Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,101

the shadows, and we were in the light. We doused the flames so they couldn’t see us. It didn’t work.” Nollaig shook her head. “The blood magic, it must be enhancing their senses. They were able to surround us easily. They trapped me, knocked me out. The next thing I knew, it was morning and Reyna was gone.”

“Dammit,” Lorcan growled, whipping his head toward the black stone city. His heart ripped in half as he imagined an arrow punching into Reyna’s gut. With a shuddering breath, he slowly stood, jaw clenching and unclenching. Tears built in his eyes, threatening to spill down his face. He wanted to rip open his own chest and shout at the skies until his voice died.

“I don’t think they killed her, Lorcan,” Nollaig wheezed, clutching at the ground with her single gloved hand. “If they’d wanted to kill her, they wouldn’t have sneaked up on us like they did. The knocked me out so they could take her.”

“But why would they do that?” he asked through gritted teeth, too scared to dare to hope.

“Because you love her,” Nollaig muttered, shaking her head. “You bloody fool, they know what she means to you.”

Sudden realization dawned. The wood king was desperate to find Lorcan. It was the only way for him to gain the power of the throne. And so he’d done the one thing guaranteed to get Lorcan’s singular attention.

“If the wood king wants me to ride into Findius so that he might fight me himself, then so be it,” Lorcan growled. “Forget the bloody army. I’m riding there now.”

37

Reyna

Reyna awoke on a platform suspended above a river of molten iron. The churning red rushed below her, transforming the caverns into pits of death. For a moment, she could only stare, certain that she was trapped inside another dream, another nightmare. She’d been in this place once before. With Nollaig. With Lorcan.

And she’d almost fallen to her death.

Shaking her head, she slowly pressed up from the slick stone ground to glance around. Wingallock perched next to her, his body curved over with the same pain Reyna felt inside her gut. He hooted sadly.

Her body groaned as she held herself up with trembling arms. Several other platforms were suspended above the river while a stretch of dimly-lit cells lined the distant wall. This was not the tunnel she’d encountered before, she realized. This was something else.

A prison of some sorts.

Memories flooded into her mind. The last thing she remembered was huddling in the darkness while wood fae surrounded her. Nollaig had vanished, seemingly into thin air. Or she was dead.

Reyna dropped her head into her hands. She’d been captured by the wood fae. They’d brought her to these dungeons—likely located beneath Findius. After all their searching, they had finally found her.

And Lorcan would not get his army.

Shit. She climbed to her feet with a wild panic building in her throat. Lorcan needed that army, or the lords might very well take their warriors, turn around, and head back to the coast. He needed them if he wanted to get his city back. Knowing Lorcan, he would charge right in, with or without them.

Her heart thundered as her mind whirled. Would he realize she’d been taken? Would he go in search of her? Would he storm into the castle, trying to save her life?

He would get himself killed.

She had to get out of here before he ran straight to his death.

“Fuck,” she muttered beneath her breath, sizing up the gap between the levitating platforms. With Seelie’s powers, she might be able to make the leap. Without them, she was far more likely to fall to her death. To make matters worse, she could barely stand up straight without her knees trembling. The Ruin was weakening her, and—

You will be dead within the day, the familiar voice hissed into her mind. Just give up, Reyna Darragh. It is time for the Namhaid to die.

She squeezed her eyes tight, trying to block it out, but it was no use. Her strength had packed up its bags and left. The herbs were gone. Wingallock had barely moved an inch since she’d awoken.

“You say you were made to protect this realm,” Reyna said, her voice shaky. “You were created to save the fae.”

I was created to protect Tir Na Nog from the Namhaid.

Tir Na Nog, she noted. The realms. The continent. Not the dwellers, the living things that made the lands what they were. “But your storms destroy it. Your ash kills