Aran looked up, his green eyes swirling with shadows, and held Tiernan’s gaze.
“I appreciate all of you coming.” Tiernan adjusted the rolled sleeves of his shirt, and his throat clenched. “Given the current state of the Four Courts, I assume you know why we’re here.”
There was a collective murmur of assent.
Ciara spoke first, her clear voice lacking its usual indifference. “Our mountains are losing more of their faces every day, but the snowfall has increased. We’re trapped in a never-ending blizzard. My citizens are forced to cope with freezing conditions, the likes of which have never been seen. Work is impractical and food is becoming scarce.”
She tilted her head to the side, her white hair framing her face in sharp angles. The snowflake crown she wore glittered like icicles. Glancing around the table, her vibrant blue eyes locked onto Merrick. “The Rainbow River that runs from Ashdara to Suvarese has turned leaden and dark.”
Dorian nodded, crossing his arms over his massive frame. “It is much the same in Autumn. Almost every tree is bare. The waterfalls have run dry. It’s as though all of life has ceased to exist.”
“Because it has, my lord.” Tiernan inclined his head toward the High King. “Faeven is dying.”
Ciara twisted the rope of diamonds around her neck. “Do we know why?”
“Not yet,” Tiernan answered.
Malachy stepped closer to his queen. “And what of Suvarese?”
“The Spring Court continues to be veiled.” Lir’s tone was ice. “With no way in or out, it’s impossible to know what Parisa is hiding.”
“Then in theory,” Dorian mused, tapping one finger on the table, “she could be responsible for all of this?”
Tiernan considered the High King.
Dorian ran his thumb along the band of the golden ring he wore, the one that bound him to Fianna. “Garvan told us Parisa found an alternate means of magic. Something evil. Something that grants her unrivaled power.”
Ciara bristled, leveling the High King with a frosty glare. “And why should we believe anything he says?"
“The High Queen is right.” Ceridwen stirred her cup of tea with a spoon, her lips pursed. “Are we to assume he just offered this information freely?”
“Of course not, Your Highness.” Dorian’s features darkened. “It was extracted from him using…necessary means.”
Taken aback, Tiernan remained silent. He hadn’t thought the High King would go to such extremes. Nor would he think him willing to torture his own son. Then again, Garvan had been the one to leave him cursed in fox form for over a decade.
“Did he mention what sort of dark magic she was using?” he asked.
“He did not. He passed out before I could ask.” Dorian inspected his nails, and the gesture was so much like Shay, Tiernan couldn’t help the sudden pang of remorse wrenching inside of him.
Aran must’ve noticed it as well because his face turned sickeningly ashen.
“Is it possible?” Brynn paced across the glossy stone floor, coming to stand beside Aeralie. “Could Parisa be the one behind this?”
“We shouldn’t rule her out of the equation.” Aeralie shifted toward Brynn, and Tiernan could’ve sworn their fingers brushed against one another.
“You’re right.” Tiernan leaned back in his chair. “Nothing and no one can be ruled out until we know for certain.”
“Which circles us back to the original question.” Dorian looked up to the menacing sky, where dark clouds blotted out any shred of sunlight. “How?”
“It’s why I must ask to search the Autumn Court.” At Tiernan’s words, Dorian’s brow arched and he edged forward in his seat. “I need to find the will ó wisp.”
Ciara gasped. “You can’t be serious.”
“The will ó wisp?” It was Aran who spoke, his voice nothing more than a rasp. “What for?”
“For this.” Tiernan signaled Lir and the commander stepped forward, gently placing the book from the glamoured alcove upon the table for everyone to see.
“Seven hells,” Aran murmured.
