Of course, they still thought of him as an air fae. If his father were anyone else, Lorcan would have inherited everything from his mother instead.
Oh, how he wished he had. It would have made his life so much simpler. Days like this and friends like this would be the norm, and he would not have to feel so guilty about every single thing he did. No matter what, he was betraying someone. If not Thane, then the innocent fae of the shadow lands.
Lorcan could never do the right thing. Therewasno right thing, not where he was concerned. He was torn between two enemy courts. Helping one was hurting the other. If only he could find a way to help them both.
“Ah, we’re almost there,” Thane said.
Lorcan nodded, noting the cluster of trees where the shadow fae had waited to spring their trap on Prince Thane all those years ago. The wispy trunks looked just the same as they had back then, but the fields were dry and empty. There was no sign of the budding spring crops.
Lorcan shielded his eyes against the sun and gazed across the field. From the distance, he could see nothing more than the familiar cluster of buildings. The cottages on the hill. The old tavern where they feasted during Beltane. But there was no movement. Everything was silent and still.
“Something is wrong,” Lorcan said quietly. “It is midday, and there is no sign of anyone.”
Thane trotted up to his side, frowning. “Perhaps they are all inside, having a meal together.”
“These fields should be full of wheat.”
“This could be the year they finally ran out of seeds,” Thane tried.
Lorcan shook his head, dread creeping around his heart. “I don’t think so.”
He flicked his reins, and his horse took off down the dirt road. His gaze stayed locked on the silent village, his dread growing with every hoofbeat. As he drew closer, he could see no sign of life at all. Every door was shut. Every window closed. In the spring, the fae of Comharra loved to fling their windows wide open and relish in the fresh breeze that rolled off the nearby sea.
He slowed to a stop when he reached the village and jumped off his horse, taking off at a run.
“Cadman!” he shouted at the silence. “Aoiffe!”
When he reached the tavern, he threw open the door and charged inside. All the tables and chairs had been tipped sideways, the wood smashed. Droplets of blood painted the far wall. Lorcan shook his head and backed out into the street.
Thane reached his side just as he fell to his knees.
“Where are they?” he whispered hoarsely.
But deep down, he already knew. All those years, his father had threatened to destroy his village. He’d held it over Lorcan’s head, time and time again, promising their deaths if the shadow prince did not obey his king’s every command.
Tears of anguish filled his eyes. His father had finally made good on his promise.
With a roar, he punched the ground, his knuckles slamming into the hard dirt. He’d heard from Cadman as recently as six months past. His father must have discovered that he and Thane had journeyed to the village to fill their empty barrels with seed. He must have realized that Lorcan was beginning to have doubts in his heart. He must have known that his plot against the Air Court was close to crumbling to the ground. And he must have realized that the villagers knew Lorcan’s identity.
Bolg Rothach had many reasons for wanting to destroy Comharra.
And every single one lay heavily on Lorcan’s shoulders. It was his fault, no matter which way he looked at it. He had brought the destruction down upon this village. They had died because of him. Everything he had ever done was to save them. And he had failed. So terribly that he felt crushed into the ground.
“Lorcan.” Thane knelt beside him. “I am so sorry. What would you have me do?”
Lorcan dug his fingers into the dirt. The ground itself seemed to pulse beneath him, in time with the rapid beating of his heart. “We need to burn it all down. This place is cursed.”
“Could it have been the Fomorians again?” Vreis asked from behind him.
“No.” Lorcan choked out the word. “They only attack at Beltane.”
“Wait,” Thane said, pushing to his feet. He stared down the eerie street, his brows pinched. Lorcan followed his gaze and frowned. There was something twinkling in the middle of the street, the sunlight glinting off a crystalline object that had sunk into the dirt.
Thane strode toward it and scooped it up into his hands. He turned back to where Lorcan still knelt on the ground, his golden eyes flashing with anger. “It’s a medallion made of ice glass. Guess whose sigil has been carved into it?”
Lorcan stood as Thane flashed the medallion his way. A silver pair of ice wings, spread wide against an unseen wind. Unease tumbled inside his gut.
“They did this,” Thane said angrily. “Somehow, they sneaked past the border and attacked this village. I don’t know how we missed them, but we did.” With a growl, he slammed the medallion into the nearest building. It shattered when it hit the wall, gleaming crystals raining down on the dirt.
