Lorcan trailed over to the bed, dropping his armor and tunic onto the floor. The ridges along his chest flickered with strength, highlighted by the steady glow of the candlelight. When he climbed beneath the covers, Reyna slid in beside him. He shifted away from her. His back was rock hard and solid, like a wall.
Her heart thumped. She ached to wrap her arms around him and pull him close. He was clearly run ragged. Something was bothering him, even if he refused to say what it was. He’d always confided in her before. He’d never shut her out like this, not even when she’d been a prisoner of his own father.
This cold, aloof male before her was a stranger.
Something must have happened. This morning, he had been himself. Light had sparked in his eyes, and that familiar smile curved his lips. He’d kissed her with a ferocity that made her toes curl. And now he couldn’t even bring himself to look into her eyes.
What had happened? Had it just been that attack? He said it didn’t bother him, but maybe he was too afraid to admit that it did. After so long spent fighting, maybe he’d hoped his reign would start in peace.
Maybe he was just hurting. Maybe a little sleep was all he needed.
With a sigh, Reyna rolled onto her back and stared up at the vines crawling along the ceiling. Everything would look brighter at dawn.
* * *
The throne suited Lorcan. Twisting vines and thorns spiralled around his cloaked form, his antler crow blending in, as if it were an extension of the throne. Reyna stood at the back of the Great Hall, watching him converse with the lords and ladies of his two courts.
Two. Reyna could scarcely believe it. When she’d met Lorcan, he’d been a fellow warrior, like herself. A guard to the prince, tasked with keeping the peace…and his head down. Someone meant to blend in with the shadows. Now, he had been thrust into a position far more powerful than the prince he’d once served. Lorcan Rothach was the High King of two ancient courts.
Nollaig edged up beside Reyna, her face hidden beneath the folds of her ebony cloak, as always. “You look troubled.”
“That’s because I am troubled.” Reyna frowned as she watched her love converse with the lords. His lips were twisted into a strange, cruel smile she’d never before seen on him. He still did not seem like himself.
“His Highness mentioned things have been strained between the two of you since the coronation.”
Her frown deepened. “He told you that?”
“He said you’re hung up on some book.” Nollaig’s cloak rustled around her face as she shifted toward Reyna. “In fact, he asked me to find it and get rid of it.”
Reyna stiffened as a strange sense of unease slithered down her spine like a poisonous snake. “He asked you to get rid of Molt’s book? Don’t you think that’s a bit strange, Nollaig?”
Nollaig shrugged. “His Highness thinks it’s odd you’re so fixated on finding a problem when none exists.”
“Look at him.” Reyna inclined her head toward Lorcan. He lounged on the throne, his hands dangling off the thorny armrests. One leg was crossed over the other, and he’d pulled his hair back away from his face to accentuate the sharp tips of his ears. “Is that the same bastard boy you plucked from obscurity to become your perfect High King? Has he ever before looked smug? Like he thought he was better than all of them. All of us?”
When dawn had arrived that morning, Lorcan had not returned to his old self as Reyna had hoped. He’d vanished from the bed before she awoke. When she’d turned to the door just as he was slithering out of their chambers, she’d called after him. He gave her a terse goodbye and nothing more. And she hadn’t seen him since, until now.
Nollaig was silent for a long moment, and Reyna thought she might have actually gotten through to her. But she merely let out a tired sigh. “You both have been through a lot these past few weeks. It’s no wonder you’re struggling to adjust to this new world spread out before us.”
“I’m not struggling to adjust, Nollaig,” Reyna said through gritted teeth. Irritation flared within her gut as she turned her attention back on Lorcan. It was no use trying to talk to Nollaig about this. Reyna had a lot of respect for the shadow fae and she appreciated her deep loyalty to her High King, but it meant that she had a veil across her eyes. Lorcan had changed. And Reyna was the only one who could see it.
3
Eislyn
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the sky from anything other than a window.” Eislyn stood on the top step of the staircase that led down to the looming doors of Aotrom Palace. Through those doors, she would find the city of Tusail and the world beyond the gleaming golden walls. She hadn’t once left this palace since the Fomorians had captured her. Adrenaline pounded through her veins from anticipation.
Emperor Lir Lothian cast her a sidelong glance. Things had been tense between them since he’d made the decision for them to go in search of answers. He was drawn to her. She was certain of it. But he was also wary. Eislyn Darragh might be the Namhaid, the one to end everything.
And if she was, they would soon find out.
After that…she shuddered to think what he might do.
“Excited to fly?” he asked with a smile that lit up his bronze face.
“Well, no.” Instinctively, she lifted her hand to her owl’s mouse-brown feathers, rustling them between their fingers. She still hadn’t named the strange bird. If she did, it would only confirm a truth she wanted to avoid…that he was her familiar. “I wish there were another way we could travel that didn’t mean I’d plummet to my death if you drop me.”
She pointedly avoided peering at his flared black wings. They were darkness personified, and she ached to reach out and brush her fingers against the soft feathers. But he wouldn’t want her to touch him, especially not in front of so many Fomorian guards. If it were up to them, she’d be dead.
