For a moment, I stilled, then summoned what courage I had to open them. My chin lifted, one inhale away from his. A hand tightened on my back as the other traveled upward, gently wrapping around the base of my neck. He leaned in and?—
“Ladies and Gents of Luckland!” The imposing voice boomed across the room.
I jerked back. Finley’s hand dropped.
The musicians halted. Instruments paused mid-motion while others propped them up on their knees.
A hush swept over the guests, a breath winking out candles.
Multiple guards flanked the dais, each dressed in swanky suits with silky green vests—luxury that no doubt, concealed hidden weapons. Center stage stood a regal man holding a golden goblet raised high. Dark auburn hair gleamed under theorb lights and his aristocratic nose gave him an heir of quiet authority. His beard was shaved short, but carved in intricate designs, like meticulous fretwork.
The deep velvet tunic shimmered across his broad frame, fitted a little too perfectly to his build.Hello, surprise biceps.Beautifully knotted leather wrapped around his waist, and from it, a gleaming gold sword decoratively strapped at his side.
Faelad.
53
CARWYNN
I’d never methim before, but there was no mistaking this was Faelad in the flesh. He exuded royalty and it was impossible to miss the resemblance to Lochlainn.
Two guards suddenly stepped behind him, unfastening and delicately removing his long golden mantle in practiced movements.
A wide, almost boyish grin spread across Faelad’s face as he threw back the goblet and drained it in one long gulp.
Yep. Most definitely related to Lochlainn.
“Ahhhh!” he drawled, admiring the cup like it was his favorite brasser. “As good as ever!” He strained into a smirk, the kind that made it hard to tell if he’d enjoyed the wine or if he was about to declare it banned.
Laughter scattered throughout the sea of people. Faces lit up. Whispers bounced from mouth to mouth like bees on clover. They were truly elated to be in his presence.
Interesting. This was not how I pictured Faelad. I expected him to be lesscharming. I imagined him as a grumpy, beer-bellied middle-aged man, hunched over with power. Not thisreal Lord who wore leadership like a tailored wool coat. No, he was quite the opposite. Not exactly young, but he didn’t look so much older either. The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes foretold a life rich with laughter.
And the people—they seemed to adore him. Genuine, utter delight danced on their faces.
Veryinteresting.
Finley’s hand remained steady on my back as I rose up on my tippy-toes to get a better view.
“I thank you all for joining me tonight at our grand Fortuna Ball!” Faelad beamed, sweeping his arms out wide to embrace the crowd. Light scattered off his coin-melded crown, the gilded shamrock at its peak caught the glow with pride. “Tonight we celebrate Luckland—our land, ourpeople!”
The room roared. Hollering shook the walls, voices rising in excited calamity.
This really was something.
Faelad fanned the air, signaling for them to quiet. The larger than life smile darkened, becoming more serious.
The room fell silent.
My eyes caught movement in the corner of the ballroom. Swift and shifty.
Lochlainn and a few of his men pushed through the crowd, stationing themselves at the base of a column. Despite their lavish suits, I could still see his muscled arms flex as he crossed them. He casually leaned against the stone as if he were waiting for a fight to break out . . . in hopes he could finish it.
“Recently, we’ve faced troubling times,” Faelad began, voice deeper than before, tinged with sobriety. “An Ancient trespassed into our land. We’ve lost many great souls tooverindulgence,” he rumbled, sights scanning the room. “And rumors have spread of?—”
Those eyes slammed into mine like an arrow hitting its mark. Lips slowly parted, as if he’d forgotten how to breathe.
A shiver ran over my skin.
