“Tell me about it,” she said softly as she slipped her small hand into his. Her touch was warm and strong, even though she had been on the brink of death only a couple of days before. He took comfort in it.
“The Fomorians attacked my village that night, killing almost every fae inside of it, including my mother.” He stopped short, catching his breath, and Reyna squeezed his hand. He collected himself and continued. “There were few of us left, but we lived peacefully—if not poorly—in Comharra for ten good years. Until my father sent his warriors to collect me.”
“Let me guess. He did not give you much of a choice.”
“It was no choice at all. He threatened to kill every living fae of Comharra if I did not go to the Shadow Court and become his legitimized son.” He laughed bitterly. “It worked. I did it. And for years after that, he held their lives over my head, always knowing that I would do whatever he bid as long as he had that.”
Reyna pushed up from the bed and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his as emotion shook his voice. Lorcan had never spoken to anyone about this, not fully. He’d never wanted to, nor had he ever known someone who would understand. The wounds were fresh and raw, even though it had been years since that day he’d stumbled into Comharra and fallen to his knees in anguish.
The day he’d found the village empty, barren, and full of blood. The day he’d found out his father had killed almost everyone he loved. Cadman, Aoiffe, and all the rest.
“Eventually, my father realized I was not the loyal servant he hoped I was. He discovered I’d come to care for Thane, the prince I was meant to kill one day.”
Reyna blinked in shock. “You were meant to kill Thane?”
Lorcan nodded. “After he became the king and before he sired an heir. It would have created a vacuum of power, throwing the Air Court into chaos. Chaos is exactly what my father wants from his enemies.
“After spending several years by Thane’s side, I decided that I wouldn’t do it. That I would find a way out of it. I don’t know how my father found out, but he did. Likely through the mark he gave me to make me his.” He closed his eyes. “So, he murdered every fae inside of Comharra.”
“Oh, Lorcan,” she said softly.
He brought her hand to his chest and pressed it firmly against his skin. “I am so sorry for what I have done to you, Reyna. I should have known he never had Thane. Now, you’re stuck with him, same as me. And that is not a fate I would wish on anyone. Especially not you.”
A low growl rumbled in her throat, and she tightened her grip around his fingers. “He needs to be stopped. We cannot let him get away with this.”
Lorcan could not help but smile, even if her rage was nothing more than folly. There was no way to stop the High King of the Shadow Court. He had them both wrapped around his pinky finger, Lorcan with the mark and Reyna with her vow. “You must be feeling better. It’s been hours since you had that murderous glint in your eye.”
“Better enough that I could rip off his smushed little head.”
He chuckled. “He does have a particularly smushed head, doesn’t he?”
“Sosmushed,” she replied. “Lucky for you, you only inherited his hair and his eyes.”
His brows winged upward. “Was that a compliment?”
“Hmph,” she said. “Maybe I like smushed faces.”
He slid his hand up her arm to her neck, and then to her cheek. She stiffened beneath his touch, but she didn’t pull away.
“Tell me you hate me then. If that’s your truth, then speak it aloud.”
“I want to hate you,” she whispered back. “You betrayed me. Terribly.”
“I did. And I deserve your wrath.”
“Stop that,” she hissed.
“Stop what?” His voice dipped low as her lips drew agonizingly close to his. He could smell the alchemist’s medicine on her breath, the tangy scent of herbs and rowan berries.
“Apologizing.” She swallowed hard, the skin at her neck trembling. “It makes me want to forget everything you did.”
“Then, I’m sorry,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He slid his nose across the soft skin of her cheek, and then murmured into her ear. “I am sorry, Reyna Darragh.”
With a gasp, she slid her fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth toward hers. Her soft lips collided into his, warm and sweet, but as ferocious as every single thing that made her who she was. Distantly, he was aware that his mark had begun to ache. But for once, it was nothing more than a dull, pesky fly.
Now that she was in his arms once again, he would never again let anyone—or anything—take her away from him.
22
