Chapter 7

7

E yebrows furrowed, I paced from one end of my chilly room to the other. Lugh had a spear, one he was terrified for people to touch. The person who had helped me in the vaults had also wielded a spear. The two could very well be linked.

Lugh could have been the one to help me in the vaults, even if it made no sense at all.

That fact alone would mean bonus points for Lugh. But I'd also just found out that he liked to chop off people's hands.

It had been a few days since I'd last seen him. My little mission to seduce the information out of him wasn't going exactly as planned. I needed to ramp things up a notch and fast, or the cauldron would be in his hands before I even knew what it did.

When the cleaning tasks were being assigned the next day, I quickly stepped in to cover the training room. I'd found nothing of note in Lugh's room, though I hadn't been able to search his drawers or his cupboards yet. Unfortunately, his room wouldn't come back into rotation for another week, so I needed to try a different approach.

"I know a lot about handling and cleaning weapons," I interjected before Selma could even finish listing the options for the day. "I'm happy to take on the training room."

Selma slid her eyes toward Imogen. "How'd she do with the king's room?"

"Fine." Imogen shrugged. "Bit complain-y about the mess, but aren't we all?"

Selma flashed me a wicked grin. "Bet you won't be se eager to clean his room next week, now will you?"

I decided to hide that I was in fact very eager, as I didn't want to raise any suspicion. Knowing her, she was probably far more likely to send me back again if she thought I didn't want to do it. "I didn't know that it would be like that."

Selma snorted. "The king is one of a kind. Very well. You put in the time there. You can have the training room today. Imogen, you'll go with her again."

Imogen didn't complain this time. Instead, she shot me a wink and a thumbs up. My heart raced in excitement. It felt like years since I'd stepped foot inside a training room, even if it had been a week at most. I knew I wouldn't have a chance to train now, but I wanted to walk inside the space, breathe in the scent of it.

And I wanted to see if they had any spears.

We grabbed the cleaning supplies and headed to the training room. I pushed open the door but stopped short when I saw who was inside. Imogen slammed into my back, but the impact didn't nudge me forward. My head felt fuzzy. All the blood in my veins began to boil.

Lugh spun across the blue training mat like a tornado. He had a silver-tipped spear in his hand, and he whirled it sideways like it was an extension of his arm. He jabbed it forward at an invisible foe and roared. The invisible foe stood no chance against a charge like that.

Sweat glistened on his exposed back muscles. His midnight blue curls hung in his hooded eyes. As he continued through his next set of moves, I couldn't do anything other than stare.

"Oh right. I forgot. We need to wait outside," Imogen muttered, grabbing my arm to pull me back.

I pulled out of her grip and stepped further inside the training room. The door slammed shut behind me, booming through the cavernous space.

Lugh's elaborate routine came to a sudden stop. He twisted toward me and scowled.

I held up my bucket. "Sorry. Came here for a clean."

Why the hell was I apologising? I ought to be shouting at him for making me mop up after him in the first place.

"You're meant to check the log books before bursting in here with your mop and bucket." He snapped the spear into its stand against the wall and stalked away from me. "You interrupted my training session."

"A pretty impressive training session at that," I said, following close behind.

He stopped suddenly but kept his glistening, toned back turned my way. "Has my hearing failed me?" As I inched around him, I caught a glimmer in the corner of his eye. "That sounded like a compliment."

"Maybe because it was one." I edged a little closer, coming to a stop when we stood face-to-face. "You're good with a spear."

His lips quirked. "Of course I am. I'm the best in this Court. Perhaps the best fae alive."

Bloody hell, this male was cocky.

Feigning disinterest, I leaned against the wall while I watched him towel the sweat off his body. It was difficult to stay focused, but I had a mission. "Anyone else in the Court good with a spear? I've only ever met sword fighters."

He slowed, towel pausing between the dip in his abs. "Most fae prefer the sword, but I'm curious how you've met so many warriors."

Dammit. Not again. I kept forgetting to downplay my knowledge about the fae .

"There are more solitary fae out there than you think." Was that even true? Didn't matter. All that mattered was convincing Lugh it was true.

"Now that does not surprise me." He dropped the towel into a wicker basket in the corner and grabbed a stainless steel water bottle. As he took a long chug, I couldn't help but notice how a few drips escaped and ran down his chin, and then neck, and then chest...

Ahem.

"You talked about signing in," I tried. "Do you have a weapon's log as well? Something that people have to sign when they take them out of here?"

Lugh stopped chugging and gave me a suspicious glare. "If you're thinking of taking a weapon out of this room, then you are going to be very disappointed."

"Mostly, I'd like my own weapon back, thanks," I snapped.

Narrowing his eyes, Lugh leaned forward and wrapped his hand around the back of my neck. All logical thought fled from my brain. My heart barely worked. A beat here, a beat there. Not that I even noticed. The only thing in the world that existed was his hot as fire touch against my skin.

I swallowed hard.

"You will get your weapon back when I decide that I trust you."

"And when will that be?" I whispered.

His eyes dropped to my lips, and he frowned. "Fate is certainly a strange beast."

My heart skipped another beat. "You're speaking in riddles again."

"I'm not speaking in riddles, and you know it." With that, he dropped his hand and pulled away. "Your cleaning friend is outside, listening to every word we say. I should let you two get on with your job."

Lugh took another chug of his water, and then strode toward the training room doors. Frustrated, I called after him. "Are you the only fae in this castle who fights with a silver-tipped spear? If so, then I have a riddle for you. One that involves the—"

With a growl, he whipped toward me. "Do not question your king."

He ripped open the door to reveal a wide-eyed Imogen creeping in the background. Without a single glance in her direction, he stormed down the hallway and disappeared from view.

Imogen's mouth dropped open. She pointed at the king, and then at me. "You two are..."

"We are nothing," I hissed. I knew how this probably looked to her. Like some kind of lover's quarrel.

"Have you slept with him?" she whispered.

I scoffed. "No. Of course not. I barely even know him. Besides, he's not my type."

My type definitely did not involve cocky arseholes with perfect midnight hair, gorgeous cheekbones, and back muscles that were something straight out of Greek God artwork.

Imogen didn't look convinced, and I didn't want to hear anymore. I grabbed the mop and bucket, and got to work. But the feel of his skin on my neck was much harder to drown out. I could still feel where his fingers had touched me, like they'd left behind an impression, a mark.

I needed to get a grip.

" S aoirse, we need to talk."

My new friend froze halfway through the doorframe. Her purple eyes furtively cast for an answer to my sudden demand, darting from one corner of my room to the next.

"What's happening?" she finally asked, though she made no move to slither further inside.

I flicked my eyes to the hallway behind her. Several fae passed by. A green-haired female slowed to eavesdrop on our conversation. With all the enhanced hearing flying around this place, the only way to have a private conversation was with the door firmly shut.

"Come inside," I insisted. "I don't want anyone listening."

She pondered my request for a moment, but then hurried inside. When the door was finally shut, I spilled out my words. "The night of my trial, there was someone else in the vaults."

She pressed her lips together, crossed the room, and peered out the tiny window at the cliffs below. Nothing about her expression screamed surprise. So, Saoirse already knew. Another point in the Lugh column.

"Are you going to say anything?" I asked.

She turned to face me. "This isn't a conversation that I can have with you. You need to ask the king."

"I tried," I said plaintively. "But he refuses to talk about it."

"Then I'm afraid I can't help you." She let out a tiny sigh, crossed the room again, and peered out the tiny peephole in the door. Then she turned to face me. "Look, all you need to know is that not everyone in this Court can be trusted."

I cocked my head. Well, that was certainly the last direction I'd expected this conversation to take. I'd dragged her in here wanting to know answers about Lugh's spear, and instead we were talking about something else...and I didn't quite understand what that something else was just yet.

I furrowed my brows. "What are you talking about?"

Her purple eyes slid to the door. "It's hard to hide things in a place like this."

"Because of the..." I tapped my ears.

She nodded. "We have protective wards on the doors, but they don't block out everything. "

"Are you trying to say that someone is listening to our conversation right now?" I asked in a harsh whisper.

"Maybe." She shrugged, seeming far more at ease about this whole thing than I felt. Sure, I'd used my own enhanced hearing to my advantage many times before, but suddenly it felt like my every move was being watched. And I didn't like it. "The thing is, we can't know every time someone is listening. So it's best to keep mum."

Mum about the spear. And mum about the vaults.

Suddenly, life in this Court started to make a lot more sense. Everyone had a furtive look about them. No one spoke of things out loud. There were meaningful glances everywhere but never meaningful words. It was hard to imagine why until now. Not everything was sunshine and roses in the Court of Wraiths. There were traitors amongst the traitors, and they didn't know who they were.

"Can we talk somewhere else?" I asked. There was so much I needed to know, and it seemed like Saoirse was willing to tell me—as long as there was no risk we'd be overheard.

"There's only one place in the castle that cannot be breached by fae ears," she said in a low, meaningful voice.

My stomach dropped. "The vaults."

She laughed. "You should see the look on your face. No, I don't mean the vaults, though they'd work in a pinch. I meant The Royal Palace."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I muttered. "What are the odds?"

"No odds. He picked the palace for his living quarters for that very reason, as did all the masters and royals before him." She clenched my arm and lowered her voice. "It's the only place in the castle where he can..."

"Where he can what?" I asked, breathless.

Her eyes flashed with something. I knew she was trying to communicate with me without words, but we still hardly knew each other. I didn't understand what she was trying to say at all.

" Read his books. "