Those negotiations—and the arrival of my nephews—distracted me for a while. But two days later, I reached out to my best friend again.
HK: I was surprised not to see Sadie at the town clinic. Or you.
MK: I didn’t tell her Brigid delivered.
HK: Alright, why are you being so weird?
MK: We’ll see them both in a couple more days, when they return to the fortress.
What in the hell?
I frowned down at that message and made a mental note to ask the Shadow King to kludge together a phone for Sadie.
Cian had sent daily updates on her vitals and emotional well-being during his turn, and though Tadhg hadn’t reported in, I’d assumed I’d be invited over to the Mountain Fortress, so it wouldn’t matter.
But not only had I not received an invitation from Tadhg, I was starting to feel uneasy about Sadie having no way to reach either of her other kings, especially since the fortress had no digital walls.
HK: This is worrying me. I’m officially requesting a visit.
MK: No. And it’s my week.
I started to type a response, but another message came through.
MK: She’s fine. I promise you. We just need some time alone. Please don’t come over here until you’re scheduled to pick her up in a couple of days.
I trusted Tadhg. And so did Sadie. They had a natural rapport, a higher-level connection that she and I hadn’t reached yet, even with our bond bite.
Still, I put down my phone with a bad feeling in my chest. But I decided to give the Mountain King the benefit of the doubt.
Then, in the middle of the night, I awoke to a psychic scream.
Sadie.
No more benefit of the doubt.
I tore toward the Mountain Fortress.
The closer I got to the fortress, the more I felt her distress as if it were my own, surging through the mutual bite of our bond.
By the time I reached the steps, I was nearly as frantic as she was—close to what I’ve heard panic attacks described as. But I still wasn’t close enough to get specifics, just waves of emotion. All of them huge. All of them bad.
I took the stairs in great, running leaps—only to stop short when I reached two massive metal doors, shut tight against me. True barrier doors. Not the digital kind, but handcrafted by some long-ago Mountain King to be immune to a god-tech override.
I cursed viciously just as footsteps pounded behind me and the Shadow King came charging up the steps. He must have felt her scream, too. All the way from the other side of the lake.
“Goddammit, Tadhg!” I yelled, pounding on the metal barrier. “Tadhg! Open this door! I swear to all that’s holy, if you don’t, you’ll have to shoot the both of us because we’re not leaving until?—”
The door swung open.
And there was Tadhg. More wrecked than I’d ever seen him—even at his mother’s funeral. Hair disheveled. Face drawn and haggard. His eyes were clear of bear-glow, but they were bloodshot and rimmed red.
Meanwhile, Sadie was still screaming.
Even though the fortress was soundproof, and I couldn’t hear her, Ifelther. This close, I had a clear image of her: locked in a room, banging on the door, begging to be let out.
Another nightmare about her mother? But no—if that were the case, why didn’t Tadhg wake her up?
I pushed through the panic, searched the bond, and realized… she wasn’t dreaming.
