Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,128

court would bow before the other. “My father and I are grateful for your allyship. We are so pleased that the war between our great realms can now be over.”

And it would stay that way, as long as no one ever found out what Thane had done on the battlefield. No one had seen him kill his aunt. If they ever discovered the truth, the Sea Court would rip their treaty to shreds.

“I feel the same,” he said with a nod. “There is no need for fighting anymore. It is a time for peace. Otherwise, I fear our realms will never survive the next winter.”

Glencora exchanged a nervous glance with her father. Thane lifted his brows, shifting on the throne. They’d clearly come here for something. What on earth could it be?

Glencora cleared her throat. “My father and I…well…there’s something we need to speak with you about before you head south to the meeting with the High King of the Shadow Court.”

Thane nodded. They would leave at dawn for the journey. Thane couldn’t wait to meet his old friend and celebrate his victory against the wood king. He’d somehow won his war against Molt, even though the wood king had intercepted letters between them all. Molt had even sent Wingallock with a false note, halting Thane’s plans to march south on Beltane. They were all lucky to be alive.

“I’d like to make an agreement with you, Thane,” Cos said, cutting through Glencora’s rambling speech.

Thane noted the lack of title. It did not bother him, but it was a statement all the same.

“I see.” Thane laced his hands. “Well, go on then. Make your proposal.”

“We came to your aid when your city and your throne had been taken from you,” Cos said evenly. “It seems the war has ended, but peace will be harder than we think. I want a guarantee that your realm and mine will always be joined. I want assurance that the strife between us is over.”

Thane frowned. “You have my word. Is that not enough?”

“Word is never enough, not even in Tir Na Nog.” Cos drew Glencora closer to the throne. “You once promised to wed one of my daughters to assure an alliance between our realms. Reyna clearly has her own wild mind, and Eislyn is…lost.”

Cos’s voice went rough, and a sharp stab of pain went through Thane’s gut. No one had seen Eislyn Darragh in weeks. She’d fled to the north but had never arrived in Falias or any of the other ice fae cities. No one knew what had happened to her. The truth was, she was likely dead.

A heaviness settled over his heart.

“Glencora was always meant to be your bride. Before…the accident.” Cos cleared his throat, blinking away unshed tears. “Thankfully, she has made a miraculous recovery and can take up her position as your queen now. We should join our families together, Thane. Once and for all.”

51

Reyna

The shadow fae left their doomed lands behind for hope. They streamed out of the gates of Findius and spilled onto the fields beyond, rushing toward the warmth and safety of the looming forest. Tears left wet trails down dirt-stained cheeks. Smiles were as blinding as the stars.

Reyna rode beside Lorcan, their horses aimed for Murias. They’d received letters from the north. It seemed the wood king had played far more tricks than one. Wingallock had never made it to Lorcan because the wood king had spotted him first. He’d intercepted the letter, and then sent a false one to Thane, telling him not to march south on Beltane.

Thane was on his way now, along with Reyna’s father and the High King of the Sea Court. Lorcan had agreed to share the wood fae lands, to broker peace and unity with the rest of the continent. In return, his fae would have free rein. They could live with Lorcan in Murias, or they could sail across the sea, trek through the snowy mountains, or find a home inside the grasslands. Tir Na Nog was theirs for the taking.

Peace truly had come. Reyna grinned as the horse swayed beneath her. Every day, she had expected a hammer of truth to fall. For Motcha’s Axe to suddenly appear in someone’s hand. But it seemed the world had rid itself of terrible things.

And all that mattered was her future by Lorcan’s side.

Murias was built into the very fabric of the forest. There were no houses here. All the homes were constructed in the branches of the trees, elevated above