Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,83
His clothing was fine and the broach at his neck polished, gleaming against the light from the fire. With smooth midnight hair that swept down to his chest, he gave off an air of nobility. His thick beard twisted together into braids, each topped with a colorful gem. “Our High King has returned.”
He bowed low, motioning for the others to do the same. They all stood clumsily from their chairs, bowed, and waited for Lorcan to speak.
“Lord Tristin,” Lorcan said stiffly. “I appreciate the formality, but it’s not necessary. I need a word with you in private.”
The shadow fae’s dark brows arched. With a quick glance at his fellow courtiers, he moved away from the table and joined Reyna and Lorcan near the door. His voice dropped low. “Is something the matter? Who is this you’ve brought back with you?”
“This is not a conversation for many ears,” Lorcan said quietly.
Lord Tristin nodded. “Alright. Let’s go to my study.”
Lord Tristin’s study reminded Reyna of home. Despite their poverty here, the lord had managed to hang on to fragments of a world they’d once had. Detailed maps adorned the walls, framed in ancient wood. A thick, luxurious carpet stretched across the stone floor, and inviting red velvet sofas sat facing each other beside a wall of books.
Eislyn would love this room.
Lord Tristin poured a glass of wine and held it out for Lorcan.
Lorcan waved it away. “In my absence, it seems one of my priests used dark magic to invite Ulaid Molt into the city. He’s there now, slaughtering innocents.”
He stopped there, letting his words sink in. Lord Tristin’s neck bobbed. Then, he reached for the glass and downed it himself.
“How could this have happened?” he asked. “I thought he was staging a siege.”
“The priest impersonated me and surrendered the city. It ended with his head liberated from his body.” Lorcan’s fierce tone sent a ripple of desire through Reyna’s core. He had always been strong and powerful, but she had never seen him quite like this. His realm had needed him to step up and take on his new role with the dedication he was showing them now. This was never what he’d wanted for himself, and yet he’d done it anyway.
Her heart grew twice as large.
Lord Tristin let out a low whistle. “If the priest was impersonating you, then the wood king must have thought he killed you.”
“That’s exactly what he thought,” Reyna said. “Which is why he’s slaughtering the entire city. He’s looking for your High King.”
“This changes things,” Lord Tristin muttered to himself as he began to pace the length of his study.
“We have allies on the way,” Lorcan cut in. “The High Kings of the Air and Ice Courts are marching south as we speak. They’ll be here for Beltane.”
Lord Tristin glanced up. “Ice and Air combined, you say?”
“And Sea,” Reyna added. “It seems that after a hundred years of war, the realms are finally uniting to take on a common enemy.”
“And so once again you’d like to ask the warriors of Caraid to march to Findius, I’m assuming.” Lord Tristin nodded. “Princess Reyna. Did you happen to learn the size of the wood fae army? How many warriors do they have?”
“Eight thousand,” she replied. “Though there may be fewer now. There was a skirmish outside the Findius gates with some air fae warriors.”
His eyebrows winged upward. “How many air fae?”
“About eight thousand as well.”
Those eyebrows slammed down. “I’m assuming they lost.”
“It seems that way,” she said, glancing at Lorcan. “But I don’t know exactly what happened. I was already inside Findius by the time the battle ended.”
“The wood fae were feasting on blood that night,” Nollaig added, filling in some of the details that Reyna had already explained to her and Lorcan. “With a matched army…”
“The wood fae won,” Lord Tristin muttered with a fierce shake of his head. “And they’ll likely be high on it the next time the battle is brought to them.”
“That’s why we need all the warriors we can find,” Lorcan said. “With all of our forces combined, it should be enough. But if we hold back at all…”
Lord Tristin sagged against his desk, his eyelids fluttering shut. “You’re asking me to march my subjects to what might be a certain death.”
Reyna glanced up at Lorcan. He was their High King. Asking was not what kings did. They ordered. Lord Tristin had only one choice, despite what he might think.
“I’m asking, fiercely,” Lorcan said. “I will not make the order because I