“Don’t worry,” she said with a kind smile. “I’ll stitch her right back up again. I’m Meredith, by the way. The local alchemist.”
Lorcan hadn’t known the Wood Court had alchemists. He didn’t think they believed in such things. From what he’d heard, they’d turned their backs on the ways of the Dagda, welcoming darker things, just like their king.
He followed the female past the cluster of cottages. She led him toward the tavern, up the rickety stairs, and into a room where a dozen wood fae fell silent in a hush of tense air.
His entire body tensed. His eyes flicked from fae to fae, spotting swords on backs, bows leaned against walls, and daggers on mead-stained tables. These were warriors. Every last one of them.
“Avalon,” she called out to the tavern wench with cascading ginger hair, who stood behind the curving oak bar at the back. “I need the following herbs: rowan, knit-bone, and willow bark. Some nettle tonic, too, please. And Duff, give the lad a drink or two and get him cleaned up. Don’t forget to burn that tunic. It’s drenched in her blood.”
Every single fae inside the tavern sprang into action. Avalon, the tavern wench, disappeared through a burlap flap behind the bar. Duff jumped to his feet, rushing to the bottles that lined the wall. And several other males joined in as well. They gently wrenched Reyna from Lorcan’s arms. At first, he resisted. He didn’t dare let her go. But then Meredith had given him an impatient slap on the arm, and he had relinquished his vice-like grip around Reyna’s broken body.
Meredith motioned for the warriors to follow Avalon into the back. Lorcan trailed behind them, his eyes locked on Reyna’s frail form, but Duff clamped a strong hand on his shoulder and pulled him back. The fae shoved a small metal mug into Lorcan’s hands. Amber liquid sloshed inside. “Drink.”
Lorcan shoved the mug aside. “I’m going with them.”
“You’re staying here,” Duff said steadily. “Have a drink.”
Lorcan shoved his shoulder against the wood fae’s, knocking him out of his damn way. The mug clattered onto the timber floor, the spirits splashing onto his boots. But three others stood from the table and blocked the path to the back of the tavern where they’d taken Reyna.
“Get out of my damn way,” Lorcan growled.
“We get why you’re angry, but there’s nothing you can do to help her now. The room’s not big enough, mate. You’d just get in the way.” Duff knelt down, grabbed the mug, and tipped a new splash of spirits inside. He held it out for Lorcan. “Besides, we need to get rid of all that blood. You’re covered in it.”
Lorcan glowered at Duff, and then turned his attention on the other three. They all wore well-worn boiled leather with no sigil stamp anywhere to be seen. They were broad and muscular, but much shorter than most of the air and shadow warriors Lorcan had met over the years.
The closest gave him a nod. “I know you’re worried about your lass, but Meredith can’t do her thing if you’re in there growling and knocking people over.”
“You came to us for help.” Duff’s voice softened. “Let us help you, mate.”
Lorcan’s shoulders slumped as he relented, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. He couldn’t bear the thought of Reyna trapped in the back room of a tavern, being tortured by wicked wood fae who just wanted to watch her bleed.
But if they’d wanted to kill her, they wouldn’t have bothered trying to hide it from Lorcan. And Meredith had said she would help. As a wood fae, she couldn’t lie. With a shake of his head, he grabbed the mug and downed the amber liquid in one gulp. He winced as the burning liquid hit his throat. Wood Whiskey. The strongest spirit in all of Tir Na Nog, and the most fiery.
“What’s all this about the blood?” Lorcan asked after he’d downed another shot. His nerves were spent, he realized. His entire body hummed as if it had been shot too close to the sun.
“You don’t want to leave too much of your blood lying around in these parts. Unseelie’s magic is blood magic.” Duff peered at Lorcan. “Though I suppose you know that, don’t you, mate?”
Lorcan stiffened. “I’m not a follower of Unseelie. I know nothing of the sort.”
“That’s good then,” Duff said. “We aren’t big fans of him here either, at least not in Oxgrove. The rest of the realm though?” Duff shook his head. “Well, that’s why we’ve got to get rid of this blood.”
Frowning, Lorcan pulled the crimson tunic over his head and tossed it onto the round wooden table they indicated. “What exactly would they do with it?”
“A great many a thing, I’m afraid. They could use her face as an illusion or find her no matter where she might go. But worst of all, they could use her blood to control her and make her do whatever they damn wanted.” Duff grabbed the tunic, strode over to the hearth, and tossed it inside. The flames engulfed the fabric, burning away the blood. Fear squeezed Lorcan’s heart. He’d never heard of such a thing, but admittedly, he’d purposefully avoided anything that involved the Unseelie god. He’d never wanted to know, and this was why. Unseelie was the god of monstrous things.
A small quiet voice whispered in his mind. A voice he had not heard in a great many years. It was the voice of his mark.You are right, Prince Lorcan Rothach. I am.
20
Reyna
The sweet scent of fresh grass, the salt of the sea, and spring flowers drifted into Reyna’s nose. She drew a deep breath into her lungs, sighing in contentment. She was warm but not too hot. There was no wind to speak of, and she could feel the soft, calming touch of her mother’s ice glass ring on a necklace at her throat.
And then suddenly, memories of the attack assaulted her mind. The wood fae in the forest. The arrows. The pain that had exploded in her gut. The sound of Lorcan’s fury when he’d seen how badly she’d been hurt.
Her eyes flew open, panic and fear churning through her like the wind during a brutal storm. Lorcan leaned over her, his dark eyes flashing with charged emotion. His raven hair was down, falling into his face and brushing his shoulders corded with muscle. Her gaze dropped south, drinking in his smooth, tanned skin. He wasn’t wearing a tunic. Was this a dream?
“You’re awake.” His voice was full of relief. He reached out to grasp her hand, his grip strong but gentle.
