Lorcan chuckled, shaking his head. “Seems she has been here, after all. If she never came, you’d just deny it. There’d be no reason for you to mince words.”
It was the Dryad’s turn to laugh. “Silly little fae. You think I’m bound to your stupid rules? Your kingdoms and your vows? I don’t have to mince words. And neither do you, Lorcan Rothach.”
“Tell me everything she said to you.” He slammed his palms against the wall. It bucked beneath the force of his blow, enough for the Dryad’s eyes to grow wide. “That’s right. You think I have no power, but I do. And what’s more, I have anger and hate. I will slam my fists against this wall until it breaks.”
The Queen cast a glance over her shoulder. Lorcan could not see what was behind her, but he could guess it. All her pretty little Dryads, ready for the slaughter. His teeth burned with hunger. After the Pathetic One had taken over, he’d raced halfway back to Murias before he’d been able to retake control. He’d run so far and so fast that it had burned away all of the blood.
Lorcan had collapsed in exhaustion. The days had slipped by. When he finally awoke, hunger slashed his gut like knives. He’d only found one fae between here and there, and she’d been half out of her mind from the curse herself. The blood had tasted like ash in his mouth.
He needed fresh blood. Un-cursed blood.
The blood of these Dryads.
“You see it, don’t you?” A wicked smile curved his lips. “I’d rip off my own arm if it meant I could drink you all dry. I’m only holding on by the thinnest of threads. Tell me everything I need to know, and I’ll hold the beast at bay. Refuse, and…” He shrugged, flashing his teeth.
“We have weapons,” the Dryad Queen said, lifting her chin. “And we have magic.”
“So do I,” he growled.
Her eyes flashed. “You know what? I’ll tell you everything you want to know because it will do little to save you. Your Shieldmaiden did come here, just as you suspected. Her and her kingly friend, plus a few others. She wanted to know how to stop the curse, and I told her.”
A roar punched the air, scraping up Lorcan’s throat. He slammed his fist into the wall, grinning when it vibrated. The Queen lifted her hand and motioned to something beside her. Dozens of armed Dryads stormed into view, all wielding spears tipped in iron.
Lorcan froze. “You think you can stop me with some spears?”
“I think Reyna Darragh will be the one to stop you.” A smile stretched her lips wide. “And she isn’t here. She’s already halfway back to your castle by now.”
Lorcan pushed away from the wall, soul torn in two. Rage thrummed behind his eyes, building tension in his skull. He wanted to slaughter every last Dryad in that bloody village, but that would take hours, days. When he drank deeply, he often blacked out. He couldn’t afford to lose that kind of time, not when Reyna was so far ahead of him.
He had to cut her off. He had to get there first.
If she reached the throne before he did…
“How does she stop it?” he demanded. “What does she have to do to cure me?”
“I’ll never tell you that, Lorcan Rothach. You can force your way inside this village and kill us all, and I will never even whimper the words you want to hear. I will die with the answer while your beloved takes your throne.”
Lorcan’s hands shook. With a shout, he pounded the air and spun on his feet. One day, he would return here. He’d force a reckoning on them. They’d made an enemy out of him, and they would regret it. Soon, their blood would paint his hands.
But first, he had to kill Reyna.
33
Eislyn
The birthplace of the gods spit her out just as quickly as it had swallowed her whole. After she told Unseelie where he could shove his power, he’d refused to speak to her anymore. A moment later, she’d shot up through the pool, landing like a wet sponge on the bank beside Lir’s worn boots.
“Eislyn!” He gasped, kneeling before her and gathering her into his arms. “Are you alright? Have you been hurt? Do you need healing?”
With a heavy sigh, she breathed him in and leaned into him. He was so sure and so steady. He would not like what she had to say at all.
Eislyn had refused the deal, which meant she hadn’t stopped Reyna from transforming into the Namhaid. She hadn’tmadeit happen either by taking the power from Seelie instead. This left some doubt and some hope in her heart. If Reyna was the Namhaid, and Eislyn feared she was, perhaps it wasn’t too late to stop it.
Reyna would listen to her. Eislyn knew Reyna loved her with the kind of ferocity that could burn up an entire star. If Reyna Darragh would listen to anyone, it would be Eislyn, which meant only one thing. Eislyn had to find a way to leave the Empire of Fomor and Lir behind.
“I’m alright,” she said. “Just very tired. I made it to the gods, and they spoke to me.”
He stiffened. “What did they say?”
