Lorcan’s hands fisted as Ulaid Molt slowly circled Seg’s body. There had to be something he could do. He couldn’t just stand here in this fucking cage and watch his oldest friend in the world bleed out on the stones beneath the throne he’d fought so hard to protect.
Lorcan slid his eyes toward Reyna, but her gaze was as distant as the ice fae lands. That look on her face, he recognized it. She was locked in a mental battle with the storm inside her head. He turned to Nollaig instead. His cloaked friend sagged forward on the bars. Her gloved hand curved around the iron, and her hot breath fogged from the depths of her hood. Lorcan shifted to the other side of his cage, closer to her, trying to catch her attention.
“Nollaig,” he murmured.
Nollaig flinched, barely shifting her hooded face toward his.
“We have to do something,” he said, moving as close to the bars as he could. “If you have any powers, now would be the time to use them.”
“I don’t have any real power. Not to use in a situation like this,” she whispered back, sadness tinging her words. “And Segonax is going to die because of me. He is my best and oldest friend. This is part of my curse. If I hadn’t killed Bolg Rothach, none of this would be happening. My actions have brought destruction down upon us all.”
Her last word choked off as her body shook. Lorcan’s lips flatlined. He turned back to the king, anger and sadness tangling together in his gut. He’d never felt more hopeless in his life. Not even when his father had forced him to join the Shadow Court. Not even when that damn mark had pulsed in his skin, controlling him.
Now, he was fully in control of his every action, but that made it worse. Because he should have been able to do something. He was the High King of the Shadow Court. He held the power of the throne. And yet all he could do was stand there, watching his friend whither beneath the fists of the wood king.
Molt whipped his gruesome blade from where it had been leaning against the throne and stalked toward Segonax. Lorcan gripped the bars, ignoring the burn of the iron. Molt’s eyes gleamed with darkness, and fear stabbed Lorcan in the gut.
“No!” Lorcan shouted, gritting his teeth as he pulled at the bars, a horror-stricken desperation shooting through him.
Ulaid Molt raised his saw-like sword over his head. Nollaig screamed as the blade hurtled down. Lorcan lurched forward, a harsh cry choking his throat. Horror pounded through him. The blade slashed through Segonax’s throat. Blood sprayed Molt’s face, droplets landing on his bared teeth. Seg’s head tumbled onto the floor.
Lorcan slammed a hand over his mouth, biting back an inhuman roar. His entire body shook, and a terrible darkness creeped into the corners of his vision. All he could do was stare. At the head. At the body. At all the blood.
“Oh god,” Nollaig moaned. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”
Nollaig sank to the floor, sobbing. On the other side of him, Reyna stared ahead at the slaughter, horror rippling across her pinched face. His head swivelled back to Molt. The wood king was laughing, and his eyes gleamed with pure madness.
Lorcan struggled to comprehend it. One moment the wood king had been circling Seg, and then…
Commander Segonax was dead.
Rage clawed up Lorcan’s throat, a twisted, bitter taste that made him want to rip the very world apart. Flashes of desire shook him to his core. A thirst for violence. A hunger for blood. He didn’t just want to kill Ulaid Molt. He wanted to annihilate him, to rip open his chest and pull out his heart.
“Lorcan.” Reyna’s soft voice knocked the rage away. It vanished in the blink of an eye, but it left him feeling hollow. With burning eyes, he turned toward her. She peered at him, head cocked, as if she could see into the terrible depths of his soul. Did she know the monstrous things he’d been thinking? Did she understand?
Or would she think him as terrible and wicked and cruel as their enemies?
Had the madness taken him as well?
“Keep it together,” she whispered. “Just stay—”
“There will be no talking.” Molt appeared in front of Reyna’s cage, daggers in his emerald eyes. Reyna glared right back, edging up to the bars and lifting her lip to snarl right in his face. Even her owl hooted at the king.
Molt growled and spun on his feet. He strode back to Seg’s fallen body and held his hand out to the nearest guard. The silent guard passed a tankard into his ringed fingers. When Molt knelt beside the body, Lorcan’s gut twisted. He was going to drink Seg’s blood.
“No,” Lorcan choked out, hating himself for showing the wood king any hint of emotion. “Please don’t drink his blood. You’ve killed him. Isn’t that enough?”
The wood king chuckled, scooped up some blood, and tipped it down his throat. Lorcan shuddered. He couldn’t bear to watch. Gritting his teeth, he glanced away.
But then the wood king appeared before his cage once more. Only this time…a pair of grey eyes peered in at him, framed by salt-and-pepper hair. The lined face was achingly familiar. The stern, yet friendly, smile made his whole body tremble from pain.
“Hello,Your Highness.” Segonax’s lips twisted cruelly, ruining the illusion. Commander Segonax would never look at his High King like that. Still, Lorcan shuddered and stepped back, his heart thumping. He’d known the wood king could take on the appearance of someone else, but he’d never seen it with his own eyes. It chilled him to his bones.
“Stop it,” Nollaig screamed. “You have no right. Segonax—”
“Is dead.” The wood king whipped his head toward her, still wearing Seg’s achingly familiar face. “His blood now rushes through my veins. He ismine. Every last drop of him. And you’ll be next.”
“No.” Reyna’s voice was loud and clear with none of her earlier weakness. “I’llbe next.”
