Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,9

it. There was so much stuff crammed into every corner—an old armoire spilling clothes onto the floor, a collection of barrels that smelled suspiciously of whiskey, and dozens of paintings stacked vertically against the walls.

Eislyn’s silver hoarfrost cloak hung on a wooden hook by the door. Her heart twanged at the first snip of the scissors. Dark thoughts threatened to spill into her mind. In truth, she had lost everything. Her home, her family, her life. Vreis was gone, and so was any hope of any safety within the Ice Court. Everything had turned hard and cruel and wrong.

So, what was some hair next to all that? It was like a bloody appendage, clinging on to its body with one measly bit of flesh. In the end, it would lose. Might as well make it a clean break.

Still, her tears were hot in her eyes as the snip, snip, snip of the scissors continued, echoing louder and louder in her ears. The weight on her head lightened as great, big chunks of her hair fell like feathers to the wooden floor.

Gayle sighed and stepped back. “Alright, that’s about all I can do with the scissors, love. I can leave it like this, and the wig should work. Or I can finish it all off with a shave.”

Eislyn reached up and fingered the rough edges of her hair. She did not need to see it to know that she looked like she’d gotten into a fight with the scissors. It was all uneven, cropped short and jagged so that clumps of it stuck out from her head.

Tears slipped from her eyes, spilling onto her cheeks. “Go ahead and shave it.”

Eislyn stood on the bow, shielding her eyes against the midday sun. The ship slowed on the choppy waters as the island drew near. It would only be moments before they reached the shore. She reached up and felt the rough wig. It felt hot and scratchy against her shaved head, but she was thankful for the thick, scraggly strands of dusty blonde that covered her pointed ears.

Gayle shot her a sideways glance. “You never did tell me why you’re so intent on going to the Empire of Fomor. Why didn’t you want to take refuge inside a friendly court? I’m sure the Sea Court would have gladly taken you in, you being Thane’s betrothed and all. Or we would have sailed south, to your father.”

Eislyn’s heart almost shattered at the idea of home. After everything she’d been through in the past year, a part of her wanted nothing more than to curl up inside the library with a stack of books while Albin droned on about the dreary day-to-day business of life inside a castle. There were mouths to feed and grain to store and squires to train. All boring, mundane nonsense.

And it was the kind of nonsense Eislyn ached to find.

But she could find no one else to do this. Not unless she wanted to lose so much more time. And the fae had already lost enough of that. Her father probably wouldn’t believe her even if she tried to explain to him what she’d found. Glencora was still ill in her bed. Reyna was off doing Reyna things. Charging through the countryside on a quest to save a king.

Vreis was...gone.

Heart pounding, she reached up to her throat and wrapped her hand around his amber jewel. Her cheeks burned as memories flashed before her eyes. His flesh sliced. His blood painting the wooden floorboards. The power in her veins shooting from her palms, shattering her cousin into a thousand tiny shards. Someone she had trusted with her life.

Where had that power come from? She’d been too scared to give it much thought since it had happened, and luckily, it had not popped back up again.

With a heavy sigh, she turned her attention back onto the ship’s captain whose freckles almost seemed to glow beneath the steady sun. “I’m certain you wouldn’t understand if I tried to explain. It’s a very strange story, and a long one.”

Gayle cracked a grin. “And yet we had all the time in the world while we sailed from Snowport to here. I’ve heard a lot of crazy stories during my time spent on the seas. Trust me, yours wouldn’t be the worst of them.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” Eislyn said. “Besides, I’m not sure even I truly understand why I’m going.” When she’d first set her eyes on the distant shores of Fomor, she’d been