Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,71
one thing she could not bear. “Please, I don’t—”
“Eislyn,” he said in a surprisingly tender tone. “I am not going to touch you.”
“You just nibbled on my hand.”
“You’re right. But I didn’t mean it like that. I will not claim you in bed. All I plan to do is keep a close eye on you. You can even bring your owl along to watch over you. I have a feeling if I tried something, he’d peck my eyes out.” He grinned.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” she whispered. “I’ve done what you’ve said. I’ve stayed locked up in this room, and I’ve only left with Druid Evin for food and walks. All I’ve done is read some books.”
“Books about the Dionadair.”
She threw up her hands, frustrated. “What’s wrong with that?”
A strange expression flickered across his face. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?” she shouted. “You clearly know something about it. You and the Fomorians survived it. You still have your magic, and you’re as strong as you’ve ever been. Why can’t you let me read about it? Why can’t you let me find a way to stop—” Realization crashed over her. She took a step back. “You don’t want me to research it, because you don’t want me to find out how to stop it. You want the Dionadair to spread across Tir Na Nog. You want us all to die.”
With a growl, he turned his back on her and stalked toward the window. “You silly little fae. You have no idea what you are dealing with.”
“Well, then tell me,” she cried out, following after him. “Help me understand. Tell me what it is.”
“I won’t,” he hissed. “I can’t.”
“Because you want all of us to die,” she whispered. “At least admit it. Tell me you don’t want us to know because—”
“I don’t want you to know, Eislyn.” He whirled back toward her, his eyes flashing. “This has nothing to do with Tir Na Nog, and everything to do with you.”
“But.” Taken aback, she reached up to feel the owl’s smooth feathers against her fingers. Something about his soft touch grounded her. “Why me?”
He huffed, his jaw clenching.
“It’s because I have magic, isn’t it?” she asked. “Unlike all the other fae. Despite the Fall, I still have some.”
He laughed. “Ha. You and your bloody magic. That ice you conjured is nothing compared to the powers of the Fomorians.”
“And yet you are afraid enough of it to trap me here,” she pointed out, narrowing her eyes as she stalked toward him. “Admit it. There’s something you need from me, and it has something to do with my powers.”
Lir lifted his hand. Ice flickered across his skin, forming a ball in his open palm. He tossed it against the wall where it shattered into a thousand tiny shards. “Your magic is nothing I haven’t seen or cannot do myself.”
Eislyn pressed her lips together, her heart trembling. “But there’s a reason. There must be. And it has something to do with the Ruin or you wouldn’t toss books into fires to stop me from reading about it!”
He arched a brow. “The Ruin?”
“That’s what we call it,” she said with exasperation. “The Dionadair. We’ve always called it the Ruin because it destroys everything it touches. It kills everyone who comes into contact with it—”
“I know what it does,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen the Dionadair with my own two eyes.”
She stood a little straighter. This was the most she’d been able to get out of him so far, though it wasn’t much. “You have? When?”
His eyes darkened. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?” She threw up her hands.
“Because I cannot speak about it with you.”
“But why?” She almost cried the word. Her desperation was so fierce that it almost brought her to her knees. She’d come all this way for one reason and one reason only. To find a way to stop the Ruin. She’d gotten trapped. She’d been wed against her will, and she was surrounded by enemies every hour of the day and night. And now she was being told she couldn’t even read about it.
“It’s not like you’ll ever let me go.” She took a step closer to him. “Who am I ever going to tell? You’ve bound me here. I’m stuck inside this palace. The only way I can leave is with you.”
“I’ve already explained this to you,” he murmured. “I am not worried about anyone else knowing about it. It’s you, Eislyn. You’re the infuriating problem in all of this. And no, I