When Fianna looked in the mirror the next morning, she saw the same face as always staring back at her. But something was different. She couldn’t put her finger on what, but it was there.
She decided to ignore it and go about her day as she always did. When she left her room, she stopped in the corridor and listened to the sounds of the manor. Muffled voices from the stairway reached her. It was the back stairs, which meant it was the kitchen staff and the guards, getting their breakfast.
She turned to the main stairway then walked closer to it and leaned against the railing to peer down. Faint voices reached her from the dining room. She had no desire to talk to anyone from the previous night. Well, except for maybe Rordan.
She twisted her lips. Perhaps not. She had done her duty the night before. She had dressed as expected and sat through a long meal, then stood around making idle—if insipid—conversation with people who only wanted to speak with her because she was Dorcha’s sister. It didn’t matter what Dorcha or her father said. She wouldn’t do that again. It wasn’t as if they had Dorcha training with her for battle. Why should she be a part of his world?
Fianna turned to retrace her steps and ascended the back stairs. She walked past Dorcha’s room and heard something within. Since he was always there for his guests, she assumed he was downstairs. Fianna went to his door and pressed her ear close. She heard a voice that wasn’t her brother’s, so she opened the door, thinking she would find one of the guests snooping in his room.
Instead, she found her brother still in his clothes from the night before, looking as if he hadn’t rested at all. He had dark circles under his eyes, his shirt was half-untucked, and his hair was in disarray.
“What the bloody hell?” he demanded when he saw her.
She blinked and spotted Lewis in the room, but Dorcha moved to block her view. “I thought I heard someone. I came to make sure—”
“Knock next time,” Dorcha barked, his face contorted with fury.
She started to turn away when he suddenly grabbed her arm. Fianna winced as he dug his fingers in on almost the exact spot as the night before.
“Wait. Wait,” he said, his voice calmer. He smiled at her. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long night.”
“So I see.”
“I need your help.”
She grabbed his wrist and tugged it away from her arm. “What do you need?”
“Make sure that Ruarc finds Patrick and Casey houses.”
“You crossed a line with Ruarc last night. I don’t think he’s going to help.”
“That’s why you must convince him,” Dorcha insisted.
Fianna looked into eyes that pleaded with her. It was good to be needed by her family, and whenever they came to her like this, she could never say no. And they knew that. “I’ll give it a shot, but I’m not promising anything.”
“Thank you.”
He appeared close to tears, which was not like her brother at all. “What is going on? And don’t tell me you’re fine because we both know you aren’t.”
Dorcha dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking. Fianna glanced left then right down the hall to make sure no one saw them before backing him into the room and closing the door behind her. She ignored Lewis, who had turned away from them. She would find out why he was in her brother’s room later.
“Dorcha?”
He lifted his head and wiped at his red-rimmed eyes. “We’re in trouble. Big trouble. And if we don’t get this right, they’re going to kill Da.”
“This isn’t the time for jests,” she said and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m not joking.”
She gazed deep into Dorcha’s eyes and comprehended that he was telling the truth. “Da is secreted away. No one knows where he is.”
“They found him.”
“They who?”
Dorcha shook his head. “You don’t want to know. All that matters is that they have Da.”
“What do we need to do to get him back?”
“I need to get certain people to join our cause.”
She shrugged, unsure why that was a difficult thing. “Anyone who listens to your words understands how important your mission is. You have hundreds trying to get into the organization.”
Dorcha started to laugh. He turned away, disgust on his face. “Right.”
“What am I missing?”
“Everything.”
She threw up her hands. “How can I help if you won’t tell me everything?”
“You’re useless. Get out,” he ordered.
Fianna stared at his back, hoping he’d say something else. Finally, she left his room and went in search of Ruarc. Maybe if she got him to do as Dorcha wanted, her brother would reveal whatever it was he was keeping secret. How could she fully help her family if they kept things from her?
She searched the entire manor as well as the grounds and couldn’t locate Ruarc. So, she looked for Rordan. She hoped the two of them might be together since they seemed to have struck up a friendship. She was surprised to find him at the training area.
She watched as he spoke to a couple of her guards. He was at ease, smiling, even chuckled on a couple of occasions. Maybe the darkness, as well as the odd way her brother had acted at the dinner, had caused her to read more into her conversation with Rordan than what had actually been.
Suddenly, he turned, and their gazes met. He bowed his head. She lifted a hand in acknowledgement and started toward him. He broke away from the guards and met her halfway.
“I hope your offer to spar still stands,” he said.
“Of course.”
His brows briefly drew together. “I’d like to apologize for last night. I was in a foul mood, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“The entire night was peculiar. Let’s forget it ever happened,” she offered.
“I’d like that.”
“You haven’t seen Ruarc, have you?”
The frown was back, more pronounced this time. “Actually, I haven’t.”
“He looked for you last night not long after you returned to the manor. I’d hoped to check on him this morning.” She left out exactly what she wanted.
“He might be tending to business,” Rordan offered.
Fianna hoped that was the case. One way or another, she had to track him down and persuade him to help her and Dorcha.
“Care to spar with me?”
She couldn’t stop the smile. “Absolutely.”
The minute she and Rordan stepped into the training ring, the others stopped their sparring and moved to the side. She noted the way several of the guards watched Rordan with excitement. For all she knew, he had already sparred with some of them. She was too seasoned to allow their expressions to mix up her emotions.
She and Rordan faced each other. She took up a defensive position with her knees bent and her left leg forward, her weight evenly distributed. Her arms were up near her face, hands fisted. With this pose, she could punch with her fists, or she could call up magic.
Rordan grinned at her. He stood casually as if waiting for her to make the first move. The next thing she knew, he attacked. He was fast—faster than anyone she had ever sparred with before. She blocked several of his moves, but he got in even more hits. What angered her was that she knew he was pulling his punches.