“You go that way, and don’t let them see you.” She pointed further down the shore. “I’ll go this way. While I distract them, you sneak up from behind.”
Lorcan’s heart thundered. “Are you out of your bloody mind? You just got hit with a fucking arrow!”
“Because you didn’t trust me! Because you didn’t stay back!” She gripped the front of his tunic and yanked his forehead down to hers. “If I say I can do something, then trust me to do it. And if I need your help, I’ll call for you. It’s our only hope of getting out of here alive.”
Lorcan ground his teeth. The last thing he wanted to do was let Reyna throw herself into the path of danger again. But as much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He hadn’t trusted her before. He’d wanted to sweep in and be her hero. He’d ignored her, thinking she was too stubborn to know how to keep herself safe.
All he’d done was get her hurt. She had almost died because he hadn’t listened to her.
With a tormented sigh, he took a step away from her, feeling his soul come apart at the seams. “Don’t make me regret this, Reyna.”
The smile she gave him was blinding.
With dread in his heart, he ducked low and raced down the shore with his shadows pulsing around him. They hid him from view of anyone who might turn his way. When he’d gone several meters, he paused and craned his head over the hill, spotting the wood fae instantly. But Reyna was what drew his eyes the most.
She stood with her feet planted in the sand, her familiar fluttering in the wind by her side. One hand held a rock, and the other was curled into talons like her bird. The three wood fae charged toward her. One eyed her warily while the others aimed their arrows. Her back faced him, but he did not need to see her face to imagine her devilish smile.
His stomach twisted uneasily. He hated this. Every single moment of this. But he had made a promise to trust her. He had to believe that she could do this.
Keeping low to the grass, he inched his way behind the wood fae, flinching when he heard the unmistakable snick of arrows being loosed.
He twisted toward Reyna. She dodged them easily, knocking one aside with her rock as if it were nothing more than a pesky fly. Wingallock grabbed another and dropped it into her waiting palm. With a smile, she bounced it in her hand. And then she caught it mid-air, flipped the end in the direction of the wood fae, and let it fly like a spear.
It thunked into the center of one of the wood fae’s heads, landing right between his eyes. He tumbled from the horse, his eyes vacant, his body still.
Lorcan shook his head and resumed his crouch-walk to the rear of the trio that was now merely two. While he lurked, shadows pulsing along his skin, Reyna and Wingallock managed to take out another, using the same trick they’d used on the first.
But she had played her hand—twice—and the third had clearly caught onto her plan. Instead of lobbing more arrows—and potential weapons—in her direction, he leapt off his horse and charged.
Reyna’s body tensed. She jogged back, eyes wide. With a frustrated grunt, she pulled her arm back and launched the rock at the wood fae’s head. She missed. His heart dropped into his gut. She didn’t have her sword. She’d lost it in the forest when she’d been hit.
“Lorcan!” she shouted.
That was all he needed to hear to run. He pushed up from the grass and shook off his shadows, throwing himself forward at an impossible speed. His eyes zeroed in on Reyna. Determination and fear swirled like snakes in his gut.
The wood fae stopped and twisted his head over his shoulder, hearing Lorcan coming. Reyna darted out of the way and leapt into the sea. The still waters rushed over her head, hiding her from view, but Wingallock darted back and forth over the sea where she’d jumped in.
Lorcan stalked toward the wood fae, sizing him up, just as his opponent did the same. He was muscular like the rest, though several inches shorter than Lorcan. He wore boiled leather stamped with the sigil of the Wood Court—two crossed arrows with vines binding them in the center. His green-grey hair squatted in a bun on the top of his head, highlighting the dagger-like points of his ears.
His weaponry was impressive. In addition to the yew arrows tipped in iron, and a bow carved from an alder tree, he had a bastard sword crafted from Tamaris steel. The steel of the forgotten fire fae. Tamaris steel blades were stronger than any other weapons found within Tir Na Nog. Except for swords spun from iron.
Unfortunately for the wood fae, Lorcan wielded Tamaris, too. And he was a much better swordsman.
Lorcan threw himself toward the wood fae with a roar, his blade outstretched. Eyes wide, the wood fae reached behind his back for a poisonous arrow to slam into Lorcan’s gut. But while he was fast, Lorcan was faster. He slashed his blade at the wood fae’s hand, cutting the fingers clean off. The wood fae screamed in agony, grasping the bloody stump to his chest.
Lorcan thrust his blade into his enemy’s chest, and the wood fae died with terror in his eyes.
Reyna pushed out of the water, her skin soaked with the salt of the sea. He drank in the sight of her, entranced by the tunic clinging to her shapely breasts and by the bloodlust singing in his veins.
“We should go,” she said, snapping him out of his trance. “More are coming.”
He noticed she pressed a hand lightly against her wound. “Have you been hurt? Did that reopen your wound?”
“I’m fine,” she said, wincing slightly. “It just aches a little. Dodging arrows is more difficult than you’d think.”
“I think it’s impossible. You’re impossible, and yet here you are.” He strode toward her and scooped her up into his arms.
“Wait, what are you doing?” She glared up at him. “I said my wound aches, not that my legs have suddenly stopped working. I can walk to the boat on my own, thank you very much.”
“I let you dodge arrows, and now you’re bloody well going to let me carry you to the boat,” he said, stomping forward. “And if you argue with me about it, I’ll bend you over my knee and spank your bloody stubbornness right out of you.”
Pink dotted her cheeks. A moment later, she cleared her throat. “Promise?”
Every single part of him went rock hard. “Don’t tempt me, Reyna.”
“Maybe I want to tempt you.”
He jumped into the boat and deposited her onto one of the wooden benches, grabbing an oar just as several more wood fae thundered onto the beach. He shoved the oar into the sand, pushing them into the waters.
The wood fae tried to launch a few arrows their way, but it was too late. The boat had already made it out of their striking distance, and they would never dare step a toe into the sea. Lorcan continued to row, watching the shoreline disappear from view, and with it, the ones they’d left behind to fight the enemy alone.
It felt wrong to leave them like this, and yet, Duff had seemed as though he had everything under control. One day, Lorcan hoped he could journey once again to his old home in the grasslands and pay Comharra a visit. Perhaps the fae of Oxgrove would have settled in, living happily off the grain in the fields, bringing the old bustling market back to life.
It felt like a dream of a different life, one for a different Lorcan. A Lorcan who had not stumbled into the path of the Fomorians that night so long ago. One who had not ended up a prince of shadows.