Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,69

the darkness.

She, Finnegan, and Laoise sneaked out into the streets while Kelan and Duana stayed behind with the other rebels. A heavy rain slashed down from the skies, drenching them instantly. Reyna pulled her borrowed cloak tighter around her body and shuddered at the sudden boom of thunder. Unease raised the hair on her arms. There was no ash here. No clouds stuffed full of magic and death. But the storm still scraped against her newfound strength.

It all felt too familiar.

Sucking in a deep breath, she shook away those thoughts. She had to stay strong. She could not give up now. There was only one thing keeping her foot moving in front of the other. And that was the thought of killing the wood king once and for all. For Lorcan.

He would want his people safe.

Reyna rushed through the storm with the shadow fae. The downpour plastered her cloak to her skin, and rivulets of rain raced down her chilled face. They didn’t speak as they ducked through alleys and slid through the mud. She didn’t spot any wood fae, but that did not mean they weren’t lurking around the next corner. Best to be quiet and quick.

At long last, Finnegan slowed to a stop outside of an imposing black stone building that hulked in the shadows like a monstrous beast. Located on the outskirts of the eastern edge of the city, it cast its tall shadows against the churning sea. The windows were boarded up, and strange drawings had been etched into the walls. Stick-like figures dancing and whorling against a red sky.

Reyna wanted to ask about the drawings, but there was no time. Finnegan pounded on the Illusion House’s door. A small hatch flipped open, and a single red eye peered out.

“Finnegan?” a voice whispered beneath the booming thunder.

“Let us in,” Finnegan growled, glancing over his shoulder at the dark, slick streets. “We need to speak with you about something important.”

The hatch slammed shut, and the door creaked open. A shadow fae darkened the doorway, donned in head-to-toe shadowsteel armor. His gleaming red eyes were the color of the mist-enshrouded sun, and his dark hair hung around his shoulder like strands of wet grass.

“Who’s this with you?” The shadow fae’s eyes narrowed as he slid his gaze down the length of Reyna’s body. “Don’t tell me you’ve made friends with one of those bloody wood fae.”

“Brody, this is Princess Reyna Darragh.” Finnegan stepped in and braced his hand against the door. “Let us in. They’re looking for her.”

“Reyna Darragh? Dammit, Finnegan. You should have stayed at the house,” the shadow fae hissed, ushering them inside. “What were you thinking, coming all the way here when there are wood fae marching through the streets, ready to kill any of us if we even blink at them wrong? With her?”

“We came here looking for Nollaig,” Finnegan said, shaking the rain off his cloak. “Is she here?”

Brody frowned. “Why in god’s name would Nollaig be here?”

Reyna sagged. She closed her eyes. All the fragile hope she’d managed to scrabble onto vanished into the mists. Nollaig wasn’t here. Which meant…the wood king must have gotten to her, too.

“Her king is dead,” Finnegan said. “I thought she might come here. You know how she is. She loved the bastard. I can’t see her staying inside that castle and serving his murderer.”

Dead. Bastard. Murderer.

Reyna’s hands fisted. She felt herself take a step back toward the door, to the rain, and the thunder, and the lightning that called to her. This had been a mistake. Hope had been a mistake.

“She did come by here. A week back. Maybe two. Asked me if I could pass out some of our stored food to the city. Said to hold tight, that she was heading south to see what they could find by way of allies in the coastal lords.”

A strange sensation prickled the back of Reyna’s neck. “The coastal lords?”

“Aye. The ones who refused to come when Bolg called,” he said with a shrug. “She thought they might have some more luck with them than he did. Those lords aren’t fans of Unseelie or dark magic or illusions or any of it at all. They’ve turned to the Dagda, like our High King did.”

“Nollaig went south,” Reyna repeated, her heart thumping.

“That’s what she said.”

She wet her lips. “And you think she was going to round up another army to fight against the wood king?”

“I’d say so. Hell, I’d even say she’s probably already on her way back.