Long ago, the fae of Tir Na Nog could fly. Losing that power had been one of their greatest losses. Reyna had never known flight herself. She’d been born years after the Fall. But she felt a fierce sense of completeness as she stared at her newfound wings. A piece of her had always been missing, and she’d never known it. Wingallock hooted happily from above.
She smiled up at her owl, understanding at once. Now, she could fly.
“You mean to fly us over the top of the gates, don’t you, princess?” Nollaig asked, her voice flat. She did not sound particularly impressed by Reyna’s newfound wings.
“It will get us inside.” Reyna grinned. “Why? Are you scared?”
Nollaig snorted. “Nothing scares me.”
“Then, you should go first.” Before Nollaig could object, Reyna wrapped her arms around the cloaked fae and pushed off. The ground vanished beneath them at a dizzying speed. Nollaig let out a strained choke. A gloved hand snapped tight around Reyna’s wrist, the rough material digging into her skin.
“Careful, Shieldmaiden. You’ve never done this before.”
Reyna smiled and flapped her wings once. They spun forward, lurching over the top of the wall. Nollaig let out an uneasy moan.
“This is fun,” Reyna said.
She could have sworn she heard Nollaig mutter something close to, “Goddamned ice fae.”
Soon, they were over the side of the gates, and Reyna gently lowered them to the ground. When she released Nollaig, the shadow fae coughed, clearly disoriented by the flight. Reyna pushed off again, landing on the other side where Lorcan was waiting.
“Your turn,” she said chirpily.
He scowled, large arms crossed over his taut chest. “I’ll find another way inside.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. The city needs our help, and this is the fastest way inside.”
“I don’t want you scooping me up into the air as if I’m a princess in need of a rescue.”
Reyna arched a brow. “There’s nothing wrong with being a princess.”
A pause. “No. I don’t suppose there is.”
“Come on.” She stepped behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her breasts pushed against his back, and memories of his body over hers flashed in her mind, peaking her nipples. She shivered.
“Are you certain you’ll be able to hold my weight?”
But she was off, throwing them both up into the misty skies. Her wings beat heavily at the air, pushing them toward the top of the gates. Lorcan was much heavier than Nollaig, and she had to push hard to hurtle them over the edge.
When they finally landed on the other side, she held on for a moment too long, pressing her cheek to his back.
“That was mortifying,” he muttered, unsheathing his sword as if that would somehow bring back his masculinity.
Reyna had to admit, he did fit the part of a dangerous, vicious Prince of Shadows. With his raven hair that framed an angular face and those hooded eyes that seemed to see everything, he was all shadows and darkness. He towered over them all, his strength evidenced by his corded shoulders and his taut chest visible beneath his patchwork leather armor. His sharp jawline was set in anger, and the glimmer of his steel beneath the reddish sun made it look as though it was drenched in blood.
“Nollaig? Reyna?” A voice called out as a form hurried toward them. “Prince Lorcan?”
Segonax darted through the buildings on the opposite side of the street, flanked by half a dozen armed warriors. He rushed across the dirt path and ducked into an alley beside them. His eyes were wide as he took them in, and even wider still when he noted Reyna’s wings.
Quietly, she pulled the wings back inside of her, hiding them from view.
“The king said you’d all died in an accident,” the commander said in a hush. “You don’t know how relieved I am to see you. Where’s Tarrah?”
“She’s dead,” Nollaig said flatly.
Segonax winced. “I...the poor thing.”
“What has happened here?” Lorcan asked, taking charge of the conversation. “Exactly how many wood fae are we looking at?”
