Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,121

“I’m already here.”

Lir settled his chin on top of her head. For a moment, he was silent. Eislyn knew she had done all she could. She’d tried to protect her people, even from afar. Even if she one day tried to rip their world apart.

She hoped Lir was wrong about the Namhaid. Maybe it would never come to that. Maybe the enemy of the world was nothing more than a dream.

“Alright,” he finally said with a heavy sigh. “We will cancel the Hunt just this once. I hope I don’t live to regret this.”

46

Reyna

Reyna’s skin buzzed with anticipation. Somehow, she’d managed to convince the wood king to turn his eye on her instead of Nollaig. The whole bit about being lovers had really cinched it for him. It seemed he’d do anything to cause Lorcan pain. She couldn’t wait to stab her blade into his heart.

Ulaid Molt lazily strode up to her cage, his tankard sloshing with fresh blood. She wrinkled her nose, catching the scent of it. He leaned forward and flashed his teeth. They were stained with the same red that painted the floor.

“Princess Reyna Darragh.” He motioned for the guards to unlock her cage. Reyna tried to keep her face blank, her heart steady. She didn’t want to give him any hint of her true emotions. “You should be dead.”

“So should you.”

He dropped Segonax’s face, revealing his true form. It had been eerie seeing him don the commander like a uniform. She couldn’t imagine what Lorcan felt. The look on his face had been heartbreaking, and she’d seen a rage in him she’d never seen until now. She understood what the wood king was trying to do to him. Break him down, piece by piece, until he was nothing more than the husk of the male she’d come to love.

And she wasn’t going to let him do that.

The cage door swung wide. Dozens of guards pointed their arrows at her heart. With a shaky breath, she stepped out but left Wingallock inside, whispering one last thought to the Ruin.

I’ve gotten us out of the cage. Please. I know you don’t think he’s the Namhaid, but he is. Hell, even if he isn’t, he’s going to destroy this entire continent with Unseelie’s magic. I know that’s not your quest, or whatever you call it, but I can’t imagine the Dagda would have wanted this to happen.

No answer. Her frustration burned like iron.

“Come.” Ulaid Molt beckoned Reyna forward. He pointed to the blood-stained stone in the middle of the hall. “Stand here.”

Reyna balked at his command, her instinct to fight rising within her like the crashing waves against the shore. But she held it back, knowing that she would only get one chance at this.

She slowly stepped one foot in front of the other. Lorcan muttered out a curse, and she heard the unmistakable hiss when his skin touched the bars. As Reyna drew closer to the king, his guards stepped back. She was unarmed. She’d been through hell and back, and she knew she looked like she was nothing more than a sack of disintegrating bones. In their eyes, she doubted she looked like a threat.

She came to a stop just before the wood king, her heart thudding. His eyes glinted with need as he raked his gaze across her, but it was not the same need she’d ever seen from Lorcan. This was a desire for blood and bone. For her flesh. For any last vestiges of magic in her veins.

She sized him up in turn. His body radiated power, even in an enemy court where the throne belonged to another. Quickly, she cut her eyes Lorcan’s way and then toward the dais where the black throne hunkered quietly.

“Too scared to look your murderer in the face?” Molt’s chilling voice snatched her attention away from the throne, but her thoughts stayed locked on its presence.

Even after the Fall, the power of the thrones had been undeniable. The magic had weakened, but it had never vanished, not like the powers of the fae. The throne gifted strength upon its king, particularly when they were in the same room together.

She’d seen it from her own father. He never saw his subjects unless he sat on his throne.

If the Ruin wouldn’t help her…

Molt’s hand smacked her cheek. The sting radiated down her chin, knocking her back. She whipped her head toward him as a low growl built in her throat.

His eyes flashed, and his fisted hands shook by his sides.