“Dorcha,” his father said, a note of warning in his tone.
Dorcha glanced at his father to see him shake his head slightly, a silent plea in his gaze. When Dorcha’s eyes slid back to Hemming, the Light was grinning as if he knew something Dorcha didn’t. This situation was nothing as Dorcha had expected. Not at all where he’d thought to find himself. “What’s going on?”
Fearghal answered. “They found out.”
Dorcha’s stomach fell to his feet as icy fingers of panic squeezed him. He swallowed, the sound painfully loud, even to him. They had been so careful. There was no way the Others could have discerned anything. But he couldn’t say any of that to his father. Not now, at least.
“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Dorcha finally said.
Hemming released a loud sigh. “By lying, you will only prolong your torment.”
Torment? That sounded suspiciously like something that would lead to his death. And if Dorcha feared one thing above anything, it was dying.
Instead of replying to that, he looked around. “Where is Borgar?”
“My colleague is searching for your sister. This is the last time the O’Hannon family attempts a coup. We’re wiping you all from existence.”
Dorcha began to regret not going with Rordan. Perhaps the two of them could have teamed up and fought the Others. Though, really, it would’ve just been Rordan. Dorcha knew his weaknesses, and fighting was at the top. He was better at manipulation. Just as he had manipulated his sister all these years.
He shifted his feet as Hemming stared at him dispassionately. His father kept his eyes trained on the ground, leaving Dorcha to deal with…everything. Finally, Borgar arrived. The two leaders traded looks before they turned to Dorcha.
“Where is she?” Borgar demanded.
Dorcha shrugged at the Dark leader. “I’ve been looking for her since this morning. She’s not on the estate.”
“She’s never far from you,” Hemming said. “She’s here, and we will find her.”
Borgar walked to him, stopping so close that Dorcha had to lean back to keep their bodies from touching. The Dark’s red eyes blazed with revulsion. “You disgust me. You’ve always believed your family was better than anyone else. You had a place with us. But it wasn’t enough. You had to reach for more.”
“I was following orders,” Dorcha hastily said. He detested the coward that he was, but in the end, he had to look out for himself. No one else would.
Borgar clasped his hands behind his back and looked over his shoulder at Hemming. “Isn’t that something? Your father said the same thing. Except he told us he was following your orders.”
Dorcha was so taken aback, he jerked his head to his father. “You bastard.”
There was no response from Fearghal.
Borgar chuckled and leaned forward until his nose was all but touching Dorcha’s. Then he said in a soft voice, “Two fekking cowards. Neither of you have the balls to admit the truth.”
“What do you want? I’ll give you anything if you’ll allow me to live. I’ll serve you however is needed,” Dorcha begged.
Borgar’s lip lifted in a sneer as he gave him a scathing look. “You can’t give us what we’re really after.”
“What might that be?” Dorcha tried to make his voice stop shaking, but it was impossible since he was quite literally staring death in the face.
“Reapers.”
Dorcha blinked at Borgar. “I–I have handed you those I think could be a Reaper.”
“You’re an imbecile.”
“The Reapers are a myth.”
Hemming shoved Fearghal onto his knees. “Let’s get on with this.”
When Borgar reached for him, Dorcha jerked away, lifting his hands in front of him as he did. “Wait. Wait. You wanted powerful families. One of the most powerful is here tonight. Two generations. Renault and Rordan Dovecoat. Everyone knows who the Dovecoats are, even the Dark.”
“Having that family in our organization could be beneficial,” Hemming said.
To Dorcha’s surprise, Borgar dropped his hand and studied him. “Bring them to us, but don’t think this will give you much of a reprieve. Your family will pay for your treachery.”
“I understand,” Dorcha said with a bow of his head.
But all the while, he was planning how he could get himself free. The Others wanted payment because he and his father had attempted to take over the organization. He and his da might have reached a little too high, but in order to succeed, you first had to try. Dorcha realized they may have taken a few too many risks. A mistake he wouldn’t make again.
“First,” he said in a low voice so his father couldn’t hear him, “you should know the truth.”
Borgar shot him a bored look. “And what might that be?”
“It wasn’t my father who ran things. Or me. It was my sister, Fianna. The fact that she isn’t here speaks volumes.”
Borgar’s red eyes narrowed. “Is that right?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you. We were following directions. Fianna is a tyrant. She takes a backseat and gives the appearance of submission, but that isn’t the truth. I can bring her to you so you can get the truth out of her.”
Borgar motioned Hemming over. The two of them exchanged quiet words before Hemming faced Dorcha with his arms crossed over his chest. “And why should we believe you?”
“Because I want what I’ve always wanted, to be a part of the Others. I want to see change in the Fae, and I know the Others can do it. My father and I were trapped. He got away from my mother, but he had no idea that Fianna would grow up to be just like her. She has her eye on a leadership role with the Others, and she won’t stop until she gets it. I have no reason to lie to you about this.”
Hemming twisted his lips in disgust. “You’re turning on your family?”
“Because I’m looking at the bigger picture here,” Dorcha said. “The future of the Fae, governed by the Others.”
Borgar rolled his eyes. “You and Fearghal blamed each other at first. Why should we believe you now?”
“We fear Fianna. You have no idea who she really is. And if a Fae like my father is terrified of her, that should say something.”
The Light and Dark leaders exchanged a look. Dorcha held his breath and kept the smile from showing. He saw his words had swayed them. Once more, his silver tongue would save the day.
“Bring her to us,” Borgar stated. “We’ll decide what to do with all of you once we hear from her.”
“The Dovecoats and the Fae you suspect is a Reaper, as well,” Hemming added.
Dorcha licked his lips. “That will be easy enough since he’s a Dovecoat.”
Borgar slapped him upside the head. “The Reapers are a group, you idiot.”
Dorcha wanted to tell them to go find the Reapers themselves, but he bit back the words as he turned on his heel and left to retrieve Fianna. He had no intention of bringing Rordan to the Others. He would watch as Fianna killed him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rordan looked down on the Others and Dorcha from his perch high above them in the trees. He debated moving lower and alerting them that someone was there. But he didn’t. He remained where he was, straining to hear their whispered words.