Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,117

who whimpered on the ground. It made Reyna’s heart break. She itched to flatten herself into an impossible pancake and squeeze through the bars so that she might stop the wood king from causing him any further pain.

Molt’s eyes had transformed. They gleamed crimson, as if the blood he’d swallowed had spun through his body, filling every single part of him. Spittle dripped down his long, sharp chin. His body trembled with quiet rage.

Don’t you see, Reyna thought to the storm inside of her. It’s not me. It’s him.

The Ruin’s whispers filled her mind. He is not the Namhaid, but he is something almost as terrible.

Her hope shattered. Even after everything, the Ruin still clung to his beliefs with ragged fingernails. You have such blinders on. Look at him. He—

Does not fit the visions, the Ruin argued. There is more to the visions than I’ve shown you, and this male cannot be the one.

Reyna slumped to the floor, hugging her knees tight to her chest. Molt had begun to walk around Segonax in slow circles, like a tiger waiting to pounce. Her chest deflated. For a moment, she thought she’d gotten through to the Ruin. The magic finally saw beyond its narrow vision. She’d hoped it would turn its sights on the wood king, using its terrible power to finally defeat the true enemy of the world.

But she’d been wrong. It was no use. The Ruin had spent far too long in its own mind, believing in a false truth. It was hard for anyone to take off their blinders, no matter how hard reality stared them in the face. Reyna had not met many fae who could get past their own prejudices. And the Ruin wasn’t even fae. It was just power, magic, a destructive force of nature.

She should have known she could never convince it. And now it was trapped inside this cage with her until the very end. How could she use it against the king, if she couldn’t even get it out of here?

The answer was, she couldn’t. There was no way out of this.

Not unless she could get out of this cage before Ulaid Molt killed them all.

44

Lorcan

Lorcan’s chest heaved as he glared through the iron bars at the wood king. Ulaid Molt stood over Segonax, whose broken body split Lorcan’s heart into a thousand battered pieces. Seg had never been anything but strong and steady, a comforting presence in Lorcan’s rocky life. He’d never imagined him anything other than a permanent fixture of the Shadow Court, like an immovable rock. Unbreakable.

Lorcan’s hands fisted as Ulaid Molt slowly circled Seg’s body. There had to be something he could do. He couldn’t just stand here in this fucking cage and watch his oldest friend in the world bleed out on the stones beneath the throne he’d fought so hard to protect.

Lorcan slid his eyes toward Reyna, but her gaze was as distant as the ice fae lands. That look on her face, he recognized it. She was locked in a mental battle with the storm inside her head. He turned to Nollaig instead. His cloaked friend sagged forward on the bars. Her gloved hand curved around the iron, and her hot breath fogged from the depths of her hood. Lorcan shifted to the other side of his cage, closer to her, trying to catch her attention.

“Nollaig,” he murmured.

Nollaig flinched, barely shifting her hooded face toward his.

“We have to do something,” he said, moving as close to the bars as he could. “If you have any powers, now would be the time to use them.”

“I don’t have any real power. Not to use in a situation like this,” she whispered back, sadness tinging her words. “And Segonax is going to die because of me. He is my best and oldest friend. This is part of my curse. If I hadn’t killed Bolg Rothach, none of this would be happening. My actions have brought destruction down upon us all.”

Her last word choked off as her body shook. Lorcan’s lips flatlined. He turned back to the king, anger and sadness tangling together in his gut. He’d never felt more hopeless in his life. Not even when his father had forced him to join the Shadow Court. Not even when that damn mark had pulsed in his skin, controlling him.

Now, he was fully in control of his every action, but that made it worse. Because he should have been able to do something. He was the High King of the