Teutas gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Careful. You have become far too accustomed to speaking your mind. The air fae have rubbed off on you.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong, old friend. They hide the truth as much as anyone else. They’re merely far more careful about it. In all my years spent at that court, I very rarely heard anyone truly speaking their mind. Except...”
Reyna Darragh.
He ground his teeth together, fighting back the urge to charge down the castle corridors, seek her out in the throne room, and shout at her to run. Run as far as she could, and never stop until her feet bruised and bled and tumbled out from under her.
But he couldn’t. His father held Thane Selkirk in his dungeons. If Lorcan helped Reyna escape, he had no doubt Bolg Rothach would murder Thane on the spot.
Taking a steadying breath, he returned to his father’s newest plot. “And what did Reyna say to my father’s proposal? Surely she did not agree to such folly.”
Lorcan couldn’t imagine his father could say anything that would convince Reyna to make those vows. Full of ferocity and edged with skin as tough as shadowsteel, the former Shieldmaiden had little time for games. She would sooner swing a sword than bind herself to a cruel king’s every command.
Unlike Lorcan himself.
Memories of the past filled his mind like ghostly spectres. The mark being cut deep into his skin, forever binding him to his father’s orders. His father smiling, cruelly, as he ordered Lorcan to spy on his mother’s people in the air fae lands. The sight of Comharra, Lorcan’s childhood village, a ghost town, every fae who lived there murdered by his own father. Out of spite. Every memory burned in his mind, as fresh as the day it had happened.
“She did not take the news very well. It seems our king is now the proud owner of two Darragh sisters. He has Eislyn, too.” Teutas had the decency to grimace at that. “The High King of the Ice Court will be none too pleased when he learns both his daughters are now our prisoners. I fear they will no longer ignore our existence. On the bright side, there are several realms between us and them, and they would sooner hack their way on land through the Air Court, and then the Wood Court, than chop down their precious trees for ships.”
Lorcan barely heard Teutas’s final words. His mind had locked on the first. “The king has Princess Eislyn?”
Teutas frowned. “It seems so. He had the warriors collect her when they took your Thane.”
Lorcan ground his teeth together. He should have seen this coming. It was his father’s classic style of manipulation. Find someone, or something, that his enemy cared about, and then threaten it. His father had used this tactic on so many occasions now that Lorcan had lost count. The trouble was, it always worked.
And he knew Reyna. Oh yes, he knew her well. She had only been in his life for months, but he’d spent hours upon hours by her side, guarding her for Thane. Lorcan knew what made her tick, what angered her, the way her eyes flashed with ice when she felt wronged.
If there was one thing in the entire bloody continent that could convince her to make vows to High King Bolg Rothach, it was her sister.
“Damn him, Teutas. He’s gone too far,” Lorcan said, pounding his fist on the table. “I need to speak with Reyna before she does something she’ll regret for the rest of her life.”
“She’s made it clear she doesn’t wish to see you,” Teutas said quietly. “And it sounds as though you plan to stop her from making the vows. You know I can’t allow you to do that.”
“I swear to the Dagda, Teutas, if you don’t let me see—”
“We don’t worship the Dagda here, Lorcan.” Teutas shook his head and backed up, his eyes shuttering over the warmth and friendliness they’d held only moments before. “I serve the king now. And Unseelie. You should, too.”
With a growl, Lorcan whirled on his feet and stormed down the corridor and away from his old friend. He should have known he would find no help inside this castle, not even from someone who had once hated Lorcan’s father as much as he did. That was the trouble. The king looked frail and weak and too incompetent to hold his seat, but it was all an illusion, just like everything else inside this bloody realm.
The king was strong, and he held a kind of power that most fae could only dream of. Too long spent in his presence, and one started to believe he was in the right. About everything.
Lorcan knew better than anyone. He had not always been the Prince of the Shadow Court. Once, he had been but a bastard, starving in the grasslands. His father’s warriors had found him one dark Beltane night and had dragged him back to the shadow lands. There, he’d been forced to make his own vows. Vows that had come with a mark. At first, he’d hated every word his father said. The war against the air fae was not his own. But over time, the mark began to poison his mind until he almost believed that he was right. An unexpected need for vengeance had poured through his veins like molten lava. It had almost dragged him under. Almost.
But his love for Thane had washed it all away.
When he reached the throne room, he found his father whispering quietly with two of his closest advisors, including that bloody trickster, Tarrah Glas. Lorcan did not understand how she had wormed her way to his side, nor why the High King of the Shadow Court believed the nonsense pouring from her mouth. So much talk of visions and dreams. She was playing him. Lorcan knew it. To what end, he could not say, but he had no doubt that it would end with far too many dead.
“Father, we need to speak.”
At that, Tarrah stiffened and hurried out of the throne room, leaving Lorcan and his father to argue, like they always did. He did not blame her for wanting to get out of the way of the storm.
The High King of the Shadow Court did not even raise his eyes toward his son. He lounged against the black stone, eyes shut to the world around him. “My dear bastard son. I’m beginning to think I made a mistake with you.”
Lorcan merely ignored him, as well as the dismissive title. His father had legitimized him over a decade ago. He was no longer a bastard, but he would not have cared if he was. Lorcan did not value titles the way most fae did. “It’s about the Darragh sisters.”
His father snorted. “I daresay it is. You have been moping around the castle day and night, pining over the middle one for weeks.”
Lorcan’s back went taut. “At least have the decency to call her by her name.”
“I am the High King of the Shadow Court.” Eyes still shut, Bolg smiled. “I may call the middle one whatever I damn well please.”
His mark burned as a wild thought flew through his mind. The king was drunk, and only Heremon, the financial advisor, stood by his side. It would not take much to kill him.
But then what? Bolg would be dead, and every shadow fae inside the castle would want to execute Lorcan for treason. There would be no one left to protect Reyna. Another king would rise up to take his father’s place. The next one might not be as interested in visions and prophecies. And an ice princess would be a very satisfying murder indeed.
One day, he would destroy his father, but that day at yet to come. He needed to bide his time.
So, he held his anger in check, though he spoke through gritted teeth. “I have heard what you demanded of Princess Reyna.”
“Yes. And what of it? I suppose you’re here to talk me out of it.” Bolg sighed dramatically. “My mind cannot be changed. My champion has visioned Reyna fighting for our side. Unseelie was clear. If Reyna makes the vow, the war is won. And if she doesn’t, then we all die, every one of us. Surely you do not wish all shadows to die, do you?”