“And what would you have me do instead? Return to Tairngire and sit on my throne, all the while knowing that I have condemned an innocent, caring, beautiful fae to die? If I never show up, he will kill her just as he always planned. Tell me that isn’t the truth. Tell me he will let her live if I do not go.”
For once, Lorcan did not want to lie to his old friend. He saw the hurt reflected in his eyes, the fear and pain and horror of his choice. Either he walked toward his own death or he walked away from the female he loved. Lorcan knew that wasn’t even a choice.
“I will go instead,” Lorcan said quietly. “Reyna is there, too. I will get them both out of there alive.”
Thane snorted, flicking his reins. He called over his shoulder as his horse broke out into a trot. “They will kill you on sight. Come, old friend. If we’re forced to walk to our death, then at least we can do it together.”
* * *
Afew hours later, they stopped at a small clump of trees just off the road. The sun was beginning to set on another day, the evening orange sky bringing with it a whip of harsh wind. The cluster of trees sat beside a gurgling stream that forked off of Mill River. There, they found Reyna’s speckled mare along with her owl who was circling overhead. The owl swooped down and landed on Lorcan’s shoulder, hooting in what he could only translate as intense agitation.
Reyna had once told him that her soul was linked to his, that Wingallock was a part of her just as she was a part of him. Lore spoke of the ancient days of fae and familiars, where if one died, the other soon followed. They could not exist alone, nor could they spend too much time apart. Lorcan had always wondered if the intensity of that magic had faded over time. Certainly, it must have, just like the rest of the magic in the world.
But he had seen Reyna’s face that night she’d been separated from her owl. He had witnessed the cold sweep across her skin. They were as linked as two beings could ever be.
“She’s alive then, isn’t she?” he murmured to the bird. “Otherwise, you would not be flapping around with so much energy.”
He smiled fondly at the owl and ruffled his feathers. The feel of his wings reminded him of the softness of Reyna’s skin beneath his hands.
He glanced over to find Thane staring at him with his refined, courtly brow arched high. “I do believe that while I have been distracted by my own worries that I have missed something incredibly important.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Lorcan asked smoothly.
“Don’t play coy,” Thane said with a fond smile. “Reyna clearly means something to you.” He gave Lorcan an appraising look. “It makes sense. You are far more alike than any two people I’ve ever met. It’s why you argue so much.”
Lorcan held his tongue. Even if Thane’s words hinted at the truth, he didn’t feel ready to speak it aloud. He’d held so many secrets inside of him for so long, he didn’t know how to deal with the exposure of one, even as new as the secret was.
“It is fine, Lorcan,” Thane said, tossing a stone into the stream. “You know I never loved the girl. In fact, far from it.”
Lorcan relaxed.
Dark forms burst out from behind the trees. Lorcan grabbed Thane and pushed the king behind him, drawing his sword from his back. He held the blade ready, eyes narrowed as he took in the enemy. There were maybe fifteen of them. Instead of the gold-dyed leather armor that signified the Air Court, these warriors donned grey scales and wielded swords forged from shadowsteel with twisting antler hilts. Their faces were partially obscured by thick metal helmets, but Lorcan could make out dark skin, dark hair, and even darker eyes.
They were shadow fae.
His heart thumped. “Back off. We have nothing for you.”
He spoked the words as if they were mere thieves, aiming to rob them of their jewels. But Lorcan knew they were anything but. The shadow fae had somehow made it into the Air Court, and they had found him.
“Prince Lorcan,” the nearest shadow fae said, lowering himself to kneel on the grass. “We come bearing news from your father who has reclaimed the Findius Stronghold.”
57
Thane
Prince Lorcan?Thane felt punched in the gut, near to toppling from confusion. And betrayal. Prince Lorcan.
Prince.
When Thane had first met his warrior friend, he had learned that Lorcan was descended from a shadow fae father but that he had been born in the grasslands by an air fae mother. He’d said that he did not know who his father was. If these scale-clad warriors spoke the truth, then Lorcan was…the son of King Bolg Rothach, the current ruler of the exiled shadow fae.
It couldn’t be true. That would mean his oldest and most trusted friend had spent years lying to him. Not only about his identity but about the brotherly bond that they shared.
Because if Lorcan truly was the son of King Bolg Rothach, then he had never been inside the Air Court as Thane’s friend.
He would have been there as a spy. An enemy.
Lorcan stood stiffly, frowning down at the warriors kneeling before him. “I am afraid you must be mistaken.”
