Her anger calmed, just slightly. “I know. And I’m glad. But that doesn’t solve the very crux of the issue, Lorcan. Someone inside this castle sent an assassin after me. They could very well do it again. What if Eislyn is with me during the next attempt? What if, this time, she doesn’t survive it?”
Lorcan shifted on his feet. He lifted an arm, almost as though he were going to take her hands in his, but then he lowered it just as quickly. Her heart beat a little faster. “They searched the body. Thane made some enquiries. He believes it was a low fae who somehow got past the guards at the interior castle gates.”
“A low fae decided to sneak inside the castle to kill me, not prompted, not paid?” Reyna arched a brow. “Do you truly believe that?”
“I believe the prince cares for the safety of both you and your sister.” Lorcan gently wrapped his hands around her arms and drew her away from the Dagda’s statue. “Which is why I cannot allow you to spy on the queen.”
She huffed but didn’t pull away. He strode backward, his eyes on her face, and she moved in sync with him, letting him guide her. She swallowed hard as their gazes locked. He’d worn his hair down today, and it fell in soft curls around his sharp cheekbones. A light stubble peppered his strong jaw. She wanted to reach out and trace her fingers along it. Most male fae preferred to keep their faces clean-shaven. She wondered what it felt like.
“You know,” she said, still walking forward while Lorcan strode backward, his hands locked on her arms, “I could pull away from you and make it inside the Adhradh before you could stop me.”
He smirked. “If you truly believe that, then why don’t you try it?”
Reyna grinned. She took one more step forward, and then twisted on her feet, yanking her arms to her sides as hard as she could. She ripped free of his grip and ran. The cold streamed past her, biting her face, her long gown whipping around her like a hurricane. She pounded her arms by her sides, throwing her feet forward as fast as she could.
Excitement tripped in her veins as she threw herself up the first set of steps. And then a strong pair of arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her to a stop. The scent of leather, smoke, and steel flooded her senses. Lorcan chuckled into her ear, his mouth so close that she could feel his hot breath on her skin.
Reyna twisted toward him, his arms still wrapped around her. Her hands splayed against his muscular chest. They had nowhere else to go. Heat flickered in his dark eyes. Her heart pulsed. The laughter died on her lips, and she could scarcely breathe.
Footsteps sounded in the distance. With a gasp, Reyna stepped back, and Lorcan dropped his arms. They both spun in unison to see Thane striding through the courtyard toward them. He wasn’t looking their way, instead animatedly speaking with his uncle beside him. Several more courtiers trailed closely behind.
“Oh, look,” she said in a strangled voice. “The others are arriving for mass. Perhaps I should go inside now.”
“All right,” Lorcan grunted.
With a deep breath, she pressed down the front of her now-rumpled gown, squared her shoulders, and turned away from Lorcan. She felt the heat of his gaze for the rest of the morning.
* * *
The days passed quickly. Eislyn continued to heal, and Reyna continued to make failed attempts at spying on the queen. The celebration feast was approaching fast, and Reyna had made no progress on finding out who had ordered her assassination. And she’d certainly made no progress on her plot to get the High Queen off the throne.
As she stood in her chambers watching yet another sunset across the Bay of Wind, she stroked Wingallock’s feathers and considered her options. As long as she was being watched and as long as she had no weapon, there was little she could do.
She needed more freedom, but she knew she wouldn’t get it. She needed to find someone who could go where she could not. Or someone who might know the truth. Someone who knew everything about everyone.
“What do you reckon, Wingallock?” she asked.
He twisted his head toward her and blinked. Wingallock had even attempted to spy himself, but all the queen’s important conversations seemed to take place behind closed doors where owls could not go. Nor could he ask questions if he found someone who might have the answers they needed.
She sighed. On the horizon, the grey clouds parted, revealing brilliant hues of orange and gold. The colors shined on the glistening sea, painting a magnificent portrait of the moment just before twilight. For once, the winds were still, but Reyna still felt the bite of the air all the same.
She did nottrulyknow who had been behind the attack—though her suspicions still laid firmly with the queen. But she did know one thing with absolute certainty. The first attack had failed, and someone wanted Reyna dead.
That meant there would surely be another.
“Wingallock,” she said softly. “I need you to go to Drunkard’s Pit. See what you can discover about the Bloody Dagger.”
19
Lorcan
Lorcan stood in the shadows, surveying the drunken fae. Despite the High Queen’s hesitation, Thane had convinced her to go ahead with the feast to celebrate their new alliance with the Ice Court. In the past days, news of the attack on the princesses had spread throughout the court, regardless of Thane’s hopes of keeping it contained. There were whispers circulating within the nobility, rumors that Imogen wanted the Darragh sisters killed.
This feast was meant to prove otherwise. Imogen might not approve of the betrothal, but she did not wish to lose the ice fae’s support.
Lorcan had a hunch where the rumors had originated. Reyna was dead-set on proving the High Queen was involved. So far, Imogen was still unaware of Reyna’s accusations, but he knew she would discover it eventually.
Rolling back his shoulders, Lorcan surveyed the feast. The Air Court had filled the Great Hall in a way it rarely did. Extra feasting tables had been packed into the white stone room, squatting between the thick pillars that supported the high ceiling. Thin strips of cloth dyed gold stretched across the center of each one, the ends draping over the sides and drifting to the floor. A head table had been erected just below the throne’s stone dais to hold a dozen of the highest ranking nobles.
