Lorcan’s heart thudded. “You mean the Sea Court?”
“My mother has assured me that we have no reason to concern ourselves with the Sea Court for now.”
That only left the shadow fae. A terrible fear slid through Lorcan’s gut. There was no reason for Thane to invade the Shadow Court. They had already been exiled. They’d been cut off from the rest of the continent, and they barely even survived, feasting on scraps that barely grew beneath the mist. It would be cruel to stomp them down now, when they would be unable to do anything but die.
But Lorcan could not help but remember the attack on Bilivik all those years ago, when he’d become the Prince of Shadows. The air fae warriors had not decided to invade on their own. Sloane had given the order. Would Thane do the same?
Lorcan felt sick.
“So, what do you say, old friend?” Thane asked again. “I know one day you’ll want to leave this court. It’s never going to feel like home. But for now, I need you by my side.”
“Alright then,” Lorcan said with a heaviness in his heart. “Let’s go fetch your bride.”
* * *
The journey from Tairngire to Falias had been long and hard and full of far more death than any of them had anticipated. Lorcan knew that he need only speak a few quiet words into a single ice fae’s ears, and the alliance would shatter like ice. Cos Darragh would likely slaughter Thane right then and there and hang his head from the castle walls.
But Lorcan would never speak a word of it to anyone.
They rode through the open gates, and Lorcan gazed up at the magnificent ice-blue spires that topped the towers of Starford Castle. A large courtyard stretched out before them, covered in a thick blanket of snow and ice. The castle walls gleamed, the white stone twinkling beneath the gentle sun. It looked as though the castle had been carved from ice itself. Lorcan could not help but find it impressive.
He turned his gaze toward the royal family where they had gathered for Thane’s arrival. Instantly, his eyes locked on one fae who stood out from the rest. Rather than a standard courtly gown, she wore a loose tunic and a pair of rumpled hoarfrost trousers. Wild silver hair cascaded around a pair of shoulders thrown back in defiance. Her matching eyes swirled with a thousand unspoken emotions, and her cheeks were flushed with a deep pink that was nothing like a blush. It was rage.
Lorcan felt himself smile.
He had never seen anyone like her, and he doubted he ever would.
Thane exchanged some pleasantries with Cos Darragh, but Lorcan barely heard the words. All he could do was watch Reyna. He knew that was who this wild thing was, even before her father introduced her. Glencora was absent, having been taken ill. And Eislyn’s youth and innocence identified her at once.
No, this was Reyna. The fiery one. The wild heart. The Shieldmaiden who had taken on Vreis and tossed him halfway across the battlefield. He knew she would rather see them dead than give them the gift of a smile, but he found he liked that.
Suddenly, Eislyn stormed off. He glanced at Thane, wondering what in the name of the Dagda he’d said to scare her away. Wasn’t she one of his potential brides?
“May I see your sister, Glencora?” Thane was looking straight at Reyna. “I would like to wish her well.”
Reyna shot him the most terrifying look Lorcan had ever seen. “Very well then. Come along if you must.”
She turned on her heels and marched toward the nearest tower. Lorcan’s eyes dropped to her very shapely arse. Through her thin tunic, he could see the well-defined muscles in her back. She was no little weak thing. In fact, he bet even Thane would struggle to hold his own in a fight against her.
My Dagda, she is absolutely breathtaking.
Lorcan edged up to Thane to speak quietly in his ear. “The tales are wrong. Reynaisa great beauty.”
“Beauty does not a queen make,” Thane snapped.
There’s so much more to her than mere beauty,Lorcan thought.She carries the power of a queen.
10
“We’re approaching land, Your Highness.”
Lorcan glanced up from Reyna’s face where her silver hair curled across her pale, lifeless cheeks. He had come to see her once again, knowing that soon they would sail into the docks of the shadow lands. It would likely be the last time he ever saw her without hate in her eyes.
“Ah. How is she then?” Vlatos asked, a short man with blunt brown hair and eyes that were as dull as dirt. He wore linen trousers that had holes in the knees, a simple tunic, and worn leather boots.
“As poisoned as ever,” Lorcan said bitterly. He would never forgive himself for this. It would haunt him until the day he died.
Vlatos clucked his tongue. “Nasty business, this. I’m not too fond of poisoning princesses.”
