Lugh shuddered. “I never understand Balor’s obsession with the Domhain. Deals and bargains for a throne of dust.”
“What if I made a bargain?” I whispered, holding out the Dagda’s staff. “What if I gave you this?”
The huntsman laughed.
Cormac’s expression cleared strangely.
“No.” Lugh tsked, though he did not elaborate. “Go back to the door and think of the place you want to go most. It will take you there.” He turned on his heel and disappeared into thin air, without saying goodbye.
The foyer seemed colder and much less welcoming. The shadows grew deeper, longer, as if watching us with bated breath. Outside of the castle, a singular wolf howled.
“We can’t go home with nothing.” I knitted my fingers together.
“We have knowledge. That’s better than nothing.” Cormac’s brow was etched in a frown, halfway between deep thoughts and anger. “A weapon made of Balor’s blood. If Lugh can’t help, we’ll just have to find a way to bleed the bastard dry.”
I scoffed. “If we can get close enough.”
Cormac ignored my scorn, muttering as we walked together to the door. “I’ve seen you wield water like a blade. You held the Dark King’s blood still inside his body. I’m certain you could fashion a blade from Balor’s blood. We just have to spill it.”
The gilded door waited. Lugh had said it would lead us where we wanted to go.
Home.
“Tarsainn?” My hand hesitated to reach for the handle.
“Too many meetings and advisors.” Cormac winced. “We’d never get out of the city without the entire stronghold offering an opinion on the merits of defeating Balor.”
“The Skala Beach?” I offered.
“Too many magical protections.”
“Well, where doyouthink we should go?” I snapped, pinching my brow. “We can’t just land in Elaine’s suite and start swinging a trident.”
Cormac had the nerve to look contrite.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “That was your plan, wasn’t it?”
“The Nymph Village,” Cormac suggested. “We don’t know if Balor will sense us in the water.”
I steeled myself, taking a deep breath as I reached for the door handle, keeping the firm image of the Nymph village in my mind.
Of Shay’s color-changing eyes and living braids. His burnished skin and plush lips. The roar of the bonfires, the smell of roasting meat, and leather tents.
The door swung open, but it was impossible to see to the other side.
Cormac held out his hand. “Together?”
“Together.” I nodded.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Shay Mac Eoin
He had never felt so helpless, wishing he could step into a Silver and arrive at Maeve’s feet.
He had felt her wake, if that was the right word for it.
One moment, the world had felt empty. His chest was a desolate and barren wasteland, his heartbeat thumped against his ribs without the comforting echo of Maeve’s heart cradling his.
