“Alright, that’s enough.” Lorcan pushed up from his chair and glared at the lot of them. “We’ll have no bickering amongst ourselves. Let’s save our anger for the enemy.” He turned to Seg. “Nollaig and I will ride to Caraid at once. I’ll need you to take command of the castle. The city is in your hands, Seg. Take good care of it while I’m gone. With any hope, it will be the last time you’ll need to stand watch on that wall.”
Commander Segonax gave a solemn nod, relief churning in his eyes.
“Your Highness,” Tighe said. “I can’t convince you to surrender?”
“No, Tighe. I’ve made up my mind.”
He huffed. “Very well. Can I at least assist Commander Segonax in your absence? I could work with Heremon on the food rationing.”
Lorcan met Priest Tighe’s dark gaze. The Unseelie worshipper did not even blink. He should likely turn the priest away. He’d been so insistent about surrender that Lorcan did not think he would stop prattling on about it even if he did return with an army. But he could not forget all the lessons he’d learned from Thane. Keep your enemies close to you.
“Very well.” Lorcan nodded. “You can help Seg with the food rationing. But that’s it. And I don’t want any more talk of surrender.”
* * *
Lorcan and Nollaig arrived in the coastal town of Caraid three days later. Like Findius, Caraid had been built from black stone that glistened beneath the shaded moonlight. They’d considered waiting until morning to approach the gates, but then thought better of it.
They needed the army as quickly as possible.
When the shadow fae guards spotted him striding up the dirt street they bowed low and welcomed inside with little fanfare. Fine with him. He’d never been a fan of all Thane’s pomp and circumstance. Lorcan would rather be one with his people, blending in rather than standing apart.
“Your Highness.” One of the guards, a short male with stubby legs, smiled up at him. “I assume you’re here to see the lords?”
“That’s right. I realize it’s late, but the matter is of great importance.”
“Of course.” The guard nodded. “Come with me. I’ll take you to the castle and wake the lords.”
They trailed through the silent city. Squat black stone buildings lined the tangle of winding roads that spun toward the churning sea. Lorcan breathed in the scent of brine through flared nostrils. The scent took him away from this place. To Tairngire. To Comharra. To the brilliance of Reyna’s smile.
The guards led him into a square castle built on top of a cliff jutting out over the sea. Much smaller than most, its two slim towers were scarcely taller than the rest of the buildings. Dim light shone through arched windows stained red. It might be late, but they were not the only ones awake.
“The lords will meet with you here.” The guard motioned at an open door that led into a small study where a flickering hearth waited for them. Lorcan cast a quick glance at Nollaig, who said nothing. It could be some kind of trap, he couldn’t help but think. These lords had been against his father. Who was to say they’d resist stabbing him in the back while they had the chance?
“Wait here,” the guard said, leaving Lorcan and Nollaig alone in the study.
“Well?” he asked with a raised brow after the guard shut the door behind him. “What do you think? Are they going to try to kill us?”
“Unlikely. They’ll be curious more than anything.”
“They hated my father.”
“You aren’t your father.”
“But I’m his son.”
“That kind of thing doesn’t matter to the shadow fae as much as you think it does.” She shrugged. “We aren’t like those other courts.”
In both good and terrible ways, Lorcan thought.
The door reopened a few moments later, and two distinguished lords strode into the study, flanked by several shadow fae guards. The one to Lorcan’s left stood almost as tall as he with a thick black beard twisted together into a dozen braids. The one on the right was a much heartier version of the other, his grin bright, his eyes sparkling. Nollaig had filled him in on their histories and their names during the short journey. The slender, tall fae was Lord Tristin. He was the quiet one of the two. There wasn’t much known about him. Lord Maddox was the other. He enjoyed revels and feasts and had yet to bind himself to a wife, even though his family urged him to produce an heir.
“Your Highness.” Both lords bowed low. “I must admit, we’re surprised to see you here and at this time of night.”
“Apologies for the time, but this could not wait,” Lorcan said. “I’ve come to you because Findius is under siege.”
Lord Maddox slipped his thumbs beneath his bracers. “We’ve heard about the siege, Your Highness. Nasty business from a nasty king.”
Relief settled warmly in Lorcan’s gut. Perhaps this would be easier than he’d thought. “Lord Maddox, Lord Tristin. My advisors have informed me that you have a substantial army here in Caraid. One that might be our only hope of winning this war against Ulaid Molt.”
