Chapter 15

15

I tried to argue my way out of The Royal Palace, but Lugh wasn't having it. After about five minutes of protestations, I finally gave up, partially because...well, I didn't fully want to leave. The room on the top floor of the residential halls was ice cold, and the temperature had plummeted over the past few days.

I didn't hate the idea of staying with him.

Together, we changed the sheets, tossing the blood-drenched set in the wash—probably in futility. The things were heavily stained. After helping me slide the final pillow into its sleeve, Lugh strode to the doorway and gave me a gruff goodnight.

Well then. I blew out a breath, shrugged out of my jeans, and settled back into the bed in only my tank top. The flannel sheets were cosy and comforting and drew me into sleep, even though I'd spent the past two days blissfully unaware of the world.

But then suddenly I snapped awake, my heart hammering. I didn't know if it had been two minutes or two hours, but something had very much startled me from sleep. I rolled out of bed and raised my fists before me...and then realised what had woken me.

A soft, lilting song drifted through the cracked door of the guest room. It had an aching, haunting sound to it, the kind of sound that wanted to burrow itself deep into my bones. I'd never heard anything quite like it, and a strange magic washed over me as I listened.

Was...was that Lugh?

Obviously, I had to find out.

Grabbing a blanket from the closet, I wrapped it around my shoulders and tiptoed into the hallway. The sound was coming from downstairs. From Lugh's quarters. I minced my way down the stairs and paused as I listened. Now that I was closer, I could tell it was a harp. I tiptoed the rest of the way to his door and peeked inside.

In the center of his living room sat a majestic, gold-trimmed harp that glowed in the darkness. Lugh sat before it, his eyes closed. His fingers whistled over the strings, that haunting melody rising majestically into the air.

I watched him, my jaw practically touching the floor. The King of Wraiths was just full of surprises. First, he carried a hobgoblin to safety. Then he played an instrument like this with such soul, such emotion, that it brought tears to my eyes.

Nibbling on my bottom lip, my eyes caught on his biceps, his washboard abs, and his sculpted pecs. Yep, that's right. He wasn't wearing a shirt either, and I was flat-out gawking at him now.

That rumble went through my core again, and this time, it had nothing to do with the Sapphire.

But he had put me in the guest room, and not his own bed, for a reason. What had happened between us in the old burnt-out buildings meant nothing. I had been high, and he had been, too. Hell, he'd even stopped it from going any further than it had.

With one last longing glance in his direction, I back-pedalled to the stairs. I would leave him to it. And instead of bothering him now, I would go take a cold shower.

A very cold shower.

My back slammed into something fleshy. Hands wrapped tight around my arms. Heart leaping into my chest, I screamed and slammed my bare foot up behind me. It landed in my attacker's groin with a solid thunk, and a male voice groaned.

The arms released me.

I whirled, eyes flashing, fists raised before me. The attacker reached behind his back and pulled out twin glinting blades. I could only see his eyes. They were a deep, deep blue. The colour of the darkest part of the ocean.

And then those eyes flicked up, widening as they stared over my shoulder.

I could feel him, even though I couldn't see him. Lugh strode out of his quarters, and an intense, lung-tightening power washed over me.

"You dare come into my quarters," the king rumbled, his voice as hard as steel, "and attack my guest beneath my roof."

The attacker's eyes gave me the impression that he was two seconds away from weeing in his pants.

I took that opportunity to jog back toward Lugh, my feet tripping over the blanket cape I still held tight around my body. Otherwise, the attacker was going to get an eyeful of my thong-covered bum.

A golden glint caught the corner of my eye, and I turned toward the King of Wraiths. He held his spear in his hands. The real spear. The one he kept locked up in a case. The five sharp peaks glowed as he pointed the weapon right at the attacker's gut, and the golden rivets whirled around the shaft.

Holy shit. What the hell was this thing? It was almost like it was... alive .

"Who are you?" Lugh advanced on the attacker. "What do you want with Moira? Who else is working with you?"

"I can't answer any of your questions," the attacker said in a fearful voice. "They'll kill me."

" I'll kill you," Lugh roared .

The enemy charged, his twin daggers slicing through the air. He aimed them right at Lugh's chest, and the pointed tips rippled with the threat of death. My body instinctively moved toward the danger, my arms outstretched to stop the daggers from sinking into Lugh's skin.

But Lugh's arm shot out, and he shoved me back behind him. He grabbed a shield from the wall with such speed that he looked like nothing more than a blur. The daggers slammed into the bronze, and then skittered off, like tiny pebbles against a brick wall.

The attacker's eyes widened as he stumbled back. Lugh advanced on him, growling. With one last frantic glance in my direction, the enemy pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it right at me.

I froze, swallowing hard. It had been a long ass time since I'd seen one of those.

"I'll kill her," the attacker's voice wobbled. "She might have survived the sword, but she won't survive a gunshot."

Lugh made his move. In a terrifyingly split second, the world seemed to shudder against the pull of time. One moment, I swore Lugh stood tall with his shield held before him. I blinked, and then the five-pointed spear rammed deep into the enemy's chest.

Blood painted the floor.

Lugh jerked back his spear, and the body crumpled like a rag doll. I held a hand over my mouth as blood sprayed everywhere. On the floor, on the walls, on my bare feet.

Heart hammering, I glanced away. I'd seen a lot of death. I'd caused some myself. But this was a horrifying taste of brutality.

"Dammit, I didn't want to kill him," Lugh muttered, whirling on his feet and vanishing back into his quarters. I stared after him. Was that...was that it? Was he just going to return to his harp-playing now and pretend that there wasn't a dead body on his floor with blood spatter everywhere?

But he reappeared only seconds later, the spear whisked out of sight. My heart thudded as I watched him lean over the attacker's body. "What is that thing, Lugh?"

He glanced up at me, his eyes hard, but he didn't answer my question.

"Your spear," I pressed. "That's not a normal weapon. What is it? How did it move like that? Why do you keep it locked up all the time?"

He ground his teeth together, and turned his attention back on the attacker. "It is a very long story. One I'm not sure you're ready to hear. And right now..." He reached down and placed trembling fingers on the mask. "We need to see who this is."

He ripped the mask away. The face beneath it was not one I'd seen before, at least that I remembered. He had pale, freckled skin, pale hair that was almost white, and an upturned nose like a ski slope. Lugh let out a heavy sigh, fisted hand braced on the floor.

"Is he one of the wraiths here?" I asked in a soft voice.

"No." He punched up from the floor and shoved his fingers into his hair, locks tangling around his horns. He'd gotten blood on his face, but I decided not to point that out just yet. "He was part of Athaira's lot. One of the few who liked her reign and was angry when I took over here. He left the castle months ago. I didn't expect he'd come back, but I guess I was wrong."

"Ohhh." That made a lot of sense, based on what Saoirse had told me. I still didn't know the full story, but I did know that Athaira had been cruel. If the fae who had actually liked Athaira still held a grudge... "So does this mean we were wrong? That these traitors aren't traitors at all, but more like...usurpers."

"I'm the usurper," he said roughly. "I took the castle from her after I learned of the abuse she rained down on her weaker subjects. These fae want their castle back. And they want Nemain to rule it instead of me."

"But that's kind of good news, right? It means that none of the wraiths here are working against us. It's people who left."

He shook his head. "There will be at least one. Someone is letting them inside the castle, and is feeding them information. For example, they knew you were staying here at the palace, and they knew that I would be playing my harp, which would drown out the sounds of an attack. If I hadn't been paying attention…"

I cocked my head at him. "How would anyone have known you'd be playing the harp?"

"I play it every night at eleven." He gave me a long, scorching look from head to toe. "You're covered in blood. You should take a shower."

I pointed at my face. "You have some blood on your cheek."

His eyes softened, and he strode across the floor. "There's some in your hair as well. Come along. Let's get you clean."

My heart thumped, though the flicker of excitement was quickly doused as I tiptoed across the floor. "What about this...mess?"

"Uisnech will take care of it. He will find good use of the blood."

My footsteps faltered, but his hand quickly found my back, propelling me along. "Do I want to know what a hobgoblin does with blood?"

He let out a low chuckle. "He sells it to vampires. Fae blood is highly potent. And extremely valuable."

Stomach twisting, I frowned. "Is it really a good idea to sell fae blood to vamps? What if they get a hunger for it?"

"They already have a hunger for it, Moira," he said smoothly. "Selling it to them prevents them from trying to take it by force. And none of us here wants a supernatural war in Edinburgh."

Lugh led me to a door at the end of the hallway, opposite from the room that led to his quarters. Inside, an expansive bathroom gleamed before me. A large claw-footed bathtub sat before a floor-to-ceiling row of windows that overlooked the cliffs. To the right, there was a long stretch of sinks, the counters crafted from a charcoal marble. On the opposite side was a shower. The kind with the rainforest shower-head and jets that shot out from the side. The door to the shower was see-through glass, and the cubicle itself could fit at least two people, maybe more.

"Let me take that blanket," he murmured, and I realised I still clutched the soft material tightly around my body. Nervously, I handed it to him.

His eyes darkened. "Don't look so afraid. I won't bite you."

That's a shame.

Lugh leaned past me and flicked on the shower. Hot water poured from the large shower-head. Before I understood what was happening, he'd lifted my shirt over my head. Which meant I was now wearing nothing more than my bra and panties.

His eyes scorched across my body. "Go on. Ladies first."

Heart thudding against my ribs, I stepped under the soothing spray of the water. Lugh began to turn away, seemingly to give me some privacy, but I cleared my throat. He paused.

"You need to shower, too," I said quietly.

His lips twitched, and in an instant, his clothes were a puddle of cloth at his feet. I kept my gaze rooted to the spot, which was the tiny little knob about chest height. I didn't let myself look at him, mostly because I was scared I might turn into a puddle myself.

Was he wearing pants?

My eyes flicked down. Damn them. The traitors. No, he was not wearing pants.

He was very, very naked.

I couldn't take it any longer. Twisting around to face him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and crushed my lips against his. For a moment, I was scared this shower idea of his had been nothing more than a way to get clean, but then a groan seeped from his parted lips.

His hands slipped down my back, splaying across the curves of my bum. With a sharp tug, he pulled me closer, his kiss deepening.

" Excuse me! " a shrill voice echoed through the marbled bathroom. "You have a dead fae lying in your entryway!"

Lugh growled, twisted away, and cracked the door just enough to stick his head around it. Steam billowed around us, obscuring the view, but I'd recognise that voice anywhere. "Uisnech. I told you to wait. I am otherwise occupied. I will be with you in...an hour."

An hour?!

"Yes, you see, but the door to the palace was wide open, and you see...there's a crowd. And they are extremely frightened, my dear king."

Lugh swore. He released me and vanished from the steamy shower. Through the fogged glass, I could see the outline of his shape. One moment, he was the male I'd wrapped my arms around. The next, he was taller, more commanding, just more . He was the King of Wraiths.