a blink.

I moved without thought, determined to do what I knew I must before Machara had a chance to realize that I would betray her.

I ran over to where the sword had fallen.

Raudrich lay on his back, his arms spread out beside him.

My hands trembled as I lifted Calder’s sword and held it above the center of Raudrich’s chest.

Just as Marchara began to laugh, I plunged the sword downward with all my might, changing its direction at the last second before it pierced his skin. Rather than his heart, I ran it through his right shoulder.

When the sword’s tip hit the stone floor beneath Raudrich, Machara began to scream.

She no longer had any power over me. I’d not said I would kill him. I’d only promised that I would run him through with the sword.

She cursed and wailed, but I could see in her eyes that she knew she’d been beaten.