He ripped the mask away. The face beneath it was not one I’d seen before, at least that I remembered. He had pale, freckled skin, pale hair that was almost white, and an upturned nose like a ski slope. Lugh let out a heavy sigh, fisted hand braced on thefloor.
“Is he one of the wraiths here?” I asked in a softvoice.
“No.” He punched up from the floor and shoved his fingers into his hair. He’d gotten blood on his face, but I decided not to point that out just yet. “He was part of Athaira’s lot. One of the ones who liked her reign and was angry when I took over here. He left the castle months ago. I didn’t expect he’d come back, but I guess I waswrong.”
“Ohhh.” That made a lot of sense, based on what Saoirse had told me. I still didn’t know the full story, but I did know that Athaira had been cruel. If the fae who had actually liked Athaira still held a grudge... “So, does this mean we were wrong? That these traitors aren’t traitors at all, but more like...usurpers.”
“I’m the usurper,” he said roughly. “I took the castle from her after I learned of the abuse she rained down on her weaker subjects. These fae want their castle back. And they want Nemain to rule it instead ofme.”
“But that’s kind of good news, right? It means that none of the wraiths are working againstus.”
He shook his head. “There will be at least one. They are getting inside information somehow. They are getting access to the castle walls. Someone is letting them in, and is feeding them information. For example, they knew you were staying here at the palace, and they knew that I would be playing my harp which would drown out an attack. If I hadn’t been payingattention…”
And we still had no leads on who that was. Saoirse had been taken. And we’d been attackedagain.
I cocked my head at him. “How would anyone have known you’d be playing theharp?”
“I play it every night at eleven.” He gave me a long, scorching look from head to toe. “You’re covered in blood. You should take ashower.”
I pointed at my face. “You have some blood on yourcheek.”
His eyes softened, and he strode across the floor. “There’s some in your hair as well. Come along. Let’s get youclean.”
My heart thumped, though the flicker of excitement was quickly doused as I tiptoed across the floor. “What about this...mess?”
“Uisnech will take care of it. He will find good use of theblood.”
My footsteps faltered, but his hand quickly found my back, propelling me along. “Do I want to know what a hobgoblin does withblood?”
He let out a low chuckle. “He sells it to vampires. Fae blood is highly potent. And extremelyvaluable.”
Stomach twisting, I frowned. “Is it really a good idea to sell fae blood to vamps? What if they get a hunger forit?”
“They already have a hunger for it Moira,” he said smoothly. “Selling it to them prevents them from trying to take it by force. And none of us here wants a supernatural war inEdinburgh.”
Lugh led me to a door at the end of the hallway, opposite from the room that led to his quarters. Inside, an expansive bathroom gleamed before me. A large claw-footed bathtub sat before a floor-to-ceiling display of windows that overlooked the cliffs. To the right, there was a long stretch of sinks, the counters made up with a charcoal marble. On the opposite side was a shower. The kind with the rainforest shower-head and jets that shoot out from the side. The door to the shower was see-through glass, and the cubicle itself could fit at least two people, maybemore.
“Let me take that blanket,” he murmured, and I realised I still clutched the soft material tightly around my body. Nervously, I handed it tohim.
His eyes sparkled. “Don’t look so afraid. I won’t biteyou.”
That’s ashame.
Lugh leaned past me and flicked on the shower. Hot water poured from the large shower-head. Before I understood what was happening, he’d lifted my shirt over my head. Which meant I was now wearing nothing more than my bra andpanties.
His eyes scorched across my body. “Go on. Ladiesfirst.”
Heart thudding against my ribs, I stepped under the soothing spray of the water. Lugh began to turn away, seemingly to give me some privacy, but I cleared my throat. Hepaused.
“You need to shower, too,” I saidquietly.
His lips twitched, and in an instant, his clothes were a puddle of cloth at his feet. I kept my gaze rooted to the spot, which was the tiny little knob about chest height. I didn’t let myself look at him, mostly because I was scared I might turn into a puddlemyself.
Was he wearingpants?
My eyes flicked down. Damn them. The traitors. No, he was not wearingpants.
He was very, verynaked.
