Arden’s gaze was fixed faraway, as if he could see through the impenetrable steam.
“Don’t touch the water. You’ll burn yourself.” The Siren did not look at them as he spoke.
“Tarsainn is down there.” Shay pulled his hand back, frowning. “The Mer—”
“The Mer are likely boiling,” Arden said without emotion.
“Why?” Rainn had stood back until that moment, watching the two males. The Selkie would be the first to admit that he was more of a follower than a leader. He was happy to default to whatever Shay Mac Eoin decided, but it seemed that none of them had a plan or any idea what had happened.
Arden did not answer the question; instead, he asked another. “Do you know what happens when you boil a fish?”
Rainn felt the lump in his throat grow. The thought of so many Mer in that boiling water...
“Balor did this.” Shay stood up. “As revenge for Scylla.”
“Or perhaps, she was trying to get Cormac’s attention.” Rainn offered.
“She doesn’t know he’s dead?” Shay’s braids shifted in the breeze. The air of the lake was no longer frigid but painful.
Rainn clenched his fists. He didn’t want to say that word. ‘Dead’seemed so final. “Maeve has come back before.”
Shay eyed him as if he were mad. “And youknowthat she was dead?”
Rainn’s jaw hardened. “I felt it.”
Shay scratched his chest, revealing the top of the demonic brand on his chest. “I can still feel her,” Shay admitted. “But we know next to nothing of the Tuatha Dé Danann.”
Both Shay and Rainn turned to Arden expectantly.
The Siren was wary. “What?”
“How do you communicate with the gods?” Shay cocked his head to the side.
Arden eyed him as if he were an inch tall. “You pray.”
Chapter Nineteen
Maeve Cruinn
The Quorum had gathered, and Cormac and I were fetched as an afterthought.
Though the wounds had healed, I hadn’t quite forgotten the sensation of Bríd’s forest. The loss of my sight. The wolf’s teeth lodged in my arm.
I had always thought of my mother as benevolent. Kind and warm. The gods of the Tuatha Dé Danann were touted as wise and merciful—but also strong and unwieldy.
Brígid was a goddess, trapped in a punishment she could not escape. She had helped Balor and still paid the price.
Manannán mac Lir had shown me her personal hell for a reason.
I just couldn’t figure out what it was.
Cormac reached out and knitted his fingers with mine.
I raised a brow. “Should I be worried?”
“I can fuck you, but can’t hold your hand?” Cormac snickered. “Fecking hell, Princess. I thought you were going to crawl under my skin last night.”
My cheeks warmed. “Eejit.”
