Rordan rushed to Renault as his father dropped to his knees, his hands over his wound. Rordan caught his father as he pitched backward. He glanced at the damage and realized there was nothing that could be done. It was a fatal injury.
“Shite,” he ground out helplessly.
Renault shook his head. “It’s my fault. I should’ve remained hidden. I…I gave him a target.”
Rordan’s throat clogged at the sound of his father’s gasping voice. “I should’ve made sure Hemming couldn’t harm anyone else.”
“You’re a Reaper?” Renault asked, hope filling his eyes.
Rordan knew there would be hell to pay later with Death, but his father was dying. What was the harm? “I died just as my sisters claimed. I’ve been a Reaper all this time.”
“This mi–might mean little now, but I’m proud of you. And I’m so sorry for how things ended with us. I–I should’ve been a better father.”
“Save your breath. You’re going to need it,” Rordan said.
He was used to death since he reaped souls. But this was different. This was his father slowly dying in his arms. He had hated his family for so long, but none of that mattered now. Maybe it had been his da’s apology. Perhaps Rordan had gotten over it long ago. Whatever the reason, the hate no longer resided in him.
Renault lifted a blood-soaked palm. Rordan glanced at it before he clasped it with his fingers.
“My son. You are everything I hoped you would be and more.”
Then, with one last smile, his father breathed his last. Rordan’s throat clogged with emotion as his vision swam. He stayed until Renault’s body began to turn to ash. Only when the last bit drifted through the air did Rordan climb to his feet.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Fianna!”
She sighed, wishing she could shut out Dorcha’s voice. He sounded frantic. She couldn’t help but think that’s exactly how he should sound after everything he and their father had done to her.
“It’s Rordan. He’s hurt. Badly. He told me about the two of you. I really think you should come.”
The cup of tea fell from her numb fingers. It crashed onto the wooden floor, startling her. Fianna stared down at the fragments. They looked similar to what her heart would feel like if she lost Rordan.
You promised Rordan you’d remain behind.
But what if he was wounded?
Wouldn’t he call for you himself?
“What if he can’t?” she asked.
Fianna rose on shaky legs. Promise or not, if someone had injured Rordan , she wanted to be there with him. She could deal with Dorcha later. What mattered was Rordan.
Without a second thought, she jumped to Moorehall, following the sound of her brother’s voice.
Rordan turned to help Xaneth because the Reapers needed Borgar. The royal had his back to Rordan as he and the Dark fought. Rordan only got two steps in before Xaneth tore the Dark apart—literally. Shock reverberated through Rordan at the brutality, the savagery of the violence. He stayed where he was, instinct telling him to remain quiet.
Xaneth’s shoulders rose as he drew in a deep breath. Then he looked at Rordan, their gazes meeting. Rordan was taken aback at the emptiness he saw within Xaneth’s silver depths. The royal Fae looked Rordan up and down and started to walk away.
“Wait, Xaneth,” Rordan called.
The Fae halted, turning his head to the side. “You want no part of me.”
“I’m a friend. We’ve been looking for you.”
“You would be better to forget you ever knew me.”
Rordan knew he had to get Xaneth to stay. “Erith wishes to speak with you.”
His brows drew together as he said something under his breath, and then he vanished.
Rordan didn’t get a chance to chase him as three Others rushed into the clearing right for him. The three swarmed him, attacking him. He got in several good hits of magic—as well as fists. Then, suddenly, one of the Others went down. Rordan got a glimpse of Aisling before she went after another of the attackers. Within moments, both Others were dead.
“We need one alive,” Rordan said, out of breath.
Aisling shrugged a shoulder. “Then we better tell the rest of the gang.”
She headed toward the manor as Rordan ran deeper into the forest.
“Where is he?” Fianna asked as she looked around for Rordan.
Dorcha simply stared at her.
Fianna tamped down her rising anger. “Dorcha? Where is Rordan?”
“So, it’s true. I took a guess, and it’s true.”
She frowned at the note of hostility in her brother’s voice. “What of it? Did you think I wouldn’t find out about you and Lewis?”
“Who cares about him? I asked you a question.”
“You can go bugger yourself. I don’t answer to you or Da any longer.”
Dorcha snorted. “Oh, you’re going to be answering to someone all right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She shook her head, unable to believe she’d allowed herself to fall into the trap of fighting with Dorcha like they used to. “Forget it. I don’t care. Tell me where Rordan is.”
Dorcha merely stared at her as if she were some grotesque thing.
“It was a lie.” She should’ve known. If Rordan had been injured, he would’ve called for her himself if he wanted her, just like her subconscious had warned. Had she wanted to see him so badly that she would fall for any lie? Apparently.
She couldn’t believe she had been so naïve.
“I’m done with you, with Da, with this family. Don’t call for me again because I won’t come,” she told Dorcha.
“You owe us.”
Fianna jerked back, surprised at her brother’s words. “What?”
“You owe us. Me.”
“You’re delusional. I’m not going to discuss this anymore.”
She turned to leave, but he grabbed her hand, halting her. “Oh, you’re going to listen as I remind you of your place.”
Rordan had already come upon Cathal, who had taken out the Other he’d been fighting. Now he, Aisling, and Cathal tried to get to the other Reapers to stop them from killing the final Others.
As Rordan rushed through the forest, he spotted motion through the trees. Thinking it might be an Other, he slowed and raised his veil to get closer. Then he heard Fianna’s voice. Rordan’s blood ran cold.
He jumped to her. He reached for her at the same time he saw Dorcha. Everything moved in slow motion as Fianna kicked her brother, her foot landing in his chest. Dorcha’s hold loosened, and he stumbled backward. Fianna tried to teleport out, but Dorcha threw a net at her. The silver net spread wide.
Fianna was quick and spun around, but the webbing tripped up her feet. She fell forward as Rordan lowered his veil, the same instant Dorcha thrust a dagger into Fianna’s back.
A roar left Rordan, shattering the slow-motion events. Dorcha’s head snapped to him. Without a thought, Rordan withdrew two of his knives and sank them into Dorcha’s neck. Then Rordan fell to his knees beside Fianna to gently turn her over and gather her into his arms.