“How much longer until I heal, Tighe?” Lorcan asked.
“You are stronger than most, Your Highness,” the priest answered. “The throne’s powers seem to be healing your wound quite quickly. It’s likely why you aren’t dead already. I imagine you will be fully healed within days.”
“Days.” That might be just long enough to decide on the right path forward. By the time he rose from this bed, he would have to make the call. Surrender or not.
“Seg, Nollaig,” he said before sleep could tug him back under once more. “I need you to gather the council and brainstorm ideas. See if any of you can think of any way for us to save ourselves. Otherwise, I will open those gates and welcome the wood king into Findius. I see no way to avoid it any longer.”
13
Eislyn
“Welcome to the Empire of Fomor, little fae.” Blaine shoved her forward, and her feet tripped on the cracks of the wooden dock. Her knees slammed into the ground. With a chuckle, Blaine yanked her to her feet. “Stop acting so pathetic. You got to where you wanted to go, didn’t you?”
“Not like this,” she hissed through her teeth. “Let me go.”
The journey had been made of nightmares. Eislyn had been locked in a tiny room for the entire duration. No windows. No fresh air. Nothing to keep her company but her own stink. They’d brought her food when they remembered. Sometimes, she got water.
She never got a bed or a pail.
Her own scent clung to her like a hungry leech. Her eyes locked on the crystalline sea, the brilliance of it shining through the cracks in the dock. Her heart ached with yearning for that water, to sink beneath the waves, to wash her skin and her mind of the memories that would haunt her for the rest of her life.
She had not been given light on the ship, either. She had not known day from night. Her ever-present shadows came to haunt her, bringing with it the sound of her mother’s dying screams. She had been forced to endure those memories over and over and over again, until she was no longer sure if those images were from her past or from her future.
No, Eislyn felt like nothing more than a broken thing. Any hope she’d have of saving Tir Na Nog from the Ruin was gone.
The human shoved her a step forward. Eislyn stumbled, biting the insides of her cheeks until they bled. She could barely see through the tears in her eyes. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t as though she would see much of anything for long. The humans had made one thing achingly clear. Fomorians truly did hate the fae. She would likely be killed the moment she got thrown before the Emperor’s guards.
She glanced over her shoulder. The human was pushing her along, but his eyes were drawn to the magnificent city spread across the rocky hills. This would be her last chance to escape, not that she had any idea where she could go from here.
Reyna would fight, she whispered to herself.Vreis would fight.
With a deep breath, she curled her hands into fists and called upon the fearful rage she’d felt back in Snowport. Visions of Vreis’s bloodstained neck flashed in her mind’s eye. Despair and vicious anger stormed through her like a hurricane.
Electrical currents swept through her body, and the hair on the back of her neck stood to attention like sentinels. She threw her arms out to her sides and spread her palms wide.
Ice shot from her skin. It blasted the human behind her, knocking him back several feet. Shouts echoed all around her. Gritting her teeth, she glanced behind her. Blaine was sprawled across the dock. A shard of ice stuck out from his forehead. Blood dripped onto the ground.
“What the fuck!” one of the humans shouted, stumbling away from her.
A twisted smile lifted the corners of Eislyn’s mouth. Maybe she could be her own damn shield after all.
The nearest human lifted his fingers to his lips, and he whistled. The high-pitched screech cut like a knife against her eardrums. She winced, whirling toward the sound of thundering footsteps. Several Fomorians were hurrying her way. Wings stretched wide from their towering forms. She swallowed hard, heart thumping a frantic beat.
“Shouldn’t have done that, fae,” the whistling human growled at her. “Your magic might work on us, but it won’t work on them.”
Eislyn sucked in a sharp breath and whirled on her feet. If those Fomorians caught her, they would kill her in an instant. Their eyes flashed with a murderous glint she had seen far more times than she wanted to admit. In Aengus’s eyes. In Imogen’s eyes. In Sloane Selkirk’s eyes.
She had even seen that look on Reyna’s face, though not directed at her.
She threw her feet forward, pounding them hard against the dock. Before she even made it past the dead human’s body, strong hands circled her arms and jerked her back. Wings rushed by her head, and talons sliced into her flesh. Her head exploded with pain as something hard and heavy slammed against it. She slumped against the Fomorians, and all went dark.
* * *
Her cruel dreams did not plague her for once. She awoke from the darkness with a gasp, fear and anger churning through her like a storm. She blinked against a harsh light shining into her face. Everything around her was steeped in gold, including the towering male who stood before her, frowning down into her eyes.
“Hello. My name is Emperor Lir Lothian, and you are a fae who has trespassed upon my lands.”
She blinked up at him, her tongue heavy and dry in her mouth. He was unlike anything she had ever seen before, including the Fomorians on the dock. He was impossibly tall, towering over everyone else in the room, and his muscles rippled beneath the dying sunlight that gleamed against the golden floor of what she guessed to be his throne room. His dark hair was sleek and long and pulled away from his chiseled jaw. Sharp elongated ears speared the strands, and each tip was donned with golden piercings. An elaborate tattoo swirled across his bare chest, muscles rippling as he moved.
