Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Lorcan cradled her head into his lap. He brushed her hair out of her eyes as Niamh went to work ripping away part of her dress to get a look at the damage. So many beautiful dresses she’d ruined in the past few weeks.
“You’re okay now,” Lorcan told her.
She hissed as Niamh began to work on her wound. She didn’t understand the healing magic, only that it was not painless like she’d thought.
“Sorry,” Niamh said quickly. “Think good thoughts. The rest might hurt.”
“Thank you,” she whispered to both of them.
“Close your eyes. You’re safe.”
Safe. She was safe.
She didn’t feel safe. Jason had gotten away. He was still out there, and she didn’t know what he was going to do next. The Fae Killer was out there, too. Jason knew her true identity. Would he…tell him about her? She needed to talk about this with Graves. He’d have answers. He always had answers.
“Graves,” she said through gritted teeth as Niamh worked on her arm. “I need you to take me to Graves.”
Lorcan sighed heavily. “I’m afraid that I can’t do that.”
“I need to…I need to get back to him. He doesn’t know what happened.”
“Lorcan, hold her steady,” Niamh said.
Lorcan’s hands grasped her sides as he kept her from shaking. The contact made her jump. It was like a pipeline had opened that she no longer had a way of closing.
“Just rest,” he said softly, his fingers splaying across her skin. “After tonight, you won’t ever want to go back to him.”
“What does that mean?” Kierse asked, jerking against him.
He nodded at Niamh, who frowned at the gesture but put her hand on Kierse’s temple. “Sorry,” she whispered. Then she said the word, “Sleep.”
Her anger at Lorcan’s betrayal dissolved into the fading light.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
For the second time that night, she awoke in an unfamiliar place. She was lying on the ground with her cheek pressed against the earth. The scent of freshly tilled soil and green grass and something that she could only ever begin to describe as Ireland. Which made no sense. She was certainly not in Ireland.
It was the pulse of energy all around her that finally made her open her eyes. She was lying on a blanket of moss. Her gaze lifted to see the Oak Throne in all its glory. Seated on the throne was the irreverent Oak King. She blinked, and that vision of him was gone, replaced by the ruler of the Druids sitting imperiously in his place.
The duality of Lorcan was not lost on her.
She had been reeled in by that glimpse of him, only to fall victim, once again, to who he truly was—the self-righteous ruler.
His eyes cast down upon her, and she shivered. The force of that look was staggering, as if he could see straight through her, to the heart of who she was. Their connection that had been growing was now an open tap. All she had to do was turn the dial and the whole thing ratcheted up to dizzying levels.
“Hello, little songbird,” he said with a radiant smile. The one that should have won her over, but only made her stomach dip in warning.
She’d known he was an enemy. She’d known he would do anything to get what he wanted. She shouldn’t have forgotten.
“Let me go,” she rasped.
“You’re not a hostage.”
She pushed herself up onto her elbows. The pain in her arm was gone. She looked down to see that first, she was dressed in new clothes—a loose, white silk dress—and second, the bullet wound in her shoulder was completely healed.
“Niamh is extremely talented,” Lorcan said. “The process is draining, though, and you were already on reserves.”
Kierse reached for her magic and saw that what Lorcan said was true. She was beyond low. She was nearly completely drained. All that energy she’d gotten from stealing the cauldron had been used to phase out of her chair and blast aside the guards. The little she’d had left, the healing had clearly tapped.
For a second, she considered the sacred tree that was not far from here. The one that had been created out of the triskel. But while it should have been easy to feel at this distance, it was like a block had been set around the room. She could no more reach for that tree than anything else outside of this room. Great.
Standing before Lorcan on the summer solstice, at the height of his fucking powers, with her tank on empty. This was going to be…fun.
Slowly, she eased to her feet. The white dress fell to her knees, the material soft and comfortable. Her feet were bare. All her jewelry had been removed, including her wren necklace. She brought a hand to her hair and felt that the top layer had been braided into a crown around the top of her head, while the rest fell loose to the middle of her back. She looked and felt…younger in the outfit. Not like the hardened girl she was, but rather someone she could have been in a different time and place. Either way, it didn’t feel like her.