I Was Yours

“Dolan,” Ciaran began, and a hand came down on his shoulder.

Ciaran spun, drawing his sword in one motion, and found himself face-to-face with Eoghan.

“Da,” he said. Eoghan’s face darkened.

“Don’t speak to them. Stay with your own kind,” Eoghan said and shoved him.

Ciaran caught himself, sheathed his sword. “I was going to offer help –”

“Stay away!”

Ciaran felt anger twist in his chest, sensed fire tingling in his fingertips, and he had to force it back. “If I’m not one of your kind, why did you lie all those years and say I was yours?”