Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,51

words still sounded so strange coming from her mouth. A wife. And not just any wife, but the wife of this horrible creature who wanted nothing more than to make her life a living hell.

“It might count for something if you weren’t fae.” With a sigh, he strode across the floor and held out a hand. “You need to be more careful here. This might be your home, but not every face you meet will be a friendly one.”

“So I’ve realized,” she said dryly.

She stared at his hand. Instead of taking it, she hauled herself up from the floor. Her legs were shaky, but she stood tall. It would take more than an asshole Fomorian to knock her down for good.

“I’ll walk you back to your quarters,” he said quietly.

“Not necessary. I know the way.”

“You’re not walking through the palace by yourself.”

“Except I am.” She lifted her chin and met his fierce gaze.

“Eislyn.” He growled and took her elbow in his firm hand. She tried to rip out of his grip, but he was far too strong. “I’m walking you back to your quarters, and it isn’t up for discussion. If you want some books, tell Druid Evin which titles you’d like. A lot of our books are in Fomorian, but we have plenty in the Tir Na Nog tongue. He’ll bring you everything you need.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back. “I want to find the books myself.”

“That’s not going to happen,” he said, dragging her toward the door.

She tried to resist by digging her heels into the wooden floor, but they just scraped along as if she were a cart being dragged along by a horse. He kept it up the entire walk back to her quarters where he then practically tossed her inside the room. The barn owl hooted at her sternly, which only added to her frustration. She knew he couldn’t be her familiar, but couldn’t he at least take her side?

For a moment, Emperor Lir stood in the doorframe glaring at her. He looked as though he had something to say, but all he did was stare.

“What?” she shot, fisting her hands. “You thinking of doing the same damn thing your friend wanted to do to me?”

He blinked, his lip curling. “I wouldn’t debase myself by touching a fae.”

And then he was gone.

18

Reyna

Reyna edged closer to the tent, pulling her dagger from her waistband. She inched around to the side, out of sight of the guard who stood watch for enemies. Voices drifted through the flap.

“The air fae have reneged on our alliance,” the violet-eyed warrior said. “They’re attacking our army.”

“How very interesting,” the wood king replied. “I didn’t think they had the balls.”

Reyna darted from the shadows and slammed her dagger into the warrior’s neck. He grunted, eyes widening, and she slammed her hand against his mouth. As he fell, she caught his weight and slowly lowered him to the ground. Grunting, she pulled him away from the tent’s flap, sweating from the sheer effort.

When she was done, she wiped her dagger against the ground and inched back to the opening. Reyna pressed her back against the linen tent and peeked around the edge of the flap. The gap in the material was only big enough for her one eye to peer inside, but it was enough to give her a view of the king and his advisors. There were four of them in total.

“What would you have me do, Your Highness?” the warrior asked stiffly.

The High King drummed his fingers on the war table where a map stretched out, edges of the parchment curling in the heat. “I suppose you ought to put a stop to it, don’t you think?”

The guard’s face blanched. “Of course, Your Highness, but how? Their numbers match ours.”

“Where’s that Aengus creature?” the king asked with a frown. “He has no guts about him. He should be easy enough to capture. Threaten his death if the air fae don’t comply.”

The guard shifted uneasily on his feet. “It seems there is no love lost between the air fae and their Grand Alderman. They’ve killed him, and put his head on a pike. One of them is running through the camp with it.”

“Ha!” Molt grinned. His chin wobbled as he laughed. “Good riddance!”

“My liege.” A priest in midnight robes gently cut in, his face hidden by the folds of his hood. “I know the Grand Alderman’s death is of no concern to you, but we really cannot allow those