Chills tingled down my spine as I spied an entry in Keelynn’s book:
The Gancanagh.
The last fae Keelynn had mentioned. A mythical creature who terrorized women.Thatsounded like the man I’d met.
“What do you know of the Gancanagh?”
Keelynn opened the book, licked her finger, and leafed through the pages to a story at the back beneath an illustration of a shadowy male figure. “The Gancanagh is one of the most wicked, with poisoned lips. Anyone who kisses him dies. He’s irresistible and preys on the women of Airren.”
Wicked. Irresistable. Preys on women.
Rían ticked all the boxes except one.
I’d kissed him and survived.
Either the stories were wrong, or Rían wasn’t the Gancanagh.
I was no closer to finding the truth than I had been when I’d arrived.
I set the book on the side table, letting my head fall back. “What about curses?”
“I don’t have a book on curses specifically. But everything I’ve read says they’re usually punishments for something terrible, cast by witches who practice dark magic.”
Punishments for something terrible.
The first piece of information that made any sense. Rían being cursed meant he probably deserved it.
“How do you break a curse?” I asked.
Keelynn toyed with one of her curls, reminding me of the way Rían had played with mine. “The only way to break a curse is with true love’s kiss.” A shrug. “At least, that’s what all the stories say.”
True love’s kiss?
Was that why Rían had asked me to kiss him?
No. There had to be some other reason. I didn’tknowthe man, let alone love him.
It felt like I was missing something barely out of my reach. Something important. Obvious even. What could it be?
“In all your reading, have you ever heard of a fae giving a human a wish?”
She drummed her fingertips against her lips, squinting toward the fire. “I think leprechauns are the only ones who grant wishes. But they’re almost impossible to catch unless you have a lot of gold.”
Perhaps Rían was a leprechaun then. “Have you read any books on leprechauns?”
“No.” Her mouth flattened. “You’re never this interested in fairy tales. What’s going on?”
“I . . . um . . .”Think, Aveen. Think.
Keelynn nudged my shoulder. “Is the husband hunt not going well?”
Husband hunt? That was the least of my worries right now.
“There are better ways to find a good man than to wish for one,” she said with a giggle.
A log in the fire popped, sending a shower of orange sparks across the marble hearth.
I couldn’t wish for a husband . . . could I?
