Lorcan lifted his chin. “For Comharra.”
Together, they took off after the rest of their company. The other warriors had already pushed into the village and the song of swords filled the night air. Lorcan slowed as they approached. Smoke curled into the air, and the hot glow of fire showed the gruesome chaos of the air fae’s attack.
The bodies of fae with shadow-kissed hair were scattered across the blood-soaked ground. Skulls had been cleaved in two, and unseeing faces were mottled and bruised. Horror churned in Lorcan’s gut when he spotted a pile of females and children. He pressed a hand to his mouth.
Not a single forsaken soul had survived.
“The air fae did this?” He just could not bring himself to believe it, even as their golden banner hung from the stone structure that hunkered in the middle of the chaos.
“But that’s impossible. They aren’t this…”
“Cruel?” Nollaig asked. “Every court is capable of cruelty, Lorcan. The Air Court most of all.”
Lorcan closed his eyes.
“It’s the courts. And all that power. It can turn anyone into a monster.”
He had to admit the royals of the Air Courthaddemonstrated brutality, too, particularly amongst themselves. The High King had stolen the throne, conquering it from the previous ruling family. None of the royals had thought much of it. They had just let him do it. Innocents had died then, too, when Sloane Selkirk had swarmed the city with his warriors.
And now he’d sent his warriors here to Bilivik. They had murdered innocents on the command of their king.
The golden gleam of air fae armor cut through the darkness. Several warriors had spotted Lorcan and Nollaig huddling at the edge of the carnage. Now, the air fae were rushing straight toward them. Lorcan pulled his longsword from the scabbard at his back, tightening his hands around the elaborate hilt.
Nollaig followed and whispered something to the crow. The creature darted into the smoking skies above.
Out of the mists, the air fae loomed. They launched at Lorcan and Nollaig in a fury of blades. Lorcan raised his sword and slammed his steel against theirs. Strength radiated from his arm and into his blade, knocking the air fae away from him.
The air fae warrior fell onto his back, his sword clattering away from him. Lorcan stepped forward. He pointed the blade at the male’s neck.
And he did not hesitate to cut him down.
The fighting went on for hours. Air fae sliced through shadow fae necks, and Lorcan and Nollaig flew after them like a tornado of death. In the end, the only two souls alive in the godforsaken village were a hooded female with a crow and a prince of shadows. Every other warrior had died, except for Teutas. They had conquered the air fae, but at a great loss.
As soon as the trio returned to Olc Fortress, the air fae took Bilivik again. And this time, they held onto it.
6
One Year Later
Prince Thane rarely left the city. It was rumored that he enjoyed revelling into the late hours of the night far more than seeing to his courtly duties. He spent all of his time in the many taverns of Tairngire. There and in his bed, sleeping the drink away.
Still, Lorcan’s father had spies inside the city. They were certain that Thane would be travelling throughout the grasslands, visiting the villages in some sort of quest to convince the commoners that his family would protect them from the growing threat of the Ice Court.
The two rival realms had been at war for so long, along with the rest of Tir Na Nog, and the ice fae were getting restless. Some thought High King Cos Darragh would breach the Shard soon, sending his warriors south of the border and straight toward Tairngire. If he did, many villages would soon fall.
Lorcan waited on the Westway Road, shielding his eyes against the unfamiliar sun. In only a year, he’d grown accustomed to the reddish light of the shadow lands. The yellow sun was almost blindingly bright, though he could not fault the clear blue sky. For once, it was nice to gaze upon something other than the mists.
Only two short weeks ago, Lorcan had left behind Olc Fortress to return to his tiny village in the air fae lands. The battles at the border had left the shadow fae even weaker than they’d been before, so Bolg Rothach had been forced to come up with an entirely different plan: turn his son into a spy.
Lorcan had said his goodbyes to Nollaig, Teutas, and the strong and steady Segonax. He’d sworn he’d seen tears in the commander’s eyes. Lorcan had been his most difficult student for a time. But he’d trained hard, and in the end, he was as good as any warrior inside that castle. If not better.
“I’m proud of you,” Segonax had said, clapping Lorcan on the back with a dimpled smile he rarely gave. “The sacrifices you’ve made for this realm will not be forgotten.”
Nollaig had even sniffled a little.
His father, on the other hand, had not even bothered to grace the courtyard with his presence. All the better, Lorcan had thought. While he had grown to respect and admire his fellow warriors and his commander, his heart had never softened toward the king. If anything, it had hardened into stone armed with teeth.
He’d only agreed to this quest to help the commoners trapped inside the dying shadow lands. It was unfortunate that it would also help his miserable father.
