Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,37

last chance to escape, not that she had any idea where she could go from here.

Reyna would fight, she whispered to herself. Vreis would fight.

With a deep breath, she curled her hands into fists and called upon the fearful rage she’d felt back in Snowport. Visions of Vreis’s bloodstained neck flashed in her mind’s eye. Despair and vicious anger stormed through her like a hurricane.

Electrical currents swept through her body, and the hair on the back of her neck stood to attention like sentinels. She threw her arms out to her sides and spread her palms wide.

Ice shot from her skin. It blasted the human behind her, knocking him back several feet. Shouts echoed all around her. Gritting her teeth, she glanced behind her. Blaine was sprawled across the dock. A shard of ice stuck out from his forehead. Blood dripped onto the ground.

“What the fuck!” one of the humans shouted, stumbling away from her.

A twisted smile lifted the corners of Eislyn’s mouth. Maybe she could be her own damn shield after all.

The nearest human lifted his fingers to his lips, and he whistled. The high-pitched screech cut like a knife against her eardrums. She winced, whirling toward the sound of thundering footsteps. Several Fomorians were hurrying her way. Wings stretched wide from their towering forms. She swallowed hard, heart thumping a frantic beat.

“Shouldn’t have done that, fae,” the whistling human growled at her. “Your magic might work on us, but it won’t work on them.”

Eislyn sucked in a sharp breath and whirled on her feet. If those Fomorians caught her, they would kill her in an instant. Their eyes flashed with a murderous glint she had seen far more times than she wanted to admit. In Aengus’s eyes. In Imogen’s eyes. In Sloane Selkirk’s eyes.

She had even seen that look on Reyna’s face, though not directed at her.

She threw her feet forward, pounding them hard against the dock. Before she even made it past the dead human’s body, strong hands circled her arms and jerked her back. Wings rushed by her head, and talons sliced into her flesh. Her head exploded with pain as something hard and heavy slammed against it. She slumped against the Fomorians, and all went dark.

Her cruel dreams did not plague her for once. She awoke from the darkness with a gasp, fear and anger churning through her like a storm. She blinked against a harsh light shining into her face. Everything around her was steeped in gold, including the towering male who stood before her, frowning down into her eyes.

“Hello. My name is Emperor Lir Lothian, and you are a fae who has trespassed upon my lands.”

She blinked up at him, her tongue heavy and dry in her mouth. He was unlike anything she had ever seen before, including the Fomorians on the dock. He was impossibly tall, towering over everyone else in the room, and his muscles rippled beneath the dying sunlight that gleamed against the golden floor of what she guessed to be his throne room. His dark hair was sleek and long and pulled away from his chiseled jaw. Sharp elongated ears speared the strands, and each tip was donned with golden piercings. An elaborate tattoo swirled across his bare chest, muscles rippling as he moved.

His eyes were dark. His skin was bronze. His lips were full and curving in their wicked smile.

She swallowed hard.

When she did not answer, he turned to the Fomorian standing on her right. He’d brought one of the humans from the ship along with him, along with a strange barn owl. He squirmed beneath the Emperor’s piercing gaze.

“Tell me who this is. Where has she come from?” the Emperor demanded.

“She?” Frowning, one of the humans slid a sidelong glance her way. “Forgive me, Your Excellence, but is this not a boy?”

“A boy.” The Emperor’s full lips curled. “I’m surprised you managed to spot she’s a fae when you cannot even tell she’s female.”

“But..” The human blinked, and then cast his eyes to the ground. “Forgive me, Your Excellence. My human eyes have deceived me.”

Your Excellence. Inwardly, Eislyn rolled her eyes. What a stupid title.

The Emperor’s gaze slid back to her face. His eyes burned right through her. “Where are you from?”

She wet her lips. “Tir Na Nog.”

“Which court?”

“Ice,” she whispered.

“Of course you are. I should have known.” He rolled his eyes and sighed. What did that mean? Why should he have known?

“A pretty ice fae princess, with an owl familiar, who has shaved her pretty ice