He ground his teeth. This shadow fae was his enemy. He shouldn’t tell her a damned thing. She had no right to know what had happened to him as a boy. But he found himself speaking regardless. “My father knew where I was, but he did not know my mother had died. Why?”
“She told him where she’d be. The name of her village,” Nollaig replied, furrowing her brows. “Perhaps deep down she hoped he would come.”
“He should have known that she’d died. It’s been ten long years, Nollaig.” He kept his gaze rooted to the ground. “She got killed in the attack. Almost every fae died that night. The buildings burned down. Blood was everywhere.”
“I see,” she said quietly. “Did you see who attacked you?”
This time, Lorcan lied. Regardless of what he’d admitted so far, he could not explain the Fomorians to anyone. It would be a secret he carried to the grave. “No.”
“Well, we know who slaughtered all of these villagers,” she said, pointing to the burning village. “The air fae. And they’ve taken up camp inside. We’re here to drive them out. We might not save the ones who died, but we cannot allow them to remain. This is our land. They already took our city, our castle. We will not allow them to take anything else from us.”
Lorcan knew what she was doing. And it was clever, even if it wouldn’t work. The Air Court might have attacked this village, but it hadn’t attacked his. His enemies were the Fomorians. And he would never get the chance to shove his blade into the chest of those monsters. The ones who had murdered his mother.
“I am only here because I didn’t want to stay at the castle with my father,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I know. But you’re here, and I’m afraid you’re going to have to at least make a show of fighting. Even if you don’t kill any of them, you’re going to have to throw around that blade of yours. I won’t tell your father if you stay back, but the others will.”
Lorcan lifted his eyes from the ground. “Why?”
“Well, because they’re loyal to him, and they’ll want to get into his good—”
“No, why wouldn’tyoutell him? You’re one of his closest advisors. You forced me to come here.”
She was silent for a moment before answering. “I am loyal, but I have my own mind. I can serve him but not agree with his every decision.” She sucked in a sharp breath and turned away. “Now, enough of that. We must go and fight. I’d advise you to make it as convincing as you can.”
Nollaig fell back into step with the warriors, and Lorcan followed close behind. She and Segonax had been helpful ever since his arrival. Kind, almost. It felt like a trap. But a trap for what? They had already won. He’d come to the Shadow Court. He had taken the mark, transforming him into the prince his father had demanded he become.
That must have been it. He was their prince now. The heir to the throne. A strange thought flittered through him as they reached the edge of the village. Did that make him the future king?
Surely his father was not as misguided as that, to make an angry bastard the future king. Lorcan could kill him and take the throne himself. His father didn’t hold a Seat of Power. Lorcan would not be cursed if he took it by force, unlike the Selkirks of the Air Court.
A sharp pain cut through his arm. Lorcan stumbled sideways. He grasped at his arm, gritting his teeth. What the hell was that?
If you kill the king, then I’ll kill you, a strange voice whisperedfrom inside his own mind.
Lorcan jolted and stumbled into Nollaig. She grabbed him by the arms and held him upright. “Ah yes. That would be the mark kicking in. If it thinks you aren’t following your father’s orders, well…” She mimed slamming a blade into her head.
His heart pounded as he gaped at the faceless fae. What new horror was this?
“Unseelie magic,” she explained. “Your father thought it necessary. He would have asked for your promise, but seeing how us shadow fae can lie…it wouldn’t have bound you in quite the same way.”
“And you agree with this, do you?” he growled, ripping his arm from her grasp. “I thought all our magic was dead.”
“We best get moving, Lorcan.” She nodded at the back line of the warriors as it passed them by. “And remember what I said.”
But how could he possibly even pretend to fight alongside the very fae who had enslaved him? They’d dug dark magic into his skin to steal his free will for the rest of his life. He fisted his hands, wishing he could flatten every last one of them. He would steal the air from their lungs, and the blood from their veins. And it would not even be enough.
Pain roiled through him once again. It felt like a dozen swords had sliced through his upper arm. He could not help the roar that exploded from his throat. He had never before felt anything as terrible and as cruel as this.
Nollaig fell back once again and hauled him to his feet. The back of the line was now disappearing into the thick mists.
“Stop fighting it,” she hissed. “You won’t win. And even if you let it kill you, you know the king won’t stop there. Do this for your village if nothing else.”
Her words cut through his pain, chasing the crushing force of it away. Lorcan might have gladly sacrificed himself to see his father’s plan fail. But he would not sentence his loved ones to a terrible death.
He shook off Nollaig’s hands, but gave her a grim smile. “I don’t know why you keep helping me, but I won’t forget it. It seems I don’t have a choice. Let’s see how well I can play the part of a dutiful prince.”
She nodded, the long folds of her hood rustling around her hidden face. “For Comharra.”
