She trembled beneath the weight of his words, thinking of the Ruin. Reality crashed down around her again, just as a newfound hope had poked up, soothing her soul. “I’m not. Lorcan, there’s something I need to tell you.”
He furrowed his brows. “What is it, Reyna?”
“I…” She trailed off and closed her eyes. “I’m going to die, Lorcan. The Ruin, it’s going to kill me.”
It had been so long since she’d seen him, he did not know the truth about the Ruin. He’d been battling his way through the streets when she’d pulled the Ruin into her body so that she might save the world. In the end, she’d doomed it. The only way to stop herself from transforming into the Namhaid was to let the Ruin swirl through her veins until it tore her apart.
It would die. And she would die.
There was nothing else.
Nollaig stepped closer as Reyna told her story. The shadow fae was silent, but she could still feel the weight of her gaze. When she was finished, it was she who spoke first.
“But you’re surely not the Namhaid,” Nollaig said. “That’s impossible.”
Reyna frowned. “You don’t seem surprised by all of this.”
“Well, of course not. I’ve heard of the Namhaid.” Nollaig shrugged. “Destroyer of the world, all that jazz.”
Lorcan’s face had remained as blank as stone as if the very act of opening his mouth might shatter the world around him. Reyna understood how he felt. She’d felt the same only days before.
“Where did you hear this?” Lorcan asked in a slow, measured voice.
“Never you mind about that,” Nollaig said. “What matters is that Reyna doesn’t fit the prophecy.”
Not for the first time, Reyna wondered who thehellNollaig was. She was no normal fae. That much was clear. But she also knew that Nollaig would never reveal it, not until she was ready.
“Unfortunately, I think you might be wrong about this one, Nollaig,” Reyna said, her dreams flashing in her memory. “The Namhaid is an ice princess with an owl familiar. A warrior, one who wields a bloody axe and cleaves the world.”
“You don’t have an axe,” Nollaig pointed out.
“Well, not yet,” she said with a frown. “I had a dream about it, too. It’s Motcha’s Axe that does it.”
Nollaig crossed her arms. “The one that’s lost in the ruins of the Fire Court?”
“That’s the one.”
“Again, Shieldmaiden. You don’t have that axe.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t one day have it.”
“And you have plans to go get it, do you? Cooking up a little trip to the fire lands next?”
“Well, no.” Reyna let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m not the Namhaidyet. My mind has to be twisted by Unseelie first.”
“You’re not the Namhaid.”
“Honestly, Nollaig, I don’t know why you’re not paying attention to what I’m saying.” Reyna threw up her hands. “The Ruin was trying to kill me all that time because I am the Namhaid. That was its whole purpose. I have an owl familiar. I’m an ice princess.”
“Stop.” Lorcan’s commanding tone shot a flame of heat through Reyna’s core. He held up his hands, stepping between her and Nollaig. “I need you two to stop bickering about this like it’s no big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Nollaig said. “Because she’s not the Namhaid.”
A low growl erupted from Lorcan’s throat. Nollaig fell silent.
“Whether or not Reyna is this prophesied Namhaid doesn’t matter right now,” he said with flashing eyes. “What matters is that the Ruin is going to kill Reyna if she does not get rid of it.”
“I can’t get rid of it,” Reyna said, glancing out at the mists. “If I do, it’ll not only kill me with its storm, it’ll destroy all of Tir Na Nog. The Dagda created the storm to protect the realm, but there’s something wrong with it. He gave it too much power and didn’t keep it under control. It doesn’t care about anything but destruction.”
