Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,23

faded green hair clutched his tankard and stared at her with eyes as clear as glass. Donned in sturdy leather armor, he was no common low fae. A hunting knife lay by his right hand, the sharp tip pointed her way.

“Can I help you, lass?” the tavern wench behind the bar called out.

Reyna twisted away from the strange male in the corner and crossed the room in two quick strides. The tavern wench smiled and wiped her hands against her drab brown apron. With frizzing orange hair and matching eyes, she reminded Reyna of fire.

Reyna dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m looking for someone.”

The wench didn’t even bat an eye. Instead, she turned to the rickety shelves behind her and grabbed a metal tankard, along with a dusty bottle of Wood Whiskey. “Your someone, her name wouldn’t happen to be Suse, would it? ‘Cause that’s me.”

Reyna smiled when Suse slid the tankard across the bar. She dug into her pocket, thankful to find a few airgead had survived the sea. When she dropped the coins onto the bar, a wrinkle appeared between Suse’s brow.

“No, I’m looking for someone named Rhain.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. Then, she pushed the airgead back to Reyna’s side of the bar. “Careful, love. Best not go flashing those around anywhere else. It’s the sign of an outsider.”

A fist squeezed Reyna’s heart. “What?”

“Wood fae don’t barter with each other using airgead. The king took all our coin from us a long, long time ago. You throw that stuff around, everyone will know you’re not from around here.” Suse leaned closer, pinching her eyes together. “Such pretty silver eyes you have.”

Reyna took a step back, reaching for her dagger. A strong, unyielding hand closed around her wrist before she could draw it from her belt. Heart banging like a war drum, she whirled, fists raised. The creepy male from the corner towered over her, her nose only reaching the middle of his chest.

Growling, she ripped her arm away and snatched the dagger out of her belt. Fear whistled through her veins.

“I’d put that thing away unless you plan on killing the fae you’re trying to find.”

“Careful, Rhain,” Suse said. “I’d bet these airgead on her being an ice fae.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Rhain’s hand shot out. He gripped her wrist before she could blink, and squeezed so tight that her bones felt as if they might shatter from the strength of him. The dagger slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the timber floor.

“Now,” he said, swooping down to collect her dagger. He quickly pocketed it in his leathers. “Why don’t we go over there to my table, and you can tell me exactly what you’re doing here.”

Reyna flicked her eyes to the door.

“And don’t even think about trying to run. You do, and I won’t even hesitate to chop off your head.”

8

Lorcan

The dungeons were something straight out of his father’s nightmare mind. The cells beneath the castle had been built straight into the bedrock of the tunnels that twisted beneath the city. Several cells were nothing more than stone ledges suspended above the river of molten iron that ran beneath the earth.

Lorcan ground his teeth as he stood several feet back from the path, watching the flickering flames of the river. Several of the platforms were empty, but these cells had once been full. Not a single one of the prisoners had been freed before now, so that only meant one thing. They had either fallen into the iron river, or they had chosen to jump.

“There are approximately one hundred air fae prisoners left,” Nollaig said quietly, her hands tucked into her cloak pockets. Even with the orange glow flashing onto her hooded face, her features were obscured by shadows. Holas, her familiar, perched on her shoulder, staring at Lorcan with quiet menace.

“They appear to all be female,” Lorcan said through gritted teeth as he surveyed the forms curled up on the stone ledges, their long hair hanging into their gaunt faces. If the fae of the city were starved, these prisoners were practically living skeletons.

Nollaig flinched. “Yes, well. Your father did not really care to keep male prisoners. They were killed on the spot. He thought there would be some other…uses for the ones here.”

A low growl spilled through Lorcan’s lips. He knew all about his father’s lurid needs. He’d kept the female prisoners alive so they could join him in his bed. Bile rose in the back of Lorcan’s throat. How could he