Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,65

two bodies at her feet. “Unfortunately, I don’t think that calm is going to happen just yet. If we drag these bodies out into the street, it’ll only be a matter of time before someone finds them.”

“We can put them in the cellar,” Laoise said.

“They’ll rot.”

“Not for awhile.” Laoise toed one of the bodies with the tip of her boot. “By then, we’ll be out of here anyway.”

Reyna’s eyebrows rocketed toward her hairline. “Explain.”

“We’re going to get you back to fighting fit, and then you’re going to take out the wood king.” She shrugged, as if it made all the sense in the world. Maybe, to her, it did. “And then us shadow fae can move into the wood fae lands where we’ll have clean homes, fresh air, and food. Leaving this realm behind is the only way we’ll ever survive.”

Reyna sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m not what you think I am. I can’t kill the wood king. I tried.”

“You are the hero of the Battle of Fomorian Square.” She pointed at the fallen warriors at their feet. “I just saw how you can fight. If anyone in this godforsaken world can kill that monster, it’s you.”

Despair filled Reyna’s broken heart. Laoise was wrong, and her misplaced faith would only lead to disappointment. Or worse. Reyna had only been in her presence for a short while, and already two wood fae had tried to kill her. If she went too far down this path, fate would not be kind to her.

Lorcan’s vacant eyes flashed in her mind’s eye. Pain tore through her heart.

“He is more powerful than you think he is,” Reyna whispered.

“Well, then. This is why we’ll have to get you ready for him.” Laoise strode over to the cellar door and pried it open once more. She pointed at the hole that led into darkness. “You’re stronger than I am. You move the bodies, and I’ll make something for you that I think you’ll like.”

Reyna’s stomach growled. “You don’t have any food to share.”

“No, I have something better.” Her finger waggled incessantly at the cellar. “Now, come on. Before we have another round of visitors.”

Reyna sighed, but she did not have it within herself to argue. While Laoise bustled over to the hearth, Reyna knelt beside the heavier of the two warriors. She tucked her hands beneath his shoulders and dragged him across the floor. Blood still gushed from the wound in his neck, leaving behind a smear of crimson on the carpet. She rolled him over the edge of the hole and winced at the thunk of his body hitting the stone floor deep below them.

She made quick work of the second before tossing the carpet inside behind them both. Blood still stained the wooden floor, but she could scrub it out if they could find a pail and some soap. Might be difficult. The city didn’t have an abundance of running water.

“Here.” Laoise strode over to Reyna and shoved a metal cup into her hands. “Drink deeply.”

Frowning, Reyna lifted the drink to her nose and inhaled. The scent was a strange one, a mixture of potatoes, tangy herbs, and something else she could not quite place. It wasn’t pink though. “Is this Buntata?”

Laoise chuckled, the crinkle of her eyes showing mirth. “I’m afraid not. I haven’t had any spirits in years. It’s hard to come by in the Misty Wastes.”

“So, then what is this?” Reyna asked slowly. She did not want to distrust her new shadow fae ally, but she had learned long ago that many lived with hidden motivations. Just because Laoise had helped her did not mean she was a friend.

“Drink it, princess. It will calm your storm.”

“I doubt that.” But Reyna drank it anyway. She tipped the contents into her mouth and swallowed it in a single gulp. A bitter twang shot through her body, and a shudder went down her spine. She braced herself for the sharp sting of poison, but it never came. Instead, a heavy sense of calm settled over her like a thick, quilted blanket. The constant thudding of the Ruin against her skull suddenly ceased.

Eyes widening, her breath caught in her throat. She opened the door inside her mind, just a bit, just a crack, and waited for that ever-present voice. His taunting. His hissing. His cruel words, ones that rang true.

They did not come.

“What the hell is this?” Reyna clutched the metal mug. “Some kind of magic?”

“No magic,” Laoise said gently. “A brew of herbs and