Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,73
face and the next he was acting like he wanted to wrap her in hoarfrost silk. “I know you hate me, and I don’t blame you for that. But I need you to open up to me just this once. Tell me about your dreams.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, taking a step away from him. “You’ve taken everything from me. I won’t let you take my dreams, too.”
Sighing, he swept his dark gaze across her barely-clothed form. “I am glad Dearg is not here to see you dressed like this.”
“Oh.” Swallowing hard, she hated the red hot heat that swept through her body, warming her from head to toe, and many places in between. This was Emperor Lir, the Fomorian who had forced her to become his bride. He’d trapped her here. Nothing he said or did should get that kind of reaction out of her.
And yet she could not ignore the way the moonlight glistened across his bare chest. She wondered what the ridges of his abs felt like.
But not enough to lift her fingers to his skin and find out.
“I should go back to sleep,” she said, her voice far more high-pitched than it had been a moment before.
He shuddered, dragging his gaze away from her. “Very well. I won’t push it further right now, but I will need to know about your dreams, Eislyn. Sooner rather than later.”
“But why?” She fisted her hands. “I know you say you can’t tell me, but at least give me something. It’s not fair on me otherwise.”
He pressed his lips together, hesitating. “Very well. There is one thing I can tell you. Your dreams may not be mere dreams. They may be portends for the future.”
25
Reyna
“There are guards at the gates.” Finnegan ducked behind the empty barrels stacked up in the middle of the street. Remnants of a previous battle that had never been cleaned up. The three of them huddled together, their heads bowed so close their foreheads touched. It had turned out to be a hell of a lot harder to get out of the city than Reyna had thought.
“Why are they guarding the gates?” Reyna hissed. “I thought they were too busy terrorizing the city to care who got inside this place from the Misty Wastes.”
“I don’t think they’re worried about who gets in, love,” Laoise said softly. “They don’t want anyone to get out.”
Out, like them.
“We’ll just have to fight them,” Reyna said with a sigh. “There’s no telling how close Nollaig is now. If we don’t warn her, her army will have no idea what’s waiting for them. How many guards are there?”
“Three,” Finnegan said with a nod. “One for each of us.”
“Three. That’s not too much.” She pulled Laoise’s calloused hands into hers. Her grip was weak; her flesh was clinging tightly to her bones. “I want you to go back to the Illusion House.”
Frowning, Laoise tried to pull free, but Reyna held on tight.
“Absolutely not,” she said fiercely. “You need my help.”
“I do need your help. When I get back from warning Nollaig.” She pulled the shadow fae’s hand to her heart and smiled. “I can take some of your herbs with me. That’ll keep me going for a few days.”
“Princess,” Laoise whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“You’re not a fighter, Laoise, and I mean that in the kindest way possible. Stay here. Get the rebels ready. Even with the army, I expect we’ll need every fighter we can get if we truly want to retake this city from the Wood Court.”
Darkness flickered in Laoise’s eyes, but she dug through her bag and pressed the herbs into Reyna’s hands. “Take this at least once a day. You’ll need some in a few hours. Don’t forget them, princess. You need to keep your storm at bay.”
Reyna slipped the herbs into the pocket of her cloak, and then threw her arms around the shadow fae. “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me, Laoise. Now, go. Keep yourself safe.”
Laoise patted Reyna on the cheek, and then scurried down the street toward safety. Once she was out of sight, Reyna turned back to Finnegan. He was eyeing the guards ahead with flattened lips.
“That was good of you,” he grunted.
“Laoise has many gifts, but she’s not a fighter. I don’t want her to get killed. Anyone else would have done the same.”
His slid his eyes her way. “That’s the thing. They wouldn’t. But the hero of the Battle for Fomorian Square would.”