Rainn’s fists clenched, his words locked behind clenched teeth. He turned on his heel and marched deeper into the Nymph village.
It didn’t take long to find Shay in the middle of the action.
The same tent that had housed Shay’s wedding celebrations had been quickly repurposed as a hospital, with blankets lining the floor as rows and rows of Nymphs tended to the Mer.
Though only the Mac Eoin bloodline boasted the ability to breathe underwater, almost all Nymphs could perform some level of healing.
The air of the sick tent was unusually warm. Perfumed with sweat and the delicate sweetness of multiple Nymph lures.
He shrugged off the magic, already spent from Shay’s earlier feeding.
He walked down a row of injured Mer, taking a moment to study their injuries. He paused when he saw a familiar face, though he didn’t know what to do with the fae in front of him.
Liam Cruinn, unconscious, on a bedroll—as burned as the Mer surrounding him. Rainn shook his head and stepped away, finding Shay Mac Eoin further down the tent.
Rainn placed his hand on Shay’s shoulder, and the Nymph gestured for a nearby female to take his place, healing the injured Mer.
Shay stood up, his clothing coated in blood. “News?” He asked, wiping the sweat from his brow.
“You were right. Balorboiledthe houses outside of the city wards.” Rainn said, jaw hard.
“You’re sure?” Shay’s eyes widened.
“We can’t wait for Maeve to return.” Rainn ground his teeth. “This kind of action is a declaration of war.”
“As if the war ever ended.” Shay retorted heavily. “Weneedto wait for Maeve.”
“We don’t know where she is. If she’s coming back—”
Shay slapped him. “She’s coming back.” His eyes flashed, and he pounded his chest. “I feel her here. Our bond. Don’t you?”
Rainn sucked in a breath. He couldn’t answer that.
He loved Maeve. He closed his eyes and could picture every inch of her face, but he couldn’t feel her. Not since she had almost died in Cruinn.
He had not voiced the thought to anyone.
“We have to wait.” Shay pleaded.
Rainn swept his hand out, gesturing to the injured Mer. “And what if more Fae die?”
“What would you have me do?” Shay rubbed his hand down his face. “Gather Arden, and swim to Cruinn to face Balor? Enchant a god with my lure, and then what? Stab her?”
“What will Maeve do?” Rainn argued. “Maeve is barely out of her youth herself. She may command the lake, but Balor is ancient and has abilities beyond our comprehension.If she returns—”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Shay narrowed his eyes. “You don’t believe she will return.”
“I have seen her turn to foam.” Rainn retorted. “She returned so quickly, not even a day had passed. The Kraken’s eye, the stone. It did something to her. Twisted her—”
Shay shook his head. “It wasn’t the stone.” He interrupted. “Balor broke something inside of her when we returned to Cruinn. You didn’t see her on the table. Bleeding. Dying. Maeve tried to take her own life to avoid the torture at Balor’s hands. Who amongst us can say we have experienced something like that? We are soldiers, we are rulers. We fight in the silt, with swords and fists, but we don’t endure. Those who fall, suffering, are turned to foam. A mercy.”
“Maeve was angry at us.” Rainn gritted his teeth. “For Cruinn.”
“Maeve was angry at everything,” Shay said. “Which is understandable.”
“I’ve been her Shíorghrá the longest.” Rainn’s voice rose. “Her burdens are mine. Her troubles are mine. But she has gone somewhere I cannot follow, and I am so—”
“I understand.” Shay nodded slowly. “You are angry too. Because she leaped, without thinking, to save Cormac. Who is not her Shíorghrá, as you are. Because she is gone, and we areleft to sort through the rubble of an enemy too powerful for either of us to face.”
