Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,119

shadow fae king? You’re a terrible match.”

A quick flash of anger flickered across Reyna’s face, but she hid it just as quickly with a smile. “You’re right. Look where it’s led me. I’m trapped in a cage, destined to die in a horrible, excruciating way. I should have listened to you when you offered me a place by your side.”

“He did what?” Lorcan asked, his voice a dangerous growl. The thought of the wood king being anywhere remotely close to Reyna made his skin crawl.

“Oh, that’s right.” The wood king said in a singsong voice, turning Lorcan’s way. “Or did she not tell you? I asked her to become one of mine.”

“One of your what?” he demanded through gritted teeth. “Your mistresses? Did you really think—”

“One of my guards.” The wood king tipped back his head and laughed. “Though your idea is not a terrible one at all. With a warm bath and a flowing gown, she could be quite comely. Not a great beauty by any means, but—”

“If you can’t see that Reyna is a great beauty, then you’re even more insane than I thought you were.”

“Careful.” The wood king tsked. “You’re betraying yourself, Lorcan Rothach.”

His face rippled as Segonax’s familiar smile shuddered back into place. Horror tripped through Lorcan’s veins. He growled, fisting his hands by his sides. “I am going to rip your heart out of your chest.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Molt-as-Segonax said with that cruel, twisted smile. “Once you’ve watched everyone you love be taken from you. Once you’ve seen all of their faces on mine. But be warned, Lorcan Rothach. I’m a High King. I’ve been gifted the power of my throne. Kill me, and you’re cursed.”

Lorcan ground his teeth together. “I could say the same to you.”

“Ah.” The wood king strode closer, his eyes flashing. “But your cloaked friend here is not a High King. Neither is your lover of an ice princess. I’ll start with them.”

The wood king spun on his feet, his emerald cloak billowing behind him. He strode back to his guards where they’d been cleaning up the mess. Gratefully, Seg’s body had been removed from the hall, though some of his blood still painted the stones. The guards had already put some of the crimson liquid in the king’s tankard. He took another long gulp, and then wiped the remnants from his lips with the back of his hand.

Lorcan watched, his body poised to strike. Reyna was painfully silent. Nollaig still sobbed, knees to the ground. There was no way out of this. Not unless Thane magically arrived at the gates. Even then, they were out of time. Thane couldn’t fight his way to the throne room before Molt had killed them all.

“Reyna,” he murmured, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “You can’t do this. We made a promise to each other.”

Her glittering silver eyes met his. “I know what I have to do.”

“Reyna, please.” His voice broke. He knew what that meant. He’d seen it in her eyes when he’d rescued her from the gallows. Reyna already thought her life was forfeit, that she was some prophesied hero meant to vanquish the Namhaid. She was going to sacrifice herself to save everyone.

And there was nothing he could do to stop her.

45

Eislyn

Battle-hardened Fomorians had gathered in the palace. Eislyn stood next to Emperor Lir at the top of the curving marble staircase, watching the warriors of the Hunt cluster in the entranceway. Her heartbeat was frenetic; her mouth was dry. Terror sank its poisonous veins into her soul.

“Lir,” she whispered, careful not to speak his name without his title loudly enough for the others to hear.

He stiffened beside her. Even now that he’d told her the truth, he would not relax his barriers between them. To him, she was the enemy. The worst fae to ever breathe the air.

“What is it, Eislyn?”

“Can we go somewhere private?”

His dark gaze swept across her, and goosebumps stormed her skin. “Why, exactly, would you wish to do that?”

“I want to speak with you about the Hunt.” She ignored the flush in her cheeks, the pull of his gravity. None of that mattered when he planned on sending his warriors to Tir Na Nog for Beltane. She was his enemy, and he was hers.

He let out a heavy sigh. “If you were anyone else, I’d say no, but for some mad reason, I cannot hold back from you.”

She frowned as he led her through the maze of corridors and pushed open the door to his