The air was heavy. Waiting.
The large male dipped his head in agreement.
The tension disappeared as if it had never existed. The air shimmered around the large male, and where a dark horse had once stood, an unfamiliar fae took its place.
The male was older than Tor, though not by much. They shared the same dark hair, though the stranger had a single silver strand that his equine form shared. The scars tilted his lips into a peculiar kind of smile.
“My name is Rían.” The impassive male declared. “My herd will follow you to your lake.”
Chapter Three
Shay Mac Eoin
Gracious, though impatient, the Kraken’s wave flushed them from his lair, depositing Shay Mac Eoin and Rain Shallows in the Siren’s Cove.
Smoke curled into the sky from behind the craggy cliffs. The sheer rock face extended so high that it blocked all but a sliver of light.
The air stank of death and fire.
Shaken to his core, it took most of Shay’s strength to force his trembling limbs to cooperate.
The Selkie flopped forward, rolling his legless body to the shore, collapsing onto his belly. His dark eyes were fathomless, as if his Fae mind had retreated behind the mask of his seal form.
Shay followed suit, pulling himself free of the water and falling onto his back. Exhaustion claimed him. He closed his eyes, feeling his braids writhe against his cheeks as he struggled to control his emotions.
The Nymph searched, deep, inside himself, for any hint. A spark. Anything that might prove Maeve was still alive. Their bond was a tattered ribbon in the wind.
Rainn had told him about the battle of the Abyss, though it had hardly seemed like a battle at all—Maeve had turned to foam, struck in the back by Cormac’s blade. She had survived then.
She would survive now, surely.
Shay Mac Eoin held onto that.
It was the only thing that stopped the Nymph from crumbling.
Contrary to belief, Nymphs only mated once. Once they found their fated mate, their souls would be bonded, and there would be no other.
Rainn’s seal body shimmered as the Selkie changed forms, flopping down on his back by the Nymph’s side.
The Selkie’s jaw hardened. “The fire. The smoke.” He bit out. “Belisama’s cradle.”
Shay sat up, his heart falling to his stomach. “The Sirens?”
The Selkie faced the sky, his lips pressed together as he nodded.
Shay’s heavy brow furrowed. “The Sirens had an alliance with King Irvine. They offered soldiers. Furthermore, Nuada is a God. Attacking a God is just plain foolish.”
Rainn scoffed but did not look at Shay. “Gods, gods, gods. Who knows their plans?”
Shay, still frowning, turned back to the Dark Sea. The water, lapping at his feet, began to recede. Sucked back, as if falling down the plug of a bathtub—like the one in the Dark King’s palace.
Rainn stood up, brushing his hands down the wet fabric of his tunic. “A Selkie and a Nymph against Balor’s forces?” He suggested wryly. Something had dimmed in Rainn, like a candle snuffed out, yet still smoldering.
“Maeve is still alive.” Shay jutted his chin.
Rainn closed his eyes slowly. “I can’tfeelher.”
“She has Cormac.” Shay continued. “We cannot afford to wait in the cove.”
