His eyes dipped toward her chest. “Where’d you get that ring?”
Reyna instinctively reached up to her neck and wrapped her fingers around the ice glass ring. “From my mother.”
“You should wear it on your hand, not around your neck. It’ll give you more power that way.”
A strange humming sensation prickled the back of her neck. A sense of knowing, of eerie realization. A tumble of thoughts fell into place like puzzle pieces that had been scattered to the far corners of the world. She’d held onto this necklace when she was in danger. More than once. The Ruin had even told her to touch it when she’d forced the dark magic out of her body and into Ulaid Molt.
“The ring holds power,” she whispered, mentally kicking herself for not understanding sooner. “Time and time again, it’s helped me. Hasn’t it?”
“Likely so. Your mother may have put a bit of her power inside of it. And it will help you far more if it’s touching your skin.”
Reyna yanked the necklace. The chain broke, and the pulse of the ice against her palm made her sit up straight. She slipped the ring onto her middle finger and appreciated the way it glinted beneath the light. Why had she ever taken it off?
“Now, try reading the book,” Rhain suggested gently.
With a deep breath, Reyna flipped open the cover and stared at the words. At first, they were nothing more than a jumble of letters, just like they always had been. But as she continued to stare, the letters almostshiftedin her mind, rearranging themselves into something she understood.
A strangled gasp exploded from her throat. “I can read this. Oh my gods, Rhain. You were right.” She glanced up, heart banging her ribs. “I can read this.”
He grinned. “‘Course you can. You’re Fomorian.”
Her bones quivered. She hadn’t wanted to face this truth before. It scared the living daylights out of her. Princess Reyna Darragh, part Fomorian. She thought of those great winged creatures from across the Sea of Fomor, who came each year on Beltane to cut down the fae of Tir Na Nog. Myths or monsters, maybe both.
How could that be her?
Swallowing hard, she shook away those thoughts. She would have to face them eventually, but right now, she had a book to read. While Rhain settled against the wall, sipping on his Wood Whiskey, Reyna flipped through the book, her dread growing deeper and darker with every turn of the page.
Finally, she snapped the book shut. She’d only read a small portion of it, and it was already worse than she’d thought.
“Itisa curse. But it’s not the king killing one. It’s something else,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “He found an ancient curse, one he could use against anyone who killed him. A way to ensure that if someone fought him, they would forever suffer for it.”
Rhain’s brows pinched together. “I fear your next words.”
“He cursed his killer’s soul. To be forever bound to Unseelie. Darkness would sweep through him, transforming him into a servant of blood and bone. It will spread to everyone who binds themselves to him. That’s the whole kingdom, Rhain. Every wood and shadow fae alive. And if the northern kings sign the treaty, it’s all of Tir na Nog.”
8
Reyna
“This can’t be happening,” Reyna whispered. It felt as if the floor itself had turned to molten lava, and it was swallowing her whole. She’d known something was wrong with Lorcan, but she’d thought it would be something she could fix. Something simple, or at least simple compared to everything they’d endured together so far.
Rhain snatched the book and twisted it so that he could read the words himself. She was silent as she watched him flip through the pages, hopeful that he might somehow read far different words than she had. Maybe the letters would rearrange themselves again. Maybe they would tell a different tale. Anything butthis.
“Fuck.” Rhain slammed the book shut and grasped at the tankard before him. Whiskey sloshed out of the top, splashing onto the wood. “I should have known Molt would do something like this. He was always two steps ahead of everyone else. Thinking, scheming, dreaming. He always had a plan, and a back-up plan after that. All this time, he was even plotting his own damn death.”
Reyna gripped the table, holding back a scream of desperation and rage.Sheshould have been the one to kill Molt. Lorcan never should have been anywhere near him. It had been her responsibility. Not his.
“I’ve doomed him.” For a moment, she almost got lost in her sorrow, in her regret. It felt like the Ruin all over again, peppering her with insults and accusations. She’d done this. She’d caused all this pain. She was the reason everything would go down in flames. Even though the storm was no longer inside of her, she hadn’t fully rid herself of its wind and rain. Sometimes, the thoughts were overwhelming. And this time, they were all hers.
Rhain’s frown deepened. “It’s not your fault, lass, but we do need to find a way to stop this. Or we really will be doomed, your lover included.”
“How?” she whispered, her eyes drifting to the book. Pages had never before looked more like scorpions. “Even in his death, the Namhaid lives on. He was going to destroy the world one way or another.”
“Of course he lives on,” Rhain said grimly. “Death is but a journey to another place.”
“Ifrinn,” Reyna whispered. “The hellscape of fire of blood, of endless burning heat.”
To an ice fae, it was the worst fate imaginable. To someone like Ulaid Molt…he might even enjoy it.
