“You don’t want to leave too much of your blood lying around in these parts. Unseelie’s magic is blood magic.” Duff peered at Lorcan. “Though I suppose you know that, don’t you, mate?”
Lorcan stiffened. “I’m not a follower of Unseelie. I know nothing of the sort.”
“That’s good then,” Duff said. “We aren’t big fans of him here either, at least not in Oxgrove. The rest of the realm though?” Duff shook his head. “Well, that’s why we’ve got to get rid of this blood.”
Frowning, Lorcan pulled the crimson tunic over his head and tossed it onto the round wooden table they indicated. “What exactly would they do with it?”
“A great many a thing, I’m afraid. They could use her face as an illusion or find her no matter where she might go. But worst of all, they could use her blood to control her and make her do whatever they damn wanted.” Duff grabbed the tunic, strode over to the hearth, and tossed it inside. The flames engulfed the fabric, burning away the blood. Fear squeezed Lorcan’s heart. He’d never heard of such a thing, but admittedly, he’d purposefully avoided anything that involved the Unseelie god. He’d never wanted to know, and this was why. Unseelie was the god of monstrous things.
A small quiet voice whispered in his mind. A voice he had not heard in a great many years. It was the voice of his mark. You are right, Prince Lorcan Rothach. I am.
20
Reyna
The sweet scent of fresh grass, the salt of the sea, and spring flowers drifted into Reyna’s nose. She drew a deep breath into her lungs, sighing in contentment. She was warm but not too hot. There was no wind to speak of, and she could feel the soft, calming touch of her mother’s ice glass ring on a necklace at her throat.
And then suddenly, memories of the attack assaulted her mind. The wood fae in the forest. The arrows. The pain that had exploded in her gut. The sound of Lorcan’s fury when he’d seen how badly she’d been hurt.
Her eyes flew open, panic and fear churning through her like the wind during a brutal storm. Lorcan leaned over her, his dark eyes flashing with charged emotion. His raven hair was down, falling into his face and brushing his shoulders corded with muscle. Her gaze dropped south, drinking in his smooth, tanned skin. He wasn’t wearing a tunic. Was this a dream?
“You’re awake.” His voice was full of relief. He reached out to grasp her hand, his grip strong but gentle.
“Where am I?” She pressed a hand to her throat. It felt as raw as an onion fresh from the ground.
“We’re in Oxgrove,” Lorcan said quietly. “A village on the coast of the wood lands. The one Nollaig told us about.”
She jerked at his words, sudden terror charging through her. “Why in the name of the Dagda are we in a wood fae village? Have we been captured? Are we prisoners?”
“Relax,” Lorcan said with a soft smile. “The fae here are not fond of their king.”
“And Wingallock? Where is he?”
“Off hunting in the fields for mice.”
Reyna sighed and relaxed back onto the pillows. “Well then. That’s a relief. You gave me quite the fright though.”
“I could say the same to you.” A pause. “You were supposed to dodge the arrows. Not jump into their path.”
She scowled. “And you were supposed to hold back.”
“I wasn’t going to let you rush into a barrage of arrows all alone.” His voice went sharp. “I know you’re reckless and stubborn as hell, but that doesn’t mean you’re invincible, Reyna.”
“Have you had Shieldmaiden training?” she snapped. “No? Then you should have let me take the lead.”
“I may not be a Shieldmaiden, but I’ve spent most of my life training for combat, in one manner or another. And one of the most important things I’ve learned is never let ally to rush into danger alone.”
“Oh, I’m an ally now, am I?” She scowled and shifted away from him, her cheek plastered against the pillow. “You know what else you don’t do to allies? Betray them. Threaten them. Hold their loved ones captive for your own aims.”
He sighed heavily and sank into the chair beside the bed, the wood creaking beneath his weight. “I see we’re back to this now.”
“We never left it, Lorcan.”
“And here I thought you leaping in front of an arrow to save my life meant you might not hate me as much as you insist.”
“That’s just your delusional mind getting the better of you.” She glanced over her shoulder and shot him an icy smile. “It’s a classic symptom of being an Unseelie worshipper, or didn’t you know?”
Lorcan growled. “I swear to the Dagda, one day you are going to be the death of me.”
“No, I’m not,” she said sweetly. “I just took an arrow in the gut for you. I saved your life.”
“And I saved yours. Twice.”
“It’s a competition now, is it? Because if it is, I’ll win. Every damn time.”
Suddenly, Reyna’s throat tightened. She coughed, hard, and pain exploded in her gut. Grimacing, she pressed her hands against the dressing on her wound, stars dotting her eyes.
“Ow.”
“All right. Enough of that. Let me check your wound,” Lorcan said gently, shifting onto the bed. With gentle fingers, he lifted the edge of the dressing. She gazed down at the wound, heart hammering. There was a mottled and bruised hole in the very center of her stomach where her skin should be. The bleeding had slowed, but it hadn’t stopped. It still bubbled ominously in the candlelight.
Lorcan gently pressed the bandage back onto the wound. “Let’s put a pause on the arguing for now. At least until you heal.”
Reyna grumbled.
“You can shout at me as much as you want when you can stand again.” He gave her a strange smile. “Or you can keep trying to do it now. You’ll probably end up passing out and never get to say all the terrible things you have in mind.”
She huffed. “You might have a point with that.”
“Or you can admit that you don’t hate me after all.”
“Don’t push it.” She shifted on the pillows, trying to regain the comfort she’d felt before opening her eyes to the reality of her life. For a moment, she just wanted to return to the sweet scent of grass, the softness of the pillows, the safety of it all. Just for a moment. And then she would get straight back to the business of slaying her enemies.
“Are you uncomfortable?” Lorcan asked as he watched her flop around on the pillows.
“I’m…” She wanted to say fine, but that was a lie. Nothing was fine at all, and she doubted it ever would be again.
Lorcan shifted a little further onto the bed, and then gently pulled her into his arms. She opened her mouth to protest, but the moment her head rested against his chest, she forgot every word she meant to say.
He was solid and steady and familiar in the midst of so much chaos and pain. Lorcan had been the cause of a lot of that, of course, but that didn’t matter right now. She breathed him in, leather and smoke and steel, and emotions she thought she’d lost washed over her.