They used fire, tipping arrows with flame, and still, nearly a quarter of their number were killed or wounded before the demons fell back.

“Take that one alive.” Lilith delicately wiped blood from her lips. “I promised Lora a gift.” She smiled down at Davey who stood over the body of the soldier he’d killed. It swelled pride in her that her boy had continued to feed even when troops had dragged the body, with the prince clinging to it, away from the battle.

Davey’s eyes were red and gleaming, and his freckles stood out like gold against the rosy flush the blood had given his cheeks.

She picked him up, held him high over her head. “Behold your prince!”

The troops who hadn’t been destroyed in the brief battle knelt.

She lowered him to kiss him long and deep on his mouth.

“I want more,” he said.

“Yes, my love, and you’ll have more. Very soon. Toss that thing on a horse,” she ordered with a careless gesture toward Tynan’s body. “I have a use for it.”

She mounted, then held out her arms so that Davey could leap into them. With her cheek rubbing against his hair, she looked down at Midir.

“You did well,” she said to him. “You can have your choice of the humans, for whatever purposes you like.”

The moonlight shone on his silver hair as he bowed. “Thank you.”

M oira stood in the brisk wind and watched dragons and riders circle overhead. It was a stunning sight, she thought, and would have sent her heart soaring under any other circumstances. But these were military maneuvers, not spectacle.

Still, she could hear children calling out and clapping, and more than a few of them pretending they were dragon or rider.

She smiled a greeting when her uncle strode over to watch beside her. “You’re not tempted to fly?” she asked him.

“I leave it for the young—and the agile. It’s a brilliant sight, Moira. And a hopeful one.”

“The dragons have lifted the spirits. And in battle, they’ll give us an advantage. Do you see Blair? She rides as if she was born on the back of one.”

“She’s hard to miss,” Riddock murmured as Blair drove her mount toward the ground at a dizzying speed, then swept up again.

“Are you pleased she and Larkin will marry?”

“He loves her, and I can think of no other who suits him so well. So aye, his mother and I are pleased. And will miss him every day. He must go with her,” Riddock said before Moira could speak. “It’s his choice, and I feel—in my heart—it’s the right choice for him. But we’ll miss him.”

Moira leaned her head against her uncle’s arm. “Aye, we will.”

She would be the only one to remain, she thought as she went inside again. The only one of the first circle who would remain in Geall after Samhain. She wondered how she would be able to bear it.

Already the castle felt empty. So many had already gone ahead, and others were busy with duties she’d assigned. Soon, very soon, she would leave herself. So it was time, she determined, to write down her wishes in the event she didn’t return.

She closed herself in her sitting room and sat to sharpen her quill. Then changed her mind and took out one of the treasures she’d brought back with her from Ireland.

She would write this document, Moira determined, with the instrument of another world.

She’d use a pen.

What did she have of value, she wondered, that wouldn’t by rights belong to the next who ruled Geall?

Some of her mother’s jewelry, certainly. And this she began to disburse in her mind between Blair and Glenna, her aunt and cousin, and lastly, her ladies.

Her father’s sword should be Larkin’s, she decided, and the dagger he’d once carried would go to Hoyt. The miniature of her father would be her uncle’s if she died before him, as her father and uncle had been fast friends.

There were trinkets, of course. Bits of this and that which she gave thought to bequesting.

To Cian she left her bow and quiver, and the arrows she’d made with her own hand. She hoped he’d understand that these were more than weapons to her. They were her pride, and a kind of love.

She wrote it all carefully, sealed it. She would give the document to her aunt for safekeeping.

She felt better having done it. Lighter and clearer in her mind somehow. Setting the paper aside, she rose to face the next task. Moving back into the bedroom, she crossed to the balcony doors. The drapes still hung there, blocking the light, the view. And now she drew them back, let the soft light spill through.

In her mind’s eye she saw it again, the dark, the blood, the torn body of her mother and the things that mutilated her. But now she opened the door and made herself walk through them.

The air was cool and moist, and overhead the sky was full of dragons. Streaks and whirls of color riding the pale blue. How her mother would have loved the sight of them, loved the sound of the wings, the laughter of the children in the courtyard below.

Moira walked to the rail, laid her hands on it and felt the sturdy stone. And standing as her mother had often done, she looked out over Geall, and swore to do her best.

S he might have been surprised to know that Cian spent a large portion of his restless day doing what she had done. His lists of bequests and instructions were considerably longer than hers and minutely more detailed. But then he’d lived considerably longer and had accumulated a great deal.

He saw no reason for any of it to go to waste.

A dozen times during the writing of it he cursed the quill and wished violently for the ease and convenience of a computer. But he kept at it until he believed he’d spread his holdings out satisfactorily.

He wasn’t certain it could all be done as some of it would be up to Hoyt. They’d speak about it, Cian thought. If he could count on anything, he could count on Hoyt doing everything in his considerable power to fulfill the obligation Cian meant to give him.

All in all, he hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. A thousand years of existence didn’t mean he was ready to give it up. And he damn well didn’t intend to go to hell until he’d sent Lilith there before him.

“You were always one for business.”

He pushed to his feet, drawing his dagger in one fluid motion as he turned toward the sound of the voice. Then the dagger simply fell out of his limp fingers.

Even after a millennium, there can be shocks beyond imagining.