“It’s me!” she shouted. “It’s Reyna!”
The forms suddenly stopped.
“Reyna?”
Her heart stopped. All the blood in her veins stilled. That deep, melodic voice did not belong to Segonax. It was a voice she’d memorized and imagined a hundred times since the last time she’d heard it, oh so long ago.
“What?” she whispered, stumbling to a stop. “No. It can’t be.”
She must have imagined it. The Ruin had gotten into her head, and now it was twisting her senses to hear things that weren’t there. Or the mists had tricked her. Or she was so tired that she didn’t know what she’d heard.
There were a million explanations for that voice. None of them were the one thing she wanted more than anything else in the world. For it to be real. For it to be true.
The mists parted. The form came into view.
Lorcan Rothach stared at her from across the field of ash. His familiar lips tipped up into a smile. Everything within her shattered.
“Reyna? Is that really you?”
Her heart exploded inside her chest, and she threw herself toward his open arms.
26
Lorcan
Aweek before Lorcan found Reyna stumbling through the Misty Wastes, he sat in the Meeting Hall listening to his advisors bicker like siblings. Priest Tighe was convinced they should surrender to the wood king while Commander Segonax wanted to wait it out.
Lorcan sighed, closing his eyes. “Seg, I’d love to do things your way, but I need more than that. If we wait this out, where will we find food?”
“I’m not sure, Your Grace,” the old commander replied. “We considered a few options, but none of them are particularly palatable. No pun intended.”
Lorcan turned to Nollaig. “Have you come up with anything none of us have thought of?”
“Actually, I have.” Her voice held the hint of a smile. Likely, a smug one. “You remember what I mentioned the other day, Your Highness? About the coastal lords?”
He nodded. “The lords of the twin towers in Caraid.”
“Those are the ones.” She shifted on her seat, tracing a line down the realm’s map with her gloved finger. “They’re only three days from Findius. I wonder if we might be able to call on them for aid.”
Lorcan sat up a little straighter in his chair. Now this was the kind of idea he could get behind. “Go on.”
“They didn’t come when Bolg called them because they’ve turned away from Unseelie. And so have you. If you could convince them to march their army to Findius, we might have enough warriors to protect ourselves. Plus, they have fish.”
It almost sounded too good to be true. Caraid had everything they needed. Food. Warriors. Hope.
“I don’t like this, Your Highness.” Priest Tighe leaned forward, his palms flat against the wooden table. “The wood fae army is strong. Caraid will not have enough fighters for it to make a difference.”
“You would still have us surrender,” Lorcan said evenly. “Even though we’ve found an alternative, one that means we will not need to bow before a corrupt king.”
Priest Tighe’s eyebrows slammed down. “You speak as though you believe followers of Unseelie are corrupt.”
Nollaig snorted. “You said it, not us.”
Priest Tighe whirled on her, clutching that same ancient tome to his chest. “Be careful, Nollaig. You do not know who you speak to.”
“Actually,youdon’t know who you speak to.”
Commander Segonax palmed the pommel of his sword.
