Chapter 12

12

A knock sounded on my door. Groaning, I twisted in the sheets to peer at the clock, expecting it to be bloody six in the morning. I was surprised when the display said it was ten. Huh. That was a first.

It was also a little unnerving when the door didn't fly open and when the pounding didn't hammer its way into my brain. Instead, I had to slowly climb from the bed, pad across the cold floor, and crack open the door myself, blanket wrapped around my shoulders like a cape.

Lugh stood on the other side, looking a little worse for wear. His hair fell into eyes that were lined in red. His black shirt was rumpled, and he wore a loose pair of joggers, probably to keep his trousers from rubbing against the wound.

Still, the sight of him somehow pierced me to my very core .

"I'd like to speak with you," he said quietly. "Would you come to my quarters in half an hour?"

I arched a brow. Well...this was unexpected. "That sounds like a question. Not a command."

"That's because it is a question." He peered down at me, his eyes soft and searching for something in mine. "You can say no, but I hope you won't."

And with that, he spun on his heels and vanished down the hallway.

O bviously, I wasn't going to turn down a chance to speak privately with Lugh in a place where our words couldn't be overheard. Plus...his fancy case-enclosed spear would be there with him. Maybe I could finally get some answers about that...and all those books, too.

First, I had a stop to make.

The door to my room had been left unlocked, and no one was waiting in the hallway to chaperone me around the castle, which meant...maybe Lugh hadn't been delirious when he'd agreed to let me have a little more freedom.

Now that I'd saved his ass, he trusted me, at least a little more than he had before. Time to use that to my advantage and ignore the twinge of guilt in my heart because of it .

I owed him nothing. Not as long as he worked against my queen, my friend.

I still had the note full of numbers for Clark. If she could figure out my code, she'd learn that there was a new court in town, led by the traitor who wanted to find that mysterious cauldron. That was all I could manage to fit on the note in number form.

This time, I didn't risk heading into the courtyard. I bustled through the Great Hall, thankful for the quiet emptiness that filled the expansive space. It was between breakfast and lunch, and no fae roamed the rows of tables. Outside, on the balcony, I waited for the raven.

Clark would know what to do with this information. She'd always done the right thing before. I trusted she would do it again now. I hoped she would understand that the fae of this court were not all bad, even if some were. I barely knew them, but Saoirse and Imogen—even if she had a penchant for thievery—had proven to me that most of the fae here just wanted a safe, happy life.

At some point, if things continued like this, Clark would no doubt feel forced to bring her warriors here, to take up arms against the self-proclaimed King of the Wraiths. I just hoped no innocents got caught in the crossfire.

The raven finally spotted me and dropped onto the wrought-iron railing. With a shaky breath, I handed it the parchment and watched it soar away into the clouds. That was it then. If Clark could translate my code, she would understand what we were up against. And she would be waiting for my next note, the one that would tell her what Lugh planned to do to take her throne.

As I turned to go, a flash of red at the bottom of the cliffs caught my eye. Frowning, I leaned over the railing to peer down at it. Even with my fae sight, it was difficult to make out what it was. A vague figure. A person, human, fae, or otherwise. Someone with blazing red hair.

Warin, I couldn't help but think. Saoirse had mentioned a secret tunnel through the cliff, and he was down there now, looking for it.

Heart thumping, I pushed back into the Great Hall and headed toward Lugh's quarters. None of this concerned me, I tried to tell myself. Nothing I could say or do would make a difference.

I was more nervous than I had expected when I approached The Royal Palace. Last time I'd been here, Lugh hadn't been home and I'd had Imogen to keep me company. Now, it would just be me and him and the questions I longed to ask.

He opened the door before I knocked and motioned me inside. Swallowing hard, I followed him down the hallway and into the rooms he'd set up as his home. There were far more rooms than this inside The Royal Palace, but they were empty for now. For the first time, I couldn't help but wonder how lonely he was in here by himself .

"Sit." He motioned at the sofa, once again covered in books.

"Has anyone ever told you about these marvellous inventions called bookcases?" I said, smirking as I strolled through the mess. "They have shelves and everything. It helps keep these things from crowding the floor, your sofas, your bed."

He ran a tired hand down his face, but I swore I saw the glimmer of a smile. "Bookcases are permanent."

"And these aren't?" That surprised me. He obviously loved reading. Otherwise, he wouldn't have collected about a million different books.

He waved his hands at the stacks dismissively. "I cycle through the collections often enough that I don't want to get attached to how they look in my bedroom."

My heart slowed. What a strange way of putting it.

"You do mean your books, right?" I glanced around. "Or do you have visitors here often?"

And by visitors, I obviously meant... visitors .

The pain in his expression vanished, replaced now by a cocky ease. "If I did, no one would ever know." He leaned back, lacing his hands behind his head. "I could roar in pleasure as she screamed out my name, and not a single soul would hear but the two of us."

A tremor went through me, and a mental image sprang into my mind that I wasn't sure I would ever be able to shake. Lugh above me, nipping my ear and roaring in pleasure. My entire face felt as hot as the sun on the longest summer day.

Blimey, I needed to get a grip.

Clearing my throat, I settled into the armchair, picked up a book on the witch trials, and began to idly flip through it. "Why'd you call me in here, Lugh? I know it wasn't to discuss your fondness for cycling through books. And lovers."

He leaned back in the chair opposite mine, regarding me carefully. "You call me Lugh. Not your king."

Heat once again flooded my face. I hadn't even noticed. That was probably something I needed to stop if I wanted him to take me seriously.

"It's taking me some time to get used to using that kind of title," I said honestly. Even before Clark became Queen, it was always Prince or Master to the male who had been in charge of the Court. I hardly ever called her Queen now, either. It was just Clark. That was how we both liked it.

"Be careful," he warned. "I personally don't mind the relaxed approach to titles, but many here would consider it an insult to my authority."

I arched a brow. "Wait a minute. You actually don't mind? And here I thought most royals liked to insist on titles, particularly one who has kind of made himself his own king of his own made-up court. Respect and all that."

"I am not your normal king. "

Something I was quickly realising myself. He wasn't like anyone I'd ever met, in fact. That said, I still had no idea what, exactly, he was like. Lugh was an enigma. A puzzle. One I was desperate to solve.

I snapped the book shut. "You still haven't told me why you asked me to come here."

He raked a hand through his hair and sighed. "I wanted to thank you for what you did last night. If you hadn't fought by my side, I might have died. If you hadn't called Saoirse, I could have bled out on the cobblestones. I owe you, Moira."

I shrugged, acting all nonchalant, but I couldn't ignore the frantic beating of my heart. "I was actually the one who owed you. For all the help in the vaults."

He gave a quick shake of his head. "I was the one who forced you to do the trial, so the help I gave you there did not create a debt that you owed."

I mean, he had a point...I was just surprised that he saw it that way, too.

I leaned forward and braced my elbows on my knees. "So what are you saying?"

His lips quirked. "I haven't forgotten what you asked for. A sword, training, and unlocked doors."

I sat up a little straighter in the chair. I'd wondered if he'd been too delirious, too out of it to remember promising me those things. He'd left my door unlocked this morning, but I could hardly believe that meant he'd finally put my sword in my hands.

"Your doors will no longer be locked, and you won't require a chaperone through the grounds." His dark eyes roamed across my body. "You're strong. You'll make a good warrior with a little training. That said, I think we both know you've had some before now. I saw the way you fought. An untrained fae would not have been able to do what you did with a simple metal sign."

I cleared my throat. Of course he would have noticed. Regardless of what innate abilities I might have, it took years of experience to train one's body to move as instinctively as mine did in a fight. Especially when I hadn't even had my sword.

"I've had some," I admitted. No use in trying to deny it. He might be cocky, cruel, and traitorous, but he wasn't daft. "I've met other solitary fae. One of them was a pretty good fighter, and he taught me some tricks."

"Hmm." His eyes flashed as he tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair. "You are still keeping secrets from me."

Surprise flittered through me. "And you're still keeping them from me."

He leaned forward, power rippling off his body in waves. "And what secrets would you have me spill, Moira?"

At the intensity of his gaze, my heart did a little flip. I wet my lips. "For starters, you could explain who those fae were who jumped us in the alley. They mentioned a cauldron. What's that all about? "

He regarded me carefully for a moment. "The Gundestrup Cauldron."

I shook my head. I'd never heard of it. "The gund-what?"

"Gundestrup." He let out a heavy sigh and shut his eyes. "It is an ancient magical vessel, made centuries ago. It comes straight from Faerie itself."

Wow. There weren't many things that still existed in this world that came from the fae realm. Most of those artefacts hadn't made it through the portal. The fae had fled to the mortal realm when ours had been destroyed. Not everyone had made it, and very few items had been brought along. Faerie had come back to life now, thanks to the Morrigan's reign, but most of the fae had stayed here instead of going back.

"Okay." My heart thundered in my ears. "What does it do?"

"Regeneration," he said, his voice pained. "It has the ability to bring someone back from the dead."

I wasn't sure what I'd expected him to say. Something along the lines of stealing a crown, growing an army, forging some kind of weapon that would never miss its mark. But bringing someone back from the dead? My mind churned. I didn't understand how that had anything to do with the throne or the Morrigan.

"So." I glanced at the books surrounding us, my eyes flashing from one title to the next. One on Celtic items. Another on historical jewels. And yet another on the mythology surrounding metallurgy. These books were to help him find this cauldron. "Those fae in Barrie's Close. They're looking for this cauldron."

He nodded. "Some are members of this court."

I'd figured that much, especially with Warin poking around. "And...you're looking for it, too?"

"They're looking for it because they wish to bring someone back from the dead." His eyes went dark. "I'm searching for it to prevent them from doing it. Because of that, they want me out of the picture."

A strange fear flickered through me. "And who is it they want to bring back from the dead?"

He let out a long, shuddering exhale. "Nemain, the fae who tried to destroy the Morrigan. The fae who murdered dozens of innocents. The fae who would enslave the humans of this realm if she had the power to rule. They want her back."