“Corbin, what happened?”
“You cried out,” I croaked. “I tried to get to you, but this…force—” I glared at Blake “—stopped me, and I tripped down the stairs.”
“I heard a voice.” Maeve’s lips pressed against my forehead, leaving a warm trail across my clammy skin. “It was Daigh. He was here.”
I shuddered. That was the voice I’d heard, too. The fae king himself. “Is he still here?”
“I don’t think so,” Blake said. “He had no physical form. Daigh is the most powerful of all the fae – it’s possible he could have cast his voice through the void in order to taunt us. It was probably a last ditch effort to distract us so the spell wouldn’twork.” He glared right back at me. “It very nearly worked, but we managed to put up a ward that should hold them for a few days.”
The six of us traipsed back to the castle, holding onto each other’s exhausted bodies as we clambered up the hill and wound our way through the flowerbeds and topiary avenues. I tried to avoid looking at Blake because the silhouette of his broad shoulders and the way his hair caught the silvery moonlight made my body shake with rage.
This is my coven. No way am I letting that Unseelie traitor take it away from me.
Once we reached the castle and were inside the Great Hall, my feet stopped working. I collapsed on the sofa, too tired to tackle the stairs at that moment. Everyone else looked beat, too – between the two rituals and the cops and Daigh’s revelations and the sleeping draughts and Blake’s unwanted appearance, it had been a bloody long night.
Arthur carried Maeve up the stairs in what was becoming their ritual. They murmured to each other, some secret conversation that made Arthur’s eyes gleam with something other than suppressed rage for once. Maeve was good for him. The rawness of her grief balanced his anger, gave him a purpose. When Arthur was protecting someone, he didn’t feel like such a total no-hoper. I could relate to that.
Flynn loped up the stairs, too tired to even come up with some dumb insult to finish the evening. Blake made an elaborate show of yawning. “So, I guess I’m sleeping on the couch.”
“There’s a guest room. First on the right at the top of the stairs. The bed’s already made and I’ll grab you a towel when I come up.” Rowan stared at Blake’s feet.
“I appreciate the hospitality.” Blake started for the staircase. “How near is it to Maeve’s chamber?”
I glared at Blake.If I had strength left to swing my fist, you’d be eating it, you Unseelie wanker.
Blake shrugged, unperturbed by my obvious annoyance. “The fae always said you humans had no sense of humor.”
Blake’s footsteps receded up the staircase. Rowan patted my knee softly, then withdrew his hand as though I’d electrocuted him. It was weird, even by his standards, but I didn’t have the energy to wonder about Rowan and his tics now.
“I need tea.” Rowan stood, still staring at the floor, and shuffled to the kitchen. He usually went to bed at exactly the same time each night after finishing a cup of herbal tea and counting all the window panes in the Great Hall. Even though it was several hours past his bedtime, he still had to finish the routine.
I’d been trying to get Rowan to visit a doctor for years to have what was likely obsessive-compulsive disorder officially diagnosed so he could get treatment. His obsessions clearly caused him anxiety. He said that after rehab he was done with doctors. I had to respect his decision, since I was the one who dragged him to rehab in the first place.
I tried to will my feet to move. They didn’t obey.
Rowan returned, carrying his cup of tea and casting his eyes around to the windows, his mouth moving silently as he counted each pane. The tension in his shoulders slipped away as he relished the comfort of his ritual.
“Corbin, go to bed,” he said.
“I will.” My vision blurred. Rowan’s face swum in and out of focus.
“No, you won’t. You can’t go on like this. We need you, and you’re no good to us if you don’t sleep.”
Rowan was the only one who knew about my insomnia, and that wasn’t by my choice. He got up at stupid-o’clock to proof his bread loaves, and he’d caught me still working in the library too many times.
“Hey, I don’t bug you about your problems,” I snapped, then immediately regretted it. Rowan stared at his shoes. “Sorry, mate. I didn’t mean it. You’re right, I’m just wrecked. We can’t do anything until we know what the fae were trying to do with those babies, and I can’t find anything in the books that will help.”
“Maybe it’s not in the books.”
I grunted. That wasn’t an option I was willing to consider right now. Not until I’d pored over every single word in that damn library.
“Corbin, go to bed. You look like shite.” Coming from Rowan, with his kind eyes wide with concern, the comment tugged at something inside my chest.
“Everything is bollocksed up.” I rubbed my eyes.
“I know you don’t want him here,” Rowan whispered at the floor, his words so soft I couldn’t be sure if I heard them correctly. “You never asked for him to come, not like you did for us. You are the heart of Briarwood, and nothing will change that.”
Rowan’s voice trembled, the words catching in his throat. I blinked, but before I could think of anything to say, Rowan had retreated up the stairs. He threw a final look over his shoulder, a look that shuddered with something like longing, and then he disappeared onto the upper floor.
