His thoughts halted when Dorcha sauntered into the room. He didn’t wear his easy smile from the earlier meetings. This time, it was forced, cold—just as his eyes were. Rordan had a feeling this was the real Dorcha. The other was merely an act, something that got him what he and his father wanted.
In a blink, Dorcha had his mask properly in place as he greeted his overeager guests. There were more people than before. Rordan recognized a few who had stayed overnight, but there were another twenty he didn’t know. He turned to make his way to a quiet corner to observe the room when his eyes met ones he hadn’t seen in years. His stomach dropped to his feet as he stared into the face of his father.
“Rordan? Is that really you?”
He heard the disbelief in his da’s voice, even as he tried to think of something to say, some lie to give.
Renault walked to him as he looked Rordan over. “Son. I-I thought you were dead.”
Rordan noticed how his father had aged. Despite the lines upon his face, Renault still appeared as regal as ever. Rordan kept his voice low as he said, “You need to leave this place. Immediately.”
“I won’t. Not now that I’ve seen you. Look, son, I know some harsh things were said—”
Rordan wrapped a hand around his father’s arm to lead him out and then leaned in close to whisper, “Now isn’t the time for such talk. You need to leave right now. This has nothing to do with us or the past.”
“Renault!”
Rordan briefly closed his eyes when he heard Dorcha call out his father’s name. The time for his father’s escape might very well have passed.
“Well, well, well,” Dorcha said as he stopped before them. He looked from Rordan to Renault. “I see the resemblance now. Rordan, why didn’t you tell me you were a Dovecoat?”
Rordan dropped his hand from his father’s arm and faced Dorcha. “Personal preference.”
Dorcha stared at him, a smirk forming. “It seems there is a lot about you I didn’t know.”
“I could say the same.”
Dorcha’s confidence faltered as his brows snapped together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m just wondering what everyone would think if they knew who you really were.”
“They know who I am.”
It was Rordan’s turn to grin. “Do they? So, they know your surname as I do?”
The tension in the room ramped up. Rordan could see his father looking between him and Dorcha. Thankfully, his father kept his mouth shut. Those around them had taken note that something was amiss. More and more of Dorcha’s guests turned their attention to the three of them.
Rordan kept his expression impassive, though he was anything but. The jolt he’d felt at discovering his father had sent him for a loop. That, on top of his anger at Dorcha, had Rordan tied in knots. He was a warrior, a Fae of action. He wanted to attack, to do something. Remaining still and keeping quiet were the most difficult things he had done.
Finally, Dorcha bowed his head, giving the moment to Rordan. But that’s all it would be. Rordan suspected the instant he tried to get his father out, they would be stopped. This was one issue Rordan had never thought to have.
“I’ll leave,” Renault whispered.
Rordan shook his head as he faced his father. “That ship has sailed.”
“What do you need me to do?”
Rordan was taken aback by the fact that his father would ask him that. He studied his da’s face, searched his eyes, but found nothing disparaging. “Stick with me and do everything I say.”
“I can do that.” Renault took a drink of wine as he looked over the rim of the glass to the other guests. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“Not really. It isn’t good, though.”
“I pieced that together fairly quickly.” There was a beat of silence. “You look good, son. I’d like to make up for the past, if you’ll allow me.”
Rordan turned his head away. At one time, he would’ve given anything to hear those words. But now? He wasn’t the same person he had once been. Being betrayed by one’s sisters and getting killed tended to change someone drastically.
“I’ll do anything,” Renault said.
Rordan swung his gaze back to his father. “There are somethings that can’t be fixed.”
“I was a fool. I turned into my father, the very thing I swore I would never do. When your mother was killed, I lashed out. It was inexcusable. When I finally came to my senses days later, your sisters told me you had died.”
“Did they tell you how?”
Renault’s black brows furrowed as he blinked in confusion. “They said you were attacked.”
“Hmm.”
“Obviously, your sisters were wrong.”
Rordan didn’t reply. He could’ve lied, but he chose to remain silent instead.
“I see you hold many secrets,” Renault murmured.
Rordan glanced at the floor and shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone?”
His father started to answer, but Dorcha interrupted as he called for everyone’s attention. Rordan remained at the back of the room while everyone else moved forward to see Dorcha better. Renault stayed with him. Dorcha climbed up onto the stage, his gaze meeting Rordan’s. There was a confrontation coming. Rordan had been looking forward to it, but now that his father was there, it could complicate things. At least, Fianna was safely away.
“Tonight is cause for celebration,” Dorcha said with a smile.
The occupants of the room cheered, but Rordan knew it would be anything but.
Chapter Nineteen
The location of the cottage was spectacular. Fianna stood outside on the cliffs and watched the majesty and mayhem of the sea. She’d spent the entire day with just her thoughts.
And there was much she needed to think about.
She had walked along the cliffs, basking in the sea air. No roads or other dwellings were near, which afforded her all the privacy she wanted. She had been surprised that the cottage had no wards. Setting them was something a Fae did the moment they stepped into a location they spent time in. But not Rordan.
That in and of itself confused her because she knew him to be an intelligent warrior. He studied people and places. He contemplated his attacks instead of being hasty. So why not put up wards? She didn’t linger on that for long. The beauty of the place pulled her away from such worries and forced her thoughts inward.
Fianna couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much time to herself. It really did feel as if she had thrown off the shackles. She felt almost as light as a feather. But in the same instance, she was weighed down by the past and her part in it.
One by one, she went through her questions and tugged on the connecting threads. She delved deeply into memories she had forgotten. She looked at her life before her father had stepped in. And…she let herself drudge up every memory she had of her mother.
By the time Fianna finished, she was mentally and emotionally shattered. She lay back on the grass and watched the sky turn from pale blue to gray to black. Her internal struggles had resulted in her accepting the past because she couldn’t change it. They had also helped her come to decisions regarding the present—and the future.