He brought it to his mouth and whispered.
“Please,” Shay asked, making a bargain with the twisted wood, before light stole his vision and blood filled the water.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Maeve Cruinn
I waited, hands knitted together, in front of the High Throne, though the stone was inert.
One of the guards had interrupted before I had a chance to sit, and Balor had been pacing ever since.
It took every ounce of my strength not to grin with triumph.
“They defeated theOilliphéist?!” Balor shrieked, her fists clenched together as she beat her thighs. “How did they get to the city limits before that behemoth?”
“They… er…” The guard’s eyes flicked to the window of the forgotten tower. “They…killed it.”
Balor blinked, as if she’d been struck in the head. “Killed it?”
“Yes, your majesty.” The guard mumbled. “Its body is… lying on top of several buildings in the city.”
Balor’s head snapped towards me, her teeth bared. The angriest I had seen her. A tendril of mirth turned my stomach warm.
“You.” She snarled.
My eyes widened. I pointed to my face. “Me?”
“That beast was expensive!”
“Nuada paid the price.” I pointed out. “Not you.”
Balir’s nostrils flared. Her glamour flickered, and her gills opened and closed several times as she reigned in her anger. “It doesn't matter.” She brushed her hands down the front of her dress. “I don’t need the beast. It was a distraction. All I need is the High Throne.”
“Why?” I knew it was all in my mind, but the scars from the throne burned as if fresh. “You said you had spies amongst all the creeds. Why do you need to see across the lake?”
“Stupid girl.” Balor clicked her tongue. “I don’t care what you see when you sit on the throne. I only care that it is fed.” She strode forward, grabbing my shoulders with remarkable strength. “It has taken years for the barrier between the domhain and the Aos Sí to weaken. Years of pouring your blood into the lake bed. The Dadga’s magic feeds the throne, but the bloodline will break the barrier.”
Years of sitting on the throne. Years of bleeding. Years of those horrid claws in my veins, piercing my forearms and legs. Pinned to desperate stone, drained dry.
I fucking hated that throne.
But I hated Balor more.
Every inch of my body rebelled, but I strode forward and sat on the throne. The movement was quick and unceremonious.
Balor’s eyes sparkled as she waited for the throne’s teeth to appear. I forced my body to relax and slung one leg over the armrest, as I had seen her do before.
Nothing happened.
The Kraken’s eye was long gone, back to its rightful owner. It had killed me, but I had given it back.
The Dagda’s staff was with Shay Mac Eoin, the only one of my mates that could touch the strange artefact—outside of city limits and far from the throne.
I hadn’t lied when I said I would return the Dagda’s magic to the throne. Not entirely. I was of the Dagda’s bloodline, and my magic sat on the throne at that very moment.
My bargain with Balor was complete.
I saw the moment realisation dawned on her face, and her glamour dropped from her features—revealing puckered coral and endless darkness. She leaned over, far enough that my nose brushes the rough surface of her face, no longer under any guise of being Fae.
