Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,120

quarters. What a ridiculous thing for him to say. He’d held himself back from her ever since she’d stepped foot in this place. It was all he ever did!

Lir stood tall before her and crossed his arms over his bare, bronze chest. “Go on then. Say what you want to say.”

“Don’t do the Hunt this year.” She stepped close to him and pleaded with her eyes. “You only do this because of the Namhaid, right?”

He pursed his lips, but then nodded. “The visions are often confusing, but they are clear on one thing. The Namhaid cleaves the world on the night of Beltane. We fly to your shores each year, hoping to stop it.”

It made sense, in a twisted, brutal way. “But you don’t need to stop it this year. You’ve caught me. I’m here. I can’t cleave the world if I’m trapped inside your palace during Beltane.”

Lir’s gaze darkened. He reached out a hand, but then froze when his fingers were only inches from her cheek. His hand fell heavily to his side. “Only a few days ago, you were shouting at me to believe you aren’t the Namhaid.”

She cast her gaze to the floor. “I worry you might be right.”

“How so?” he asked in a quiet, dangerous voice that sent skitters of alarm across her skin.

“There’s something wrong with me,” she whispered. “There always has been. When I was a child, I saw the Ruin kill my mother. I didn’t speak for ages after that, but what’s worse is that I don’t remember anything but her screams. Years of my life are gone from my mind. In their place is only darkness. Sometimes, I see things that aren’t there. Sometimes, I feel shadows scratching at my skin. I have terrible dreams that feel real.”

Lir’s palm cupped her cheek, and she glanced up to find him gazing down at her with concern. There was a softness in his expression, one he rarely showed her. With a sigh, he opened his arms. Timidly, she stepped into them.

He pulled her to his chest, his strong arms wrapping around her like a cocoon of safety and warmth. Closing her eyes, she breathed him in. The scent of spices filled her nose, along with the burnt scent of ozone. Her heart hammered her ribcage as her cheek pressed into the ridges of his chest.

“I thought you hated me,” she whispered.

“I don’t hate you, which is part of my problem,” he murmured back. “But I do hate what you’ll become.”

Her heart thumped hard. “You wish you could kill me so that you could just get it over with.”

“That would certainly make things easier.”

She pulled back and frowned up at him. “You don’t really think I’m the Ghaisgeach, do you? You’ve kept me alive because I might be the hero of this world, but you don’t actually believe I could be.”

“I don’t know, Eislyn. I just don’t know.” He sighed. “To be honest, it’s unlikely. The Ghaisgeach is meant to be a warrior. You are strong in your own way, but you’ve told me yourself that you’ve never fought in a battle. You prefer books to swords.”

A warrior, Eislyn thought. Like her sister. Reyna with her owl and her sword. But Eislyn did not dare mention her Shieldmaiden sister to Lir. If he knew there was another ice princess out there, roaming the lands with her owl, Eislyn would never be able to stop him from going on the Hunt.

Her hands fisted. “So, that means I’m the thing we both hope I’m not.”

Lir’s jaw clenched as he swept his gaze across her face. “It’s just so unimaginable to me. You have a fire within you, but you’re good and you’re kind. You’re nothing like what I expected.”

“I don’t want to be the Namhaid, Lir,” she said as fresh tears filled her eyes, burning them. “I don’t want to destroy the world.”

“I know you don’t.” He gathered her against his chest again, his warmth enveloping her. “Not yet.”

“But that time will come,” she choked out. Sooner rather than later. Eislyn had seen how fast things could change. It wasn’t that long ago that she could barely lift a sword. Now, she could not only fight but she could kill grown males with ice shards. She could watch their blood paint the ground and feel no regret at all. Just vengeance.

“You don’t need to send the Hunt to Tir Na Nog looking for me,” she said, hoping that, if anything, her words could get through to him.