Tor knew every inch of his room, from his bed to the sharpened weapons in his armoire, but the Reeds no longer felt like home. Only a familiar place, instead.
He washed the grime from his body, the kind that didn't dispel simply by being underwater. He scrubbed himself raw with soap-silt and drank an entire glass of wine despite the bubble charm slowing his attempt to down the drink in one gulp.
Tor was able to quiet his nerves, if only a little. He was back in the Twilight Lake. It was only a matter of time before Maeve would arrive, no doubt with some plan Rainn, Shay, and Cormac had concocted. A plan to put the lake to rights and defeat the scurge.
All he had to do was hold down the Reeds. Protect his people. Await Balor’s movements.
Elsbeth Shadowhock burst through the door. Her personal guards halted at the threshold as she stormed through alone.
Elsbeth had a habit of simply ‘arriving’ without announcement. He hadn’t ever known her to knock.
“Where’s Maeve?” She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. “And Rainn, and Shay Mac Eoin. That blasted Mer? I thought they’d come with you.”
Tor sat up with a sigh, brushing his hands down the fabric of his fresh clothing. “They have other business to attend to. I came across a herd of traumatized Wild Fae.”
“Traumatized is right.” Elsbeth found the nearest chair and dropped down with a flourish. Her dark hair fell around hershoulders. The female version of Tormalugh Shadowhock, save for the lack of an emotionless mask.
“They were the Dark King’s personal steeds.” Tor studied his nails. Detaching himself from the flurry of rage that ignited inside of him—as if his blood was dried tinder ready to blow. “The Night King held races every evening. Sometimes, he would not let them finish until they collapsed with exhaustion. All for the sake of entertainment.”
Elsbeth covered her mouth in horror. “I thoughtwewere the last Kelpies.”
“I did too.” He grimaced. “Alas, the Night King has hunted our kind to extinction, save for those in his stables and those of us who escaped a millennium ago.”
“Some of those Kelpies, the elders, they could share our bloodline.” Elsbeth’s face crumbled in deep thought.
“Many are too frightened to take on a two-legged form.” Tor, too exhausted from the journey, flopped back onto the bed.
“What is the story about the scarred Kelpie?” Elsbeth leaned forward.
“Rian Swiftgait.” Tormalugh nodded. “A threat, to be sure. The leader of the Dark King’s herd. Whether by blood or by magic, I don’t know.”
Elsbeth’s eyes sparkled. “Is he going to be a problem?”
“You like problems, don’t you?”
“I like solving them.” She countered.
“Rian Swiftgait is not a problem to be solved. He is a tool, and a useful one at that. If the war reignites, we will need strong and seasoned fighters.”
Elsbeth went pale. “You don’t know?”
“About what?” Tormalugh cracked an eye and glanced at his sister.
“The Undine Queen wiped out any soldiers left at the trench.” She gulped and looked away. “We were lucky. All of theKelpies, save for a scout, had been pulled back to the Reeds. The scout escaped, enough to tell us what happened.”
“Elaine Cruinn is officially queen of Cruinn.” Tor let out a pained breath. “You received my missive?”
“The cryptic warning, you mean?” Elsbeth quirked a brow, and it was like looking in a mirror. “Balor rules Cruinn. Balor of the Deep, ruler of the Fomorians, banished from the Tuatha Dé Danann. That Balor?”
“From what I understand about the Gods of the Tuatha Dé Danann, they require a vessel to walk the Aos Sí. I believe that Balor is inside Elaine Cruinn.” Tor explained.
Elsbeth cocked her head to the side. “How sure of this information are you?”
“I saw her true face,” Tor stated. “I'm pretty fecking sure.”
“You aren’t planning to leave again, are you?” Elsbeth knitted her fingers together. “So soon?”
“I came from the Dark Sea.” Tor closed his eyes, laying his arm across his forehead. “We rode for a week, without stopping. The Siren Queen has Silvers to Cruinn, but I doubt Maeve and the others would be able to use them.”
