“What are you doing?” I gestured to his hands.
Liam revealed a length of wire, the kind I had seen my uncle knit with hundreds of times before. Weaver wire.
“It turns out, I am not destined to be a Troid Sídhe, after all.”
“Does that upset you?” I asked gently. “I know you wanted to be one of the palace guards.”
Liam flashed a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Some things aren’t meant to be, I guess.”
I laughed, though the sound was hollow. “If only you could Weave us a weapon against Balor.”
“What kind of weapon can kill a god?”
“Iron, and the blood from their line, apparently.” I waved a hand dismissively. “We asked Lugh, and he said no.”
Liam frowned but said nothing.
“All the others are in the Tuatha Dé Danann. I sighed.
“What was it like?” He asked. “Death?”
I paused, thinking over my answer. “The same as life, I suppose. Though that depends on your views of life.”
Before he could ask any more questions, a noise echoed across the sand.
I cocked my head to the side. “Do you hear that?”
“The water?”
“Yes.” I frowned.
“It’s been whispering for a while.” Liam winced. “I don’t want to step in the water. It doesn’t feelright.”
Before either of us could say another word, an equine head emerged from the water. In the darkness, I thought it might be Tormalugh. My stomach leaped into my throat, and I stepped forward before my body caught up with my brain.
Liam sprang to his feet and grabbed my bicep before I could step into the waves. “It’s not your Kelpie.” He hissed.
As the horse grew closer, I realized he was right. The equine was a charm, like many of the enchanted horses in the Cruinn stables. I couldn’t tell which type in the moonlight, but it drifted towards us, made of water and magic.
The horse stopped before the water ended, and neither of us moved.
“Maeve Cruinn...”Balor’s voice echoed from the depths of its watery body.“I have your Kelpie. Return what you stole, and you may have him back.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Maeve Cruinn
The moment light bloomed on the horizon, bathing the lake in a glow, we set off for Cruinn—following the devastation the Fomorians had left behind as they had trawled from Tarsainn to the Nymph Village, and bypassing the caves, that we had no hope of traversing unscathed.
My shift had been thrown away, and the only clothing I could find favored Nymph fashions. Rather skimpy and made of animal skins that sucked up water like a sponge. Though I thought I looked foolish, I didn’t complain. My belly was full, and clean clothes were hard to come by. A whole night’s sleep had changed my perspective immensely.
Although I was heading to Cruinn, I had as much desire to go as a lobster walking into a trap; I knew it was necessary.
Balor had taken Tormalugh. My Shíorghrá.
The knowledge that my Kelpie was at her mercy filled me with a fevered need to keep moving. Which Arden no doubt shared, as his mother was in Balor’s clutches as well.
Aside from the bleached coral and odd stillness in the lake, the water remained as it always had, as if it were dying but hadn’t quite realized. Evidence of Balor’s rage had left scars onthe lakebed, where the fomorians had risen, and I had no idea how many more were in Cruinn.
