Lochlainn had the audacity to look irritated, casting a side glance at Pogue.
I rubbed at my chest, encouraging my heart to keep beating, knowing my next words might halt it completely.
“My mother—” My eyes fell, refusing to witness the aftermath of my own destruction. “My mother is the murdered Skell Queen,” I rasped.
Shock stormed the room like an avalanche, burying me in its cold depths. A cacophony of whispers and swears echoed through the room.
Fecking fates!
She’s lying! The Hallow Queen died in childbirth!
It’s Luckmagic—you can’t lie!
My fucking stars . . .
“Luck be damned,” Keeffe swore.
“I hope you’re happy with yourself!” Aine snapped at Lochlainn. She took a slight step forward, then stopped, as if it warranted all her self-control not to attack him. “Jackless bastard!”
The cold floor fizzled into a blur. I’d forgotten how to blink, how to look anywhere else but the ground.
A warm hand wrapped around my lifeless wrist, but I remained kneeling, motionless. Leaning back on my ankles, I begrudgingly trailed my eyes up. Pogue leaned over, motioning for me to stand up.
His face was fierce and fuming. But there was a surprising pillowy softness as his eyes landed on mine, along with a shadow of unease.
My arm was guided up. I stood, body now visibly shaking.
What must he think of me . . .
I could feel every eye pinned on me. Even from my own friends around me. Their confusion was thick, palpable. And I could almost taste Breena and Aine’s panic, knowing how much this now-public information put me at risk.
Pogue studied my horrified face in calculation, as if my features were a map to strategize with.
He released me, headed for the bar with determined steps. Without warning, a die was forcefully thrown into the air. It blasted in a firework of green sparks.
The club froze, halted by the sudden glittery interference.
“Punch-Luck!” the bartender yelled, redirecting the on-looker’s attention. “Hit the bullseye—you win! Miss it—you get knocked out!” He handed Pogue a glinting dagger, pointing to a target on the far side of the wall.
What just—? Did he just?—?
Dangle anything remotely shiny and they’ll start following it,Aine’s words hung in my mind.
Pogue had distracted them. Ripped their attention away like removing leaches from skin.Myskin.
Never thought I’d see the day where I’d be so deeply grateful to him. Even if it was just out of what—sympathy? Pity?
A warm presence blocked my view of Pogue’s impending dagger-throwing.
“Carwynn.” Finley’s large hand cupped my face, looking torn. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
A wave of need warmed my core at his touch. The closeness was making me legless as the Liplock potion swirled to life again. I couldn’t stop looking at that handsome face. And those lips . . . god, I could kiss those lips. Ishouldkiss those lips.
His brows knotted, dragging me out of the intoxicating fog as those warm eyes pummeled me with guilt.
“Fin, I’m so sorry. I—” I closed my eyes briefly, releasing a heavy sigh. “Believe me, it’s not that I didn’t trust you. I just—I didn’t ask for this. Any of it.” I threw out a frustrated hand. “Just existing as my mother’s daughter puts a massive target on my back. Telling anyone else would likely add a target to theirs too or lead the Skell King to finding me quicker.” I pressed the base of my hand to my forehead. “Not that it matters now since I’m pretty sure he’s well aware of my existence after the Dullahan attack.”
Finley nodded empathetically and then stilled.
