“We’re here to see the High King,” Segonax announced to the two guards stationed on either side of the midnight black throne room doors. The shadow fae sigil had long ago been carved deep into the wood. Twisting antlers stretching wide like wings. The symbol of Lorcan’s father. The symbol ofhim.
Lorcan had awoken only moments earlier, a whirlwind of anger. Segonax and Nollaig had teamed up against him. They’d knocked him out and dragged him to the castle, forcing him to face down his father. If they had been anyone else in the world, he would have sliced their heads clean off. But he couldn’t bring himself to kill two of his oldest friends.
The warriors they’d collected on the way were heavily armed. They weren’t letting him do anything but walk through that damn door. He would have fought them all, too, to get back to Reyna’s side, but the battle was long done. Reyna had fought the Ruin. She’d won. And she’d taken down the wood fae army, too. She was on her way to the castle now.
The guard on the left frowned. “The king said the prince died in an accident on the mountains.”
“And as you can see, he is fine,” Segonax said with a tight smile. “The king will be very pleased to see him indeed.”
The guard grunted but then nodded, stepping aside. “As you wish, Commander.”
The doors swung wide, and the trio strode tall into the throne room, flanked by two dozen warriors. They filled the small space beneath the dais, staring up at a king who was half-asleep, wine-stained lips puckered out, eyes half-lidded. He was drunk. Again. While his city burned down. A serving girl sat on his lap, stuck in place by stubby arms wrapped around her waist.
“Father,” Lorcan said quietly.
The king jerked up, only just realizing they were there. Shock flittered through his eyes as he took in his son and the company of warriors he’d brought with him.
“Thought you might come. I hear your little princess has made quite an impression on the city. Heh.” Bolg grunted, grabbing at the poor serving girl’s arse as she scurried away. “She took out that blasted Ruin, and she helped our army push the Wood Court back into the tunnels.”
A wave of pride rippled through Lorcan’s heart. “It seems you underestimated her.”
Bolg grunted again. “And you. You’re harder to kill than you look.”
Lorcan froze, hands half-clenched by his sides. His fingers itched to draw his sword, but he held himself as still as a rat under the gaze of an owl.
“That’s right. No need to dance around it. You’re not loyal to me.” The High King’s beady eyes flicked toward Lorcan’s bare arm, scabbed over from where Reyna had dug the mark out of his skin. “I’ve known it for awhile.” His eyes flicked to Nollaig. “And neither are you. Traitors, the both of you. Guards. Take them. They’ll both be executed on the ‘morn.”
But the guards stayed rooted to the spot.
Bolg growled and stood from his throne before stumbling sideways half a step. Everyone watched him, silent. Shaking his head, he plopped right back down. “What’s the meaning of this? I saidtake them.”
“We will not be taking them,” Seg said with a steely glint in his granite eyes. “Prince Lorcan is our liege. No harm will come to him.”
Bolg stared, and then he let out a great snorting laugh that echoed off the lofted stone ceiling. “He’s a bloody bastard is what he is. And I’m done looking at his traitorous face. Guards, I said seize him. Obey the command of your High King!”
No one moved. No one even blinked.
When someone did finally step forward, it was Nollaig.
“You,” the king spat when he saw her. “I knew I never should have trusted you. You’re just like the rest of them. A liar. A traitor. A sneaky little thief.”
“You’re right,” she said in a dangerously calm voice, taking another step toward Bolg Rothach. “You never should have trusted me. You see, the shadow fae are not so different from the rest of the realms,Your Grace. The low fae of the Air Court don’t want to be ruled by a wicked, demented king, and neither do we. The only different between us and them is...well, we are brazen enough to end a king’s reign when he has not been kind to us.”
Nollaig whipped a dagger out from the depths of her cloak and launched it at the king. It landed with a sickening crunch in his throat. Lorcan winced, grinding his jaw as he watched the blood gurgle from his father’s lips. It only took moments for him to die. The wine goblet tumbled to the ground, cracking on the stone floor, just as the High King slumped in his seat, the tormented life dying in his eyes.
The warriors sprang into action, rushing forward and lifting him from the stone chair. Several more followed just behind, quickly wiping up the blood and the wine, scrubbing away the crimson as if it had never been there. None of them said a word. They simply cleaned and vanished. Only Segonax and Nollaig were left in the throne room when all was said and done.
Lorcan still hadn’t spoken. He did not quite know what to say. His father had just died, yet he felt nothing. Not angry. Not sad. But…not happy either. He just felt...empty. Ripped raw.
It had been a very long past few days. He needed Reyna.
“Well, Nollaig, we have finally done it, “Segonax announced with a weary sigh as he sagged against the wall, head in his hands. “It has taken us over ten damn years, but here we are.”
“A decade.” The cloaked fae shook her head. “If only we’d known then how long it would take, I fear we would have forgone the plot completely. I’m glad we didn’t, now that it is done. The realm will finally have a chance to heal.”
Lorcan’s frown deepened with every passing second. “I am going to need you two to explain to me exactly what you mean.”
Segonax tapped his finger against his chin, taking his time. Finally, he relented. “I suppose it does no good to hide it from you anymore. You’re the king now. We don’t want to start off on a path full of lies.”
