“I agree, but it wasn’t my call.” Eoghan sighed loudly. “The only way Rordan is able to complete his mission is if he’s there alone. He’s navigating a minefield.”
“Which is why someone should be there to watch his back.”
Eoghan might think otherwise, but he would obey Death. “We know from Dubhan that the Fae Others like to make sure there isn’t anyone veiled around them. If they find you, Rordan could lose whatever ground he’s managed to gain.”
A muscle ticked in Torin’s jaw. “I know Rordan can take care of himself. It’s just…well…”
“We’re a family,” Eoghan finished for him. “I know. I understand how you feel. There used to be only seven Reapers. Now there are fifteen.”
They both looked at Balladyn. There were only seven Reapers in each team. Eoghan had asked Death what she planned to do with Balladyn, but she hadn’t answered him. That could mean she wasn’t ready to divulge her plans. Or that she didn’t know.
“Rordan will be fine,” Torin said and walked away.
Eoghan wasn’t sure if Torin said it to convince himself or Eoghan. With one last look toward the west, Eoghan began searching for clues to find Xaneth.
Chapter Eighteen
The promise Rordan had made Fianna was forefront in his mind when he returned to Moorehall. There was still no sign of Ruarc, which concerned him. Everything around the manor appeared as it had when he and Fianna had departed.
Rordan casually walked through the house, nodding at those he passed. He turned a corner to head out a back entrance to the forest for another look around for Ruarc, when someone stepped in his way. He drew up short and found none other than Dorcha.
“Where is she?” the Fae demanded.
“Who?”
“Don’t play the idiot. You know of who I speak.”
Rordan clasped his hands behind his back as he noted Dorcha’s sweaty brow and the tightness around his mouth. Fianna wanted Rordan to tell her brother the truth, but Rordan knew that was a bad idea. “Perhaps if you told me a name.”
“My sister,” Dorcha said between clenched teeth, spittle flying from his mouth.
Rordan looked down at his shirt and calmly wiped away the droplets of spit. Only then did he raise his gaze to Dorcha. “Why would you think I know anything about your sister?”
“Because you were gone last night.”
“And how would you know that?”
Dorcha’s nostrils flared in fury. “Where’s Fianna.”
“I have no idea.”
“You’re lying.”
Rordan shrugged, his lips twisting. “Believe what you wish.” He started to move around Dorcha when the Fae blocked him.
“I could have you killed.”
Rordan glared at Dorcha. He would like nothing more than for Dorcha to attack so Rordan could punch him in the face. But that wasn’t going to happen. Dorcha wasn’t a fighter. He had people who did his dirty work for him.
He took a step closer to Dorcha and lowered his voice. “Give it your best shot.”
“Wanker,” Dorcha mumbled beneath his breath as he walked around Rordan.
Rordan watched Dorcha’s departing back until he was out of sight. Only then did Rordan go outside. He leisurely strolled the area, but he was on full alert. Rordan took note of where the guards were and if anyone looked out of place. It was a testament to Fianna’s management that the guards didn’t miss a beat in her absence. They knew exactly what to do. Unfortunately, none of them stood a chance against the Others.
The hours dragged on. Rordan kept his gaze on the passage of the sun. The Fae had told Dorcha they would return that night, and Rordan took that literally. One look confirmed that as Dorcha grew increasingly more agitated with each passing minute.
Rordan had no wish to attend the final meeting that evening, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He changed into evening attire as was requested and gave himself a few moments alone in his chamber. He wasn’t afraid of the Others, but he wasn’t a fool either. The organization needed to be stopped before they got more of a foothold, and in order to do that, he needed the rest of the Reapers. The instant he saw the Others, he would call out to Eoghan so the Reapers could take them on.
Rordan’s walk around the estate hadn’t been just to pass the time. He had scouted locations where he thought the Others might attack. A couple of sites were prime for just such an event. They were close to the manor but gave whoever held the position an advantage. No doubt the Others had already surveyed those locales, as well.
He smiled and imagined their faces as the Reapers surrounded them. It would all have to be done delicately, though. No one at the manor could know of the Reapers’ existence. It wouldn’t be the first time the Reapers had fought in front of Fae.
Rordan slowly released a breath as the last light of the sun disappeared behind the mountains. He adjusted the sleeves of his shirt beneath his jacket and turned on his heel to exit his room. As he walked down the corridor, he heard yelling coming from Dorcha’s chamber as the Fae shouted at someone about finding Fianna. Rordan hoped that she kept her promise and remained at the cottage. Once this business with Dorcha and the Others was dealt with, he would get permission from Death to tell Fianna who he really was.
He knew Fianna held some affection for him. He wasn’t sure how much, but he was willing to wait. He’d gone his entire life up to that point without her. Knowing that he had found her made it easier to wait—however long was needed for her to decide if she wanted him. The problem was that he wasn’t sure Erith would authorize it if there was a chance that Fianna might not choose him. The secrecy of the Reapers was paramount.
That secret and a Reaper falling in love had nearly destroyed the first group. It had fractured them, with one Reaper killing others until Death stepped in. Bran had been banished to another realm but had managed to find his way back. And when he did, he’d made it his mission to annihilate the Reapers—and even Erith herself.
Bran had almost succeeded, but he hadn’t counted on Death’s and Cael’s love for each other. That entire tragedy had opened Erith’s eyes to what her Reapers needed. She relaxed the no-mates rule, but it was still a delicate situation. Because at the end of the day, no one could know about the Reapers.
Rordan ran his hand down his face as he reached the bottom of the stairs. The din of conversation pulled him to the dining room. As he stepped inside, he thought back to just a few nights earlier when he had seen Fianna out of her uniform. How he wished she were with him now.
He strode to the liquor station and ordered a whisky. As he took a drink, he surveyed the room. There were many similarities between the Fae and the mortals of the planet. There were many more differences, however. Some humans might think the Fae mimicked them with their social classes, servants, and such. But the truth was that the Fae had had all of that eons before the mortals ever came to this realm. That parallel was what made it easy for the Fae to fit in with the humans.
Rordan wished the other Reapers were there. Not because he wasn’t capable of handling a fight, but because he couldn’t stand the pomp and circumstance flouted so abundantly during dinners like this. It reminded him too much of his childhood and everything that he had run from.