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Post by Kelathi on Jan 17, 2019 21:27:49 GMT
“Old bat? Old bat?” Minerva had only screeched louder, renewing her attempt to get past Rhea, who shot an annoyed look in Ciaran’s direction before stopping her. Upon seeing Cathal arrive, to Minerva’s credit, she fearlessly waved the spoon in his direction, next. “Now you stay away, bad kitty! She chastised, as if talking to a child rather than a huge, bloodied tiger. Meanwhile, Rhea tried to distract the woman. “How did you even know to come and find me?” It was not the first time the thief had just upped and left without a word, after all. The woman turned her attention from Cathal then, turning to Rhea but still sending a warning glance in Ciaran’s direction, refusing to let go of the spoon just yet.
“Everyone’s talking about it, you running through town, being chased by that wretch!” Her last point was illustrated by jabbing the spoon in Ciaran’s direction. When Rhea spoke again she let some of the tension unroll from her shoulders. The woman was working on rumours, so Rhea could tailor this to her advantage. “Minerva, you’ve got the wrong idea! I’m travelling with these two.” She explained, sweeping her arm towards her companions. Why she was not explaining about the tiara and the true circumstances of their deal was not immediately clear. “Minerva… this is Ciaran and Cathal. I know them. We have a deal and I’m travelling with them, that’s all.”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 17, 2019 21:45:15 GMT
Ciaran would likely chuckle at the old woman’s reaction to Cathal later, recalling the situation, but in the moment he was shooting as dark a glare back at Rhea as she had shot at him. The tiger’s ears had perked at having the spoon waved at him, looking to Rhea and Ciaran for help on what he was supposed to do. Ciaran had nothing to offer.
At being called a wretch, Ciaran’s expression grew annoyed, his first thought simply that she had been the one at fault for stealing from him in the first place… but he should have guessed that taking out those two men would have repercussions.
Before he could say a word, however, Rhea was trying to soothe the old woman’s ruffled feathers, claiming that they were travelling together. Not a word about the tiara, or the fact that she was a prisoner… there was enough curiosity in his eyes to let her play this game. Cathal followed Ciaran’s cue, letting Rhea speak before responding, tilting his head to one side.
“How do you do,” he said, his voice perfectly pleasant if still confused. “Perhaps Minerva can… join us for dinner? I have enough,” he added as a sort of peace offering, if nothing else to extend the appearance of a friendly group rather than two captors and a prisoner. Ciaran glanced at Cathal with some anger at inviting the broad to eat with them, but he knew it wasn’t a bad play. He did, however, let out a silent sigh; he could guess what Cathal had caught, then, knowing his love of beef. Like that wouldn’t be noticed as soon as it was light, if not sooner…
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Post by Kelathi on Jan 17, 2019 22:09:16 GMT
Minerva appeared unconvinced. This time, she pointed the spoon at Cathal. “Still your honeyed tongue, cat!” And seemed about to argue with Rhea again when she suddenly paused.
It was almost comical the way she looked at Cathal, Rhea, Cathal before resting her gaze at last on Rhea. She moved forward as if meaning to share a secret with the thief, but her voice was easily loud enough to be heard by the other two. “Rhea… did the cat just talk?”
Rhea smiled, knowing that judging by Minerva’s reaction, her anger had been sated. “Yes, Cathal can speak. And I don’t think he takes kindly to being referred to as a kitty.” She added, helpfully, just as quietly, or as loud as Minerva had been. The old woman paused, looked towards Cathal… and then lowered her spoon. “Well.” She began, clearly embarrassed. “I guess that changes things. Sorry.” She added. The situation clearly settling down, Rhea nodded towards the spoon. “So? Why the spoon? You couldn’t have grabbed the poker?” She asked, the humour evident in her tone. Minerva waved away the suggestion. “I didn’t have chance. I was cooking at the time when Helga came and told me what had happened.” Helga was an acquaintance of the old woman, by necessity rather than any actual fondness between the two. She was an endless supply of rumour.
“So…” Rhea began again, motioning towards the fire, the sweep of her hand encompassing Cathal and his quarry. Recalling the earlier invite to dinner, Minerva was quick to speak. “Oh no, I couldn’t do that. Thank you though,” She added, nodding towards Cathal, “…but I better be off and just let you… get on with things, I suppose.” Rhea smiled awkwardly, nodding in agreement that perhaps that would be wise. But before she left, Minerva did something that she very rarely did, and that clearly took the thief aback. She embraced her. This time, when she whispered, it was only heard by the person she intended to hear it. “Take care of yourself, minx.” Pulling back, she shot one more glare at Ciaran, raising the spoon threateningly one last time. “You better see her well!” She growled, as Rhea tried to gently coax her away. “I think he’s got the message Minerva…”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 17, 2019 22:38:56 GMT
“Oh, he loves being called a house cat too,” Ciaran added softly, not really intending to be heard. Cathal shot him a slightly annoyed glance for the hated “nickname” the assassin had used at first to try to keep him at bay, but only ever brought it up again when frustrated. Now was a very good example of one of those times.
At the woman’s uncertain apology, he smiled warmly at her - at least, as warmly as he could still covered in cow blood. Still watching carefully from the side, he could see the surprise in Rhea’s face at being embraced, finding it an interesting clue to who Rhea was, like she was a very complex puzzle. Ciaran’s reaction to the spoon being waved at him again was a look of outrage, but he thought better of trying to defend himself against the old woman, instead glaring at her as she left. See her well… hah!
As Minerva left, Cathal waited to see if anything would happen immediately after, including any attempt by Rhea to run given that she still had the tiara. When things were clearly settled, he went back into the trees only a few yards away, dragging out a full-sized cow that was almost too big for him to carry. Ciaran made a little groan at seeing the animal, but didn’t bother trying to argue with Cathal after the point, instead sheathing his sword and pulling out a hunting knife instead.
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Post by Kelathi on Jan 19, 2019 22:46:46 GMT
She was relieved when the other two [although lets be honest, mainly Ciaran] didn’t just speak out about Rhea’s true circumstances. To say she was mildly embarrassed was an understatement. Funnily enough, the source of her embarrassment was not the scene that Minerva had caused, but rather, Rhea’s response to it. It probably didn’t seem clear as to why she had decided to lie to the woman, especially when telling the truth might have garnered her some support should Minerva leave and tell others of her plight. The reason she hadn’t told Minerva was because not even she knew the true circumstances as to why Rhea could not just hand over the tiara. It was best she just avoid mentioning the issue altogether- this was not something she wanted to drag the woman into if she could help it.
Neither Ciaran nor Cathal questioned Rhea’s motives, at least not openly, and Rhea was hardly forthcoming with any explanation. Instead of moving back to the fire, where she had been sat before, she chose to sit a little further away, sitting on a stump. It was only a few feet from her position before, but it was perhaps notable that she was, consciously or not, putting a little more distance between herself and the other two.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 21, 2019 17:25:19 GMT
While questions were not voiced, they were certainly there. Ciaran had found himself rather surprised that Rhea claimed to be going with them willingly, and said nothing regarding the tiara. What else was she hiding?
Before long, the meat was roasting over the fire, spears pushed into the earth to hold the meat just over the flames, rather than trying to make a spit. Ciaran clearly had plenty of practice with such cooking methods, suggesting a life usually spent outdoors. Which didn’t hurt his ability to save up to buy something as expensive as land.
Rhea’s distance had earned a few suspicious as well as concerned glances, depending on the owner of the gaze, but as she made no move to run from her “companions” there was no effort made to keep her in check. Ciaran kept his distance from her, instead focusing on listening to their surroundings, not wanting an embarrassing repeat of being accosted by an old woman.
Cathal, meanwhile, decided to stand and walk over to Rhea after cleaning himself up, settling down next to her, one massive paw gently touching her leg, like a silent show of support. Without knowing why she would lie to someone so clearly close to her as Minerva, he knew something must heavily weigh on her. So even though he came close, and he was one of the larger reasons she couldn’t just run, his presence was not that of a guard, but comforting. He remained quiet, letting her decide if she wished to speak about her troubles, occasionally sniffing at the air, licking his chops as the meat came close to being done.
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 5, 2019 18:11:17 GMT
Not that she’d ever admit it, but Cathal’s close proximity proved to be comforting. She wasn’t sure why he chose to sit by her, but she was glad that he had anyhow, his presence calming her enough to be able to think more clearly.
“She means well.” She spoke suddenly. It was clear that her words were really meant for Cathal, as she made no effort to raise her voice for Ciaran. “I try not to drag her into things she doesn’t need to be a part of. That’s… you know, why I didn’t tell her what’s really going on.” After a short pause, she shrugged, meeting Cathal's gaze. "In case you were wondering." she explained. She stood by the idea that she did not need to explain herself, but even so, she felt as if Cathal, at least, should have some kind of explanation.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 6, 2019 2:46:17 GMT
Cathal’s ears pricked at Rhea’s words, the silence going long enough for him to assume she wouldn’t speak at all. Her uncertain explanation at the end made him smile, nodding a little. “She must be important to you, to protect her so,” he murmured, keeping his voice low with respect to the level she had used. He watched Ciaran tending the fire for a few minutes in silence, taking a deep breath before speaking again.
“He doesn’t mean ill, either,” he noted softly, his gaze moving to Rhea with a mix of worry for his cub, and a strange weariness from said worry. Somehow, Rhea’s perception of Ciaran was important to Cathal, not unlike how a father might defend his son’s behavior. Even though what he said weakened Ciaran’s position with their captive. “In spite of what he says, or may say, he isn’t going to turn you in. He isn’t heartless,” he explained, in part as if warning Rhea. “He just wants the reward for the tiara. Things will change once he has that money.” Clearly Cathal didn’t understand the value of the money, or fully understand what change Ciaran might have mentioned before.
What this confession made absolutely clear was that Cathal had no idea Ciaran intended to buy land to keep him safe. It was unlikely that the tiger would be so supportive of helping the assassin win this last reward just to separate them.
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 7, 2019 4:44:21 GMT
Rhea neither denied nor confirmed Cathal’s comment about Minerva, but privately, she was thinking back on the day she and the woman had first met. It had been many years ago now, and under circumstances thankfully far behind her… even if she did still carry the emotional scars from the events before that time, shadows of memories that still hounded her should she make the mistake of musing on them for too long, rather than pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind like she usually did. At the rest of his words, however, she remained unconvinced and unmoved. Her track record with men conflicted everything Cathal was claiming about Ciaran, and she had never yet met a man that had given her reason to respect or trust him. Her prejudices were too well ingrained to be washed away by well-meaning words, but even so, she smiled in response, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She didn’t want to argue with the tiger, especially when he clearly believed in what he was saying, so she responded with, “I’m sure you’re right,” before turning her face away as her expression darkened once more.
“Is it almost ready?” She had raised her voice a little them, clearly talking to Ciaran now as she enquired as to the status of the food. It was also a non-too-subtle indication that she wanted to leave the conversation with Cathal at that, further discussion into Ciaran’s character was something she was loathe to discuss with the tiger lest she say something she’d regret. It wasn’t meant as an indication to halt all conversation, however, and she would happily discuss something else should the tiger bring up a different subject.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 8, 2019 0:40:50 GMT
Cathal caught the odd tone in which Rhea responded, pausing and wondering if he had done the right thing in warning her. He’d seen how aggressively Ciaran would act, or pretend to be… but he’d also seen moments that belied his rough background, where there had been little room for gentle reasoning over often blind aggression. As she changed topics, Cathal let her, instead waiting to hear the hoped-for news.
Rhea’s call out to Ciaran had rather the opposite effect than she might have wanted, as his gaze moved up to her with narrowed eyes. “Wanna eat? You can pay.” Pay with what was crystal clear. So was Cathal’s little rumble, ears laid back and an annoyed glare shot at the assassin for the attempt. Unlike his powerful growls, this simply sounded frustrated, and was apparently a common enough noise that Ciaran merely offered a half smile, amused at the response his words earned.
Not that he was fully joking…
---
Two days after that night in the woods, with an early morning start to avoid the angry herders trying to find whoever stole a whole cow, and it was becoming clear that the assassin was not headed towards the palace. When prompted, his answer had been simple; better to first get the guaranteed reward instead of risking both.
So the fortress slowly rose in the distance before them, well fortified if luxuriously sprawled alongside the nearby town and dominating the landscape. The duke who owned the castle was known for his charitable attitude towards his serfs, a charismatic and compassionate man. All of that was thrown into doubt by Ciaran’s steady step towards the place, given what he had to trade. Perhaps most surprising was that Cathal walked steadily alongside. Rather than aim for the village, they headed towards the main gates, Rhea carefully kept between the two to keep her from getting any ideas.
The guards at the gate hesitated seeing the white tiger walking towards them, calling for their captain; ironically enough, the captain didn’t even show when told about the tiger, instead relaying orders that the duke’s “guests” should be shown through immediately. While waiting for the guards to relay the message, Ciaran’s hand had risen to gently rest against Rhea’s arm. This was not a touch of reassurance or interest, but a promise to stop her should she try anything without making an overt threat. The fact that he kept her status as a prisoner quiet was questionable, to say the least.
Walking across the drawbridge to the main building was uneventful, the group only earning a few curious looks for the massive white tiger. The lack of panic suggested that this hadn’t been the first time Cathal had been within the castle’s walls, making him a unique trait to recognize the assassin with. Instead of being left in one of the many front rooms, clearly used for impersonal meetings, they were guided straight to the dining room, richly decorated and filled with a massive table, clearly prepped for a meal. The chair at the head of the table was clearly the duke’s, so elaborately designed it might even be described as a throne.
The duke himself, however, was nowhere in sight. The women sitting at the table, most likely the duke’s family, turned to ogle at the newcomers, knowing better than to maintain eye contact for long. Ciaran, however, grew tense. He looked back as the guard began to leave the room, his tone dangerously void of emotion as he calmly asked, “Where is His Lordship?”
“Ah, is that Faolan I hear?” came the light hearted reply from the other end of the hall, the duke swanning in with a fur-lined robe and lavish garments, leaving his guards in his wake as he approached the group. “It is! It’s been ages since I last saw you, my boy, I almost thought you’d be late,” he began with a flourish, but it wasn’t the duke that Ciaran’s gaze hardened at, but rather the man following him, dressed in dark clothes and smiling with a smugness that made it easy to dislike him.
Until he met Ciaran’s eyes, that was. His smile fell instantly, becoming a nervous look instead. “My lord, what is this?” Ciaran asked, the duke smirking knowingly before turning back to the other, sounding innocent. “Oh, Fergus here came to tell me that he has dealt with our poor sheriff’s lack of… judgement,” the duke began, the twinkle in his eyes betraying his amusement at the very possible bloodshed that was about to occur before him.
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 8, 2019 22:22:50 GMT
Rhea had responded with shooting daggers in Ciaran’s direction, but as Cathal growled in her defence, she looked away from the man, and waved her hand nonchalantly. “It’s fine, Cathal.” She seemed un-phased at Ciaran’s attempt to vex her; after all, she had plenty of time to get him back. Her dark gaze flickered back over to the assassin, as she growled, “I’m not hungry.” As Ciaran prepared the food, fire suddenly sputtered out an unusually large amount of cinders onto his lap. Rhea’s mouth curled into a smile, but she didn’t comment on it as she looked away again.
***
She had noticed their diversion in their journey to the palace, knowing the quickest and easiest route to the palace like the back of her hand. Why were they suddenly travelling so far West? But she was unwilling to ask Ciaran, preferring to keep their spoken interaction to a minimum, and then, only to venomous quips. She figured they would find out, soon enough.
Upon seeing the fortress, Rhea’s heart had flipped. Just North of here, less than a day’s journey, was the place she wanted to be, the place she needed to take the tiara… She composed herself quickly, all too aware of how the emotions might have played on her face did she not move to stifle them, wistfulness before melting into a calculating look as she formulated a plan in her mind. She needed to split from the two here, but how? An added complication to her intentions was the fact that Cathal, instead of hiding, appeared to be coming with them. Clearly, both had been here before. As they waited to be let inside, Ciaran’s meaningful touch, and the underlying message, was clearly received. Rhea’s gaze merely darkened, reaching a hand up to his, and forcefully pushing it away as she stepped forwards, walking ahead a few paces. It was clearly a message back, that, although she was playing nice for now, he couldn’t really control what she chose to do. Back in step, they were led to the dining room, at which Rhea’s eyes lit up. So many treasures, clearly on display… it was as if this room had been made for her. She stayed her hands, however, clasping them firmly behind her back as if in anticipation of her wandering fingers.
As she watched the exchange, her gaze moved to Ciaran’s, watching the barely-concealed emotion play upon his face.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 9, 2019 4:36:04 GMT
It was not difficult to say that the look in Ciaran’s eyes showed Fergus had shown a lack of judgement for getting involved in his work. His arms crossed over his chest, but Rhea was really the only one who might notice his slight hesitation before settling into the posture.
His pocket was empty. Again. If she was wise, she’d hand it back over without any fuss in front of the two men.
“And what proof does Fergus have to show?” Ciaran asked, putting on a curious facade as he leveled his gaze at the intruder. The duke looked over with that same genteel smile, the same he might use at a dinner party while speaking to honored guests, making it all the more unsettling given the situation. The man squared his shoulders, lifting his chin up. “Is my word not good enough? Or do you have some sort of proof?” he challenged, regaining his smirk.
Ciaran looked at Rhea, holding out his hand. It took her a moment, but she put the chain of office in the outstretched hand. With a look that tried to be patient with her thieving fingers, he offered the chain to the duke, the blood splatter sharply visible against the green in the well lit room. Fergus paled a little as the duke lifted the chain out of Ciaran’s hand, his smirk fading quickly at the proof of the kill - both in chain and in blood.
“Well, it seems that Faolan has proof,” the duke began, walking once more towards the room he and Fergus had been in. The man sputtered finally, angry at being found out and unwilling to give up the game just yet. “Oh really? Who knows how he managed to take some cheap fake and splatter it. Is that even blood, or paint?” he half barked, the ladies at the table looking more and more uncomfortable at the revelation they had been politely ignoring. Ciaran finally left Rhea’s side, Cathal watching with growing concern at his cub’s anger as he approached the man, his height only making it easier to stare down the man. “You dare accuse me of lying?” he asked, as if that was a worse crime than the one he had actually committed.
“Wouldn’t be the first time one of you mercenaries tried to rip off honest men makin’ an honest livin’!”
The man’s defiance quickly fled as Ciaran’s hands grabbed the front of his clothes, bodily lifting him an inch off the floor. “I will give you one chance to rephrase that,” Ciaran growled, the duke laughing as he finally went to diffuse the situation. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, please… not in front of the ladies. My dears, would you excuse us?” he asked, the women more than happy to leave. “Now - ah, Faolan, let us speak civilly. And that means we should all have our feet on the ground.”
Fergus was unceremoniously dropped a few moments later, although he was clearly lucky to not be thrown. “Let us be honest, here,” the duke went on as the ladies finally left the room, taking a seat on the table before picking at some of the fruit that was left. “I contacted Faolan to help me with my dear old friend, who had been… causing some problems for myself and others. We made an agreement. He would take care of my problem, and I would reward his assistance heartily. We also agreed that there should be proof, this,” he added, lifting the chain up again, admiring the handiwork splashed across it, “The sheriff’s chain of office. And while it may be cheap, my dear Fergus… it is real. I recall when he received it… this is the genuine article.”
Fergus swallowed hard at the look the duke gave him now, taking a hesitant half step back. While Ciaran’s gaze promised a fight, the duke’s promised something far worse. With a regretful smile, the duke shook his head, carefully stacking the chain in his hand. “Fergus, my dear sir, I’m afraid it rather looks like you were trying to cheat me.”
“N-no, m’lord, I would never-“
“But the facts are here, right before us. Guards.” The last was said almost with boredom, as if expecting some betrayal and was simply disappointed to have it proven. Fergus moved back as he was quickly encircled by the guards, beginning to ramble as he begged for reconsideration, but the duke ignored such pleas as the man was dragged out. As the room became quiet again, he sighed, shaking his head a little before smiling warmly at Ciaran.
“My boy, you came not a moment too soon,” he said, standing with open arms. When Ciaran didn’t move, he shrugged, laughing. “You certainly have changed since I last paid you… I’m surprised I even had to have Fergus dealt with!” The duke laughed again, walking away towards the room once more. “Eh, no I’m not. Always an honorable one, you were. But you certainly have learned to stay your hand, hm?”
Ciaran’s silence didn’t bother the man, or even surprise him, showing how long the two had known each other. Cathal followed Ciaran to the door of the room, ears laid back, unhappy to be dealing with the man. A former soldier in the same army Ciaran had once been a part of… and a man who seemed to regret not making Ciaran any more cold in the face of death. “Here you go,” he said, taking a bag of coins out and showing Ciaran the contents before pulling on the cord, closing it with a little bounce to make the coins within jingle. “A generous reward for a generous favor. Are you sure I can’t interest you in a more… permanent position, Faolan?”
“Thank you, sir, but I’m satisfied with the one,” Ciaran finally answered, putting the bag into his clothes as he turned… and discovered something was amiss.
“Where is she?”
“Oh, your charming young lady? She left with the other ladies,” the duke answered casually, leaving without a farewell. Not that it would have been noticed, as Ciaran looked to Cathal before groaning, his hands clenching. “Bloody little thief,” he growled, storming out of the room as Cathal kept close on his heels, pausing only to scent the air. With so many human smells, it was harder to find Rhea’s amongst the mix, but he was greatly embarrassed. How had he managed to lose track of their prisoner?
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 9, 2019 22:12:37 GMT
Rhea whistled as she walked, following the servant girl as she led her to the stables. She could hardly have believed her luck as she made her departure with the ladies, at any point expecting Ciaran or Cathal to call out and stop her. But miraculously, both had been too distracted to pay her a second glance. The ladies themselves sent her a few curious glances as she followed them from the room, but otherwise paid her no heed as she split from the group. The first thing Rhea did was to seek out a servant- all it took was a lie about setting up her master’s horse, having forgotten the way to the stables… and the girl was leading her through the winding servant quarters. Although she was anxious to get moving and the urge to break into a run was great, she forced herself to be patient, knowing that this way was less likely to arouse suspicion and, besides, it was a faster way to the stables than blundering about randomly. Merely minutes later she was galloping away from the fortress, feeling the wind in her hair and the excitement of her escape.
They were sure to find her again, of course, Cathal’s tracking skills proving to be exemplary. She needed to put distance between them, and fast.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 13, 2019 0:30:12 GMT
Ciaran’s rush to the stables wasn’t as slow and patient as Rhea’s had been, knowing the route and not pretending to gain access. The guards hesitated as the duke called out to them to allow the assassin access to the horse he grabbed and mounted sharply, racing out the gates. Even so, the duke’s tone held a laugh at seeing the assassin having to track down a “bloody little thief.”
Cathal was close on the horse’s heels, which certainly helped with building up speed after the horse they could see up ahead, and were slowly starting to gain on.
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Post by Kelathi on Feb 13, 2019 0:57:58 GMT
Looking over her shoulder, she was not surprised, but was certainly annoyed to find the two on her tail so soon. Evidently, the duke had not kept them long after her departure, and they were sure to gain up soon. With the two of them, they had a good chance of cutting her off. Unless she gave them a reason not to.
All of a sudden, she pulled back on the reins, hard, the horse neighing and rearing as she did so. Turning them both round, for a moment, it was not entirely clear what Rhea was going to do, but now she was facing her racing pursuers. Her horse champed the grasses impatiently, perhaps noticing Cathal. Then, suddenly, Rhea lifted her arm, swinging it out and across, fingers spread open as if she was releasing something… which it seemed she was, as suddenly, a line of fire reared up between herself and her pursuers, angry and savage enough to not simply be crossed, and a long enough barrier that it would slow them to circle round it. Perhaps unseen to them, her eyes had flared a fierce golden colour at the release of the magic, as wild as the fire itself… The fire springing abruptly from the earth was enough to cause her horse to rear again, then both horse and rider were thundering off again into the distance.
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