“Bring her in,” said the man in the robes.
The guard set me on one of the benches. The heavy scent of incense left my stomach rolling and head spinning.
The man in the robes motioned toward the door. “Leave us, my son.”
The guard’s boots scuffed against the stones. The door closed and the lock engaged.
The priest raised his head. Beneath his hood, his golden eyes glowed.
The moment I’d seen his hulking figure, I’d known who he was. “Hello, pooka.”
“Hello, human.”
Ruairi withdrew a set of keys from his pocket to unlock my shackles. The metal clattered to the ground. From beneath the altar, he removed a white shift and black robes similar to his own. “Change into these and give me yer dress.”
Choking on my tears of relief, I reached an unsteady hand for the garments. “I . . . I don’t think I can.”
He was over me in an instant, working the buttons free, tugging the dress down my body, and replacing it with the soft, warm shift. “I can’t carry ye out of here,” he said, wrapping the black robes around my shoulders. “Ye need to walk. Think ye can do that for me?”
I nodded. I’d find the strength somewhere.
“There’s a girl. Let’s put this up.” He drew the hood to cover my hair, tucking the ends inside.
After draping the dress and manacles over the bench, he tugged up his own hood and pounded on the door.
A key scraped the lock, and the door opened. Ruairi yanked the guard in by his iron breastplate, slamming his head against the stones. There was only one left on the other side—his eyes glowing and green.
Tadhg.
He held a finger to his lips. I nodded. I could do this. I could keep silent.
Keeping a hand on my elbow, he escorted me to the entrance and out into the clear sunlight.
A crowd had gathered around a raised wooden platform. The executioner waited, a black mask concealing his face. Tadhg led me in the opposite direction, toward a line of busy shops. I tried to ignore the whispers, the slurs, the speculation, hating every single person who had come to watch me die.
Tadhg didn’t stop until we reached the entrance to a pub. Instead of going inside the main bar, he brought me to a skinny set of stairs off the entry, leading to a small, empty apartment with colorful cushions piled on the floor in front of the hearth.
Tadgh hurried to the window to draw the heavy curtains closed, casting the space in darkness. I was in such a sorry state, I didn’t want to touch the pristine cushions or the sofas.
“Stay in here,” he commanded. “I need to make sure Ruairi gets out before we leave.”
“Where’s Rían?”
Tadhg’s gaze darted to the curtains. “Promise me you’ll stay away from the window.”
“Tadhg? Where’s Rían?”
His expression hardened. “Rían is gone.”
Gone? He couldn’t be gone. That jail cell couldn’t be the last time I saw Rían. It couldn’t.
The moment Tadhg left, I dropped onto the rug at the far side of the sofa. A collective roar lifted from the square. I shouldn’t look out the window.
What if I peeked? Just to be sure everything was all right? Barely lifting the edge of the curtain, I peered through the grimy pane. The crowd filled the entire square from the cathedral to the pubs. Men and women in finery, servants, and even children waited in the sunshine.
People began to cheer when the door to the jail opened.
I expected to see soldiers pouring out, weapons drawn, desperate to find their fugitive.