“I don’t know if I believe the king. In fact, I mostly don’t.” She glanced from face to face, seeing concern written in their eyes. Or hood, as it were. “But I think Tarrah has proven that these visions can sometimes be real. That doesn’t mean the king is having them or that he even truly understands what he sees. But there’s a chance that there is some truth hidden in the middle of all this. Maybe Inishfall is nothing but a trap. Or maybe it does hold the key to stopping the Ruin. I have to go see what’s there.”
“That’s how I feel, too,” Tarrah whispered fiercely. “The Ruin destroyed everything. We have to find a way to stop it from doing any more harm.”
Lorcan expelled a heavy sigh. “I really don’t like this, but if it’s what you want to do, Reyna, then I’ll stand by your side.”
They all turned to Nollaig, who merely chuckled. “You lot keep forgetting something. You have to go to Inishfall. Two of you don’t have any other choice. For now.” Nollaig pushed open the door and vanished into the corridor. “See you first thing on the morrow. We should leave at once.”
“For now?” Reyna asked, frowning at the door. “What do you mean, ‘for now’?”
But Reyna got no answer. Letting out a frustrated growl, she stormed into the corridor. But the hooded fae was gone. Lorcan stepped up to her side, towering over her like a strong and steady tree amidst a storm.
“What did she mean?” Reyna repeated.
“I don’t think we’ll get an answer to that,” he said quietly. “Not until she wants us to know.”
They left at first light. Tarrah met them in the strategy room, her hair all a tangle around her face. She’d stayed up half the night, drawing a route from Findius down through the Misty Wastes, and into the Dorcha Mountains. There, she insisted, their company would find a portal that would lead them into Inishfall.
Segonax had joined them to glance over the plan. He looked about as convinced as everyone else. “I have never heard of a portal to Inishfall inside of the shadow fae realms.”
“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” Tarrah argued, propping fisted hands on her waist. “There are a great many a thing in the world that you have never heard of.”
“I daresay I know quite a bit more about the world than you.” He crossed his arms stubbornly over his armored chest.
“Not about this. Not about magic.”
“Hmph,” he replied.
Tarrah turned her way. “What do you think, Shieldmaiden Reyna?”
“I think I hope we don’t get trapped,” she said frankly.
Inishfall was, as most of the realm knew, a strange and terrible place. Few had ever seen it, and even fewer still had lived to tell the tale. It had been a very long time since anyone had journeyed to Inishfall. It could only be accessed through magic, and as magic had vanished from Tir Na Nog, so had the ability to get there.
However, the trickiest thing about Inishfall was not how one got there. It was how one left. For many years before the Fall, the island in the southern seas had been used as a prison. While anyone could travel there by using the right kind of magic, no one could leave, not unless the power protecting the lands deemed one worthy and ready to be freed.
And most prisoners were never deemed worthy. Inishfall had become home to the worst of the fae throughout the history of Tir Na Nog. Luckily, it had been over a century, and most would be dead after so many years spent trapped in that place.
“We aren’t being sentenced with anything. We’re no one’s prisoners,” Tarrah said. “There is no reason for the island to decide to trap us there.”
Reyna exchanged a weighted glance with Lorcan. “I’m not so certain your king would agree.”
“The island has only ever trapped the worst of our kind,” Nollaig said. “Monstrous lords and tyrant kings. Murderers. Cannibals. Some kings tried to send their enemies there, but not every enemy is evil. The island always spits the good fae right back out.”
Tarrah shivered. “It sounds like a dreadful place.”
“You’re the one who says her mother went there,” Nollaig replied.
“Oh yes.” Tarrah nodded. “But that does not mean it isn’t dreadful. My mother liked dreadful things very much.”
“Tarrah, you always bring such cheer to our quests,” Reyna said with a grin. When she had first arrived in Findius, she had felt a terrible hatred toward Tarrah Glas. But she’d begun to feel protective of the girl. Her only crime was trusting in something she shouldn’t have.
Nollaig coughed. “Was that a lie, Shieldmaiden?”
“What?” Reyna frowned. “That’s impossible. It was a joke and nothing more.”
“No, that was a lie,” Lorcan said insistently. “You’ve never once spoken a falsehood, not even through a joke.”
She laughed, suddenly uncomfortable with the way everyone was staring at her. “I’m certain the Dagda understands the difference between a joke and a true spoken thing. I don’t know why you all are making such a big deal of this.”
“Because you just lied, Reyna Darragh,” Lorcan said.
“I didn’t,” she insisted. “I can’t.”
Tarrah gasped and pressed her hands to her mouth, eyes bugged wide. “I know what’s happening. Your vow to the king. It’s made you one of us. You’re a shadow fae now.”
“That isn’t true.” Reyna’s heart thumped hard. “Only yesterday, I drew power from ice. I wouldn’t be able to do that if I’d somehow been transformed into a shadow fae.”
“It’s true,” Lorcan said. “She did.”
Reyna sighed in relief, glad that they could move on to the task at hand instead of theorize about a simple joke she’d made. But Lorcan had not moved on at all.
“But I still believe you lied,” he said.
“This is ludicrous!” She threw up her hands.
“Prove it then. Try lying now.” He grinned. “Try telling me that you hate me.”
“Well, I certainly could say that, but I thought you wanted me to try to lie,” she shot back.
“So say it then.” With a smug expression on his face, he crossed his arms and waited.
“Honestly, I don’t know what you hope to accomplish with this,” she said, scowling.
“If you’re so certain we’re wrong, then why are you stalling?” A single raven eyebrow winged upward.
Anger rushed through her like a storm. “You know what? Fine. If you want to play this ridiculous game, then here you are. I hate you, Lorcan Rothach. I hate you with every ounce of blood in my veins. I would rather die than look upon your face ever again.”
She gasped and pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. How had she just said that? How had she even managed to form the words? It was an impossibility. The fae of Tir Na Nog could not lie. It was one certainty in their world, the one thing that had never changed. The only fae who could were…
“But I’m not a shadow fae,” she mouthed, no sound escaping from her parted lips.
She couldn’t be. She was born of the ice. She bled in the ice. And she found power in the ice. The ice was her home. It was her strength.