about himself? Because, from where I sat, he was pretty close to perfect. Minus the whole having me thrown in prison thing. And, perhaps, how exhausted he seemed.
As though it had a mind of its own, my hand stretched toward his face, my thumb stroking the dark circle under one of his eyes. “You need rest.”
His mouth twisted with dark amusement. “Is that your polite way of telling me I look like shit?”
I shook my head. “Never. But you do look weary, and I’m worried about you.”
He lifted a hand and placed it over mine against his cheek. “Sleep doesn’t help. That’s when I get worse. I keep trying to avoid it, but my body eventually gives in even when my brain is screaming no.”
“If sleep doesn’t help, what does?”
Killian’s gaze wandered over my face, assessing, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he saw. “I wish I knew.”
Killian
I’d lied to Imogen.
Well, technically, it had been more of an omission. It was true that nothing had been helping my condition. But her presence—first at the underground loch, and then in her room—had soothed me somehow. The mere sound of her lovely voice had eased my aches and chased away my growing fatigue.
Not that I could admit that to her. Or to anyone. Not while Ronan was convinced that she needed to remain our prisoner. And not when there were still so many unanswered questions.
Still, I’d regretted leaving her the moment I closed the door and locked her inside. I needed more of her. More of her goodness.
And I hated treating her like a common criminal. She deserved better, and Ronan, Flynn, and I kept failing her.
As I reached the Great Hall, I pushed thoughts of Imogen and my mysterious illness aside. Tonight was the first of a series of dinners in honor of the closely approaching tournament. Every competitor would be in attendance, and they’d all be watching me, searching for weaknesses.
I’d glamoured myself to hide my exhaustion, but a truly skilled magic user would be able to see past it. And I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that there was at least one of those in the room. Not just anyone turned up to compete in a King’s Tournament. These competitors were the best of the best from Tuatha and beyond.
Immediately spotting Ronan leaning against the wall, scowling at the world, I crossed the room to join him. I gestured to the milling “guests,” unable to ignore their general air of frivolity. “Enjoying the party?”
“This is bullshit. Why should we have to entertain all of these people when they’re the ones challenging us for the throne?”
“Tradition,” I answered automatically, though that excuse was getting old.
On this particular issue, I had to agree with my brother. There was more to being king than the ability to win a series of duels. Sure, the tournament tested strength, intelligence, and skill. But I doubted it tested vital qualities, like diplomacy or the desire to act in the best interest of our people.
The people of Tuatha deserved a rightful heir to the throne. Someone who had spent centuries being trained for the position. And that left only me, Ronan, or Flynn.
“I really hate that guy,” Ronan muttered.
Following his line of sight, I spotted none other than Culann, a famed warrior from Uladh, a neighboring kingdom. He stood a head above most other men in the room and wore armor like he expected an attack at any moment. Between his size, red hair, and ruddy cheeks, he might as well have been an Irish god. Hell, he thought so highly of himself, he’d probably started introducing himself as one.
Half of the women in the room were eyeing him with interest, including the one who accompanied him. I hadn’t met her personally, but there’d been plenty of rumors about the raven-haired beauty who kept a crow as a pet. The bird flew in after her, circling the crowd before perching on a beam. Morgan Tauroc was a highly sought-after socialite who had set her sights on Culann and was supporting him through the tournament...in more ways than one, if I had to guess.
“You can hate him or not, but he’s a real threat. We can’t take his presence lightly.”
Ronan grunted, probably because he couldn’t deny the truth in my statement. As I scanned the room, I saw plenty of men and women of strength and valor. Several who could give us a run for our money. But Culann was the one I was most concerned