Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,68

she were a desert of sand and wind. Parched. There was no longer even a fizzle of it within her veins. When she’d tried to take on the Coinchenn, at least ice had surged within her. That ice was gone now.

“Listen, Princess Reyna,” Finnegan drawled. “I appreciate what you did for our city. I think we all do. You’ll always be our hero of Fomorian Square, even if you don’t have that magic of yours. However…how are you going to help us if you’re no more powerful than any of the rest of us?”

Reyna’s heart thumped. It was a fair question. “With help.”

Finnegan arched a brow. “What kind of help?”

“Nollaig. Commander Segonax. They were loyal to…” She swallowed hard. “They’re on our side.”

Kelan leaned forward, his hair dropping into his eyes. “And what can they do that we can’t?”

“They know the castle better than anyone else, and they’re two of the strongest fighters I’ve ever met.” Reyna leaned forward, dropping her voice into a whisper. “I’ve faced off against Ulaid Molt. His blood is thick with dark magic. He’s surrounded by loyal guards. We may not be able to kill him in a fair swordfight, not without magic ourselves.”

Kelan’s lips curved dangerously. “What are you suggesting?”

“We find a way inside the castle and do whatever we have to do. Poison him. Kill him in his sleep. Leave a hidden blade inside his crown.”

“It’s an interesting plan, but there’s one problem with it.” Finnegan sighed. “Don’t you think your Nollaig and Commander Segonax are already dead? If they’re loyal like you say, Molt wouldn’t want to keep them around. I doubt they stood quietly aside while High King Lorcan got killed. They even groomed him to rule, from what I’ve heard.”

Reyna winced, another piece of her heart shattering at the sound of Lorcan’s name. Her nostrils flared as she struggled to breathe. Lungs tight, teeth clenched, it was all she could do not to break down all over again. She did not think it would ever fail to hurt this horribly. Ulaid Molt had punched a hole through her chest. She did not know how new bones could ever grow to fill the space left behind.

“Nollaig and Seg were not in the throne room when it happened,” Reyna choked out. “It’s possible they got away alive.”

“Possible but unlikely,” Duana cut in. “The king has his warriors searching the streets and killing anyone they think might be against him.”

“They know about us,” Finnegan added, rubbing a hand against the scar that curved down toward his jaw. “Or at least Nollaig does. If she’s alive, she would have thought to check in with us. She isn’t the type to take something like this sitting down. She’d want to hatch a plan like yours.”

So, it was all hopeless.

Reyna flattened her palms against the table and glared down at the rough wood. Even with Laoise’s brew taking the edge off of her pain, a painful wind threatened to charge through her and ram against her mind. Grief wrapped its thick tentacles around her ankles, tugging her down into the depths of the raging waves.

“She could have gone to the other house,” Laoise said, cutting through the building storm inside Reyna’s head.

Hope lifted its tired head. Reyna turned toward Laoise. “The other house?”

“Aye,” Finnegan said. “We took over another Illusion House when we got too big for this one. It’s on the other side of the city.”

“And Nollaig knows about it.”

“That she does.” Kelan chuckled. “She tried to stop us from going after Bolg on more than one occasion. Told us it wasn’t time just yet. Said they wanted to get everything into place first.”

“And then she killed the bastard herself.” Duana scowled. “I would have liked to have a chance at him.”

“This other house,” Reyna repeated, trying her level best not to hope too much. What she would give to see Nollaig’s…well, not her face, but her hood. “How far a walk is it from here?”

Finnegan leaned back into his chair, the wood creaking beneath him. “Depends on how many wood fae warriors are between here and there.”

Reyna fisted her hands. “Not enough to stop us. Take me to your friends.”

They waited for nightfall, even though it made Reyna’s skin itch. The longer they waited, the worst things would get, and her soul yearned to see a familiar face again. But the wood fae were not as accustomed to moving through the shadows. The rebels had a better chance of staying out of sight in