She ignored him. “I told you that Unseelie hadn’t shown me that battle, and yet you sent our warriors to camp on enemy soil regardless. You sentenced them to death.”
“Unseelie didn’t show you us huddling inside our city in fear either, did he?” Bolg laughed with a crooked smile. “Sometimes, I wonder if his visions have left you. Perhaps he’s picked someone else. Someone stronger. Someone better. Someone more kingly, in fact.” He grinned at her.
Shock hit Tarrah in the gut. She stumbled back, shaking her head. “Unseelie hasn’t given his visions to you.”
He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Bolg Rothach was…
Suddenly, Tarrah saw the king for what he truly was. All this time, she had followed him because that was what she thought she should do. It didn’t matter what he did or who he hurt. He was the king who would save the realm.
But he isn’t. A fae like Bolg Rothach would never think about saving anyone but himself. He was cruel and wicked and full of hate. He even tormented his own son, his flesh and blood.
“Oh, he has, and they’ve been very enlightening indeed.” His strange, wine-stained smile widened. “Did you know that Unseelie finds power in blood and in death? He is strengthened by sacrifice. And the bigger the sacrifice, the greater the power within his grasp.”
Tarrah gasped. She shook her head, trying to shove away a realization that threatened to knock her flat on the ground. But it was impossible. The truth had been laid bare before her. The king thought he’d been given visions from Unseelie. Visions of sacrifice and death.
And so he had sent his own troops to the slaughter, knowing that thousands of them would die on a battlefield of ash.
“You wouldn’t,” she whispered, a newfound terror and fury roaring through her veins. “Those were your loyal warriors. The fae who serve you.”
“Bah. Those fae didn’t serve me. They only served the title and this seat. For them, it doesn’t matter who sits on the goddamn throne. I could be a pile of boiled potatoes, and they still wouldn’t care.”
The king had truly gone mad. With slow steps back, she began to inch her way toward the throne room doors. If he was willing to sacrifice that many lives, there was no telling what he would do next. Perhaps he would decide Tarrah was an excellent sacrifice as well. She didn’t plan on sticking around to find out.
Bolg scarcely noticed. Now that he was talking, it seemed he didn’t want to stop. “Unseelie gave me a vision clear as day. He showed me the sacrifices, the blood, and the ash. And he told me, this has to happen. If you give me all this blood, I will give you the power to conquer all of Tir Na Nog.”
“I am very glad that he has been speaking to you,” Tarrah said through gritted teeth. She was also very glad she could lie. Unseelie hadn’t been speaking to the king at all. Her god, even if he had lied to her about Teutas, would have never commanded the king to do something as terrible as this.
“There is something else he has shown me.”
Tarrah froze.
“He has shown me a way to defeat this Ruin,” he said, flashing his wine-stained teeth. It looked as though he’d been feasting on blood.
“Oh?” Tarrah asked in relief. That was far better than what she had worried. She’d almost thought his latest vision would have something to do with her. And all she wanted now was to get as far away from Findius, and the High King, as she possibly could. Perhaps she would go north to the ice fae lands. Reyna always spoke so fondly of them.
“Yes.” Bolg’s drunken smile turned razor sharp, as did his sunken eyes. “There is a god-like power in Inishfall that can destroy every last drop of that godforsaken magic called the Ruin. My Shieldmaiden will go collect it, along with my son and Nollaig. And you, my Champion. You will go, too.”
32
Reyna
“Inishfall?” Reyna frowned. “Why in the name of the Dagda does the High King of the Shadow Court want us to go there?”
Tarrah winced. “It’s in the name of Unseelie that he wants you to go. He thinks he’s having visions now.” The shadow fae’s face looked troubled. “He believes the power to destroy the Ruin lies there.”
Reyna stood a little straighter. Obviously, a quest for the mad shadow king was not high on her list of things she’d jump to do. But this one…this one was very interesting indeed.
“Lorcan,” she whispered, glancing at her lover where he stood glowering by her side. They’d gathered in the strategy room, what was left of them. Segonax was busy looking after the surviving warriors and doing his best to boost morale. Teutas was gone…forever taken by the Ruin. That left Nollaig, Lorcan, and Reyna to listen to Tarrah’s pleas.
His lips were a thin, white line. “I don’t suppose he gave us a choice in the matter.”
“No, but do you need one?” Tarrah replied. “I know how important defeating the Ruin is to you.” She turned to Reyna. “Your kingdom. You’ve lost many to this magic. I doubt the king is truly having visions, but…he isn’t wrong. There are great powers to be found in Inishfall.”
Reyna’s heart squeezed. “Our great realm is dying because of it. My own sister is sick in her bed, blind. It has been months, and last I heard, she still hasn’t recovered.”
“It is a terrible magic,” Lorcan agreed. “And Tir Na Nog will struggle to survive until we see the end of it. However—and this is extremely important—I do not trust a damn word that comes out of my father’s mouth.”
Reyna nodded and frowned down at the map of Tir Na Nog and the surrounding lands. Inishfall was in the southern seas, an island that squatted all by itself far away from the rest of civilization. It was impossible to get there.
“Unfortunately, as Tarrah said, you do not have a choice,” Nollaig finally spoke up, her voice quiet.
Reyna eyed the hooded fae. “And you do?”
“Yes, but I will go with you anyway.”
There was something very odd about Nollaig. She was a puzzle, and Reyna was becoming quite determined to figure her out. “Who are you, Nollaig?”
The hooded fae merely continued to stare in her direction. “Who are you?”
Reyna frowned, but Nollaig had already begun to turn the focus of the conversation back to the matter at hand. “I hesitate to ask this, Tarrah. I truly do. But have you had any recent Unseelie visions?”
“No, I have not, and I hope I never do again,” she replied hotly.
Reyna drew back, shocked. Tarrah had only ever seemed devoted and dedicated to her god’s cause. She had been awe-inspired by him. Her tone had always been one of wonder, and she’d insisted time and time again that he was nothing like the tales suggested.
An image flashed in her mind’s eye, one of Tarrah and Nollaig, one of Teutas crumbling to the ground. She had seen the way Tarrah had looked at him. There had been love there.
“My father is a delusional liar,” Lorcan said. “I don’t know why he wants us to go to Inishfall, but it won’t be for the reason he says. It’s likely a death trap for us all.”
“I want to go,” Reyna said suddenly.
The room fell into an awkward silence. She knew what they must be thinking, that she was as mad as the king. Maybe she was.