Chapter 8

8

A new day and a new mission. I was once again going to talk my way into Lugh's room and rifle through his books. There were answers in the millions of pages he had in there, though I had no idea where to start looking.

But when it came time for our daily assignments, Selma was insistent that King Lugh's quarters did not need cleaning until the next Thursday. It had only been two days, and his head might explode if we stacked his books again already.

Instead, Imogen and I were assigned to tackle the large stretch of garden that backed up onto the western defences. They were high stone battlements that stretched around the castle's edge, looking out over a sheer cliff. Even in January, the grass needed to be clipped and weeds had to be yanked out of the soft ground.

Just behind us were two more buildings that formed a square, earlier residential quarters that were no longer in use. Saoirse had told me in hushed whispers that the buildings had been abandoned since the witch trials. Humans in search of magical culprits had stormed the castle and set the buildings ablaze. Fae had been trapped inside, and no one had wanted to rebuild the place, not even Lugh.

Instead, he'd left the square as it was, as a memorial, and had named it Mag Mell.

I was surprised to learn he was that sensitive.

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked Imogen as I blew a stray strand of hair out of my face. "How'd you end up here in the Court of Wraiths?"

Imogen stiffened, but then kept on pulling weeds. "The king likes to collect strays."

I leaned back on my heels and cocked a brow. "Strays?"

"Yeah, like you. Solitaries." She shook her head and tossed a weed onto the growing pile. "Or runaways, fae fleeing from abuse, criminals, and those with useless gifts."

"Criminals?" I asked, startled, even though I shouldn't have been. Of course Lugh welcomed them into his Court. It was just the kind of thing he'd do. Hell, I was halfway convinced he was engaged in criminal activity himself.

" Former criminals, for the most part," she corrected. "Like me. I was a thief. Humans were mostly my targets, but I stole from fae, too. I even had a wanted poster with my photo on it back in Glasgow. I had to leave to get the heat off me."

"And Lugh gave you a place to stay."

"Me and a bunch of others. I think he believes we can be rehabilitated." She chuckled. "I don't actually agree with him on that, you know? I haven't been able to completely stop. Why do you think I'm part of the cleaning crew? I can't be trusted with something more important, like guarding the castle or taking care of out-of-control vampires in the city."

Wiping the sweat off my brow, I regarded Imogen carefully. This had given me some food for thought, and I didn't know whether it was the good kind of food, like pizza, or the bad, like rotting meat. Lugh took in the unwanted, or at least the fae who felt they weren't wanted. That was kind of sweet. But a bunch of dangerous criminals under one roof had the potential to create a pretty toxic environment. Imogen was only a thief, but what kind of crimes did the others have under their belts?

Were there any murderers? I shuddered.

When we were done, my hands were bright green and in desperate need of a wash. I headed straight back to my room, eager to get back inside for the first time since I'd arrived here. Saoirse caught me along the way, falling into step beside me and looking about five million times more put together than I was.

I had yet to determine what her role here was in the Court of Wraiths. Her gift was a mystery, and there was something different about the magic that pulsed around her. She read as fae to me, but also something else, something I couldn't quite put my finger on...

"How are you settling in?" She nodded toward my hands. "Looks like you've had a busy day."

"Garden duty," I said. "Better than washing dishes but not as good as swinging steel."

"You think any more about what I mentioned yesterday?"

She was referring to her hint about Lugh, no doubt. Truth be told, I'd spent a lot of time thinking about her little puzzle, mostly when I'd been ripping weeds out of the ground. It had been therapeutic in a way. There's nothing quite like destroying things to make your life seem less full of suck. But I hadn't gotten anywhere on her hint.

"No," I admitted, coming to a stop outside my bedroom door. "Can you maybe be less cryptic?"

She thought for a moment. "Maybe. I might be able to give you..."

Saoirse trailed off when I opened my door. My room was trashed.

"Blimey," Saoirse whispered. "Stay here. I'll be back in a mo."

I edged into the room while she vanished down the hallway. Shattered glass covered the ripped rug. The bedsheets had been sliced in half, and the old, sagging mattress had been ripped to shreds. Even some of the floorboards had been pried open to reveal a cold empty darkness below.

Shivering, I took a step toward the hole and peered down. I couldn't see a damn thing. If a Sluagh hand reached up right now...

"Moira?" King Lugh sauntered inside. He took one look around the room and whisked me into his arms. I yelped as he carried me out into the hallway and deposited me into a heap on the floor. Pain lanced through my bum. And then he slammed the door behind him. An unexpected concern flickered across his features.

I blinked up at him, dazed. "Are you serious right now? You can't just yank me into your arms and then throw me onto the floor! I know you're the king of this castle, but I—"

A muffled pfffffft echoed from inside the room. Blue smoke drifted out through the cracks around the door. Lugh reached down, launched me to my feet, and dragged me even further down the hallway. Everyone else who happened to witness Lugh's startled reaction followed suit, rushing away from the mysterious cloud.

"Hmm." Saoirse shot Lugh a frown when we were a safe distance away from the blue smoke. "That I didn't see coming."

I shook my arms until I was free of Lugh's grip. "Is someone going to explain to me what the hell is going on?"

"It seems that someone doesn' t like you," Lugh said dryly, his cocky boredom quickly replacing whatever concern I'd thought I'd seen in his expression.

"No shit," I said with narrowed eyes. "It doesn't take a puff of blue smoke for me to figure that out."

"It's not blue smoke," Saoirse whispered. "It's a sorcerer's potion. I've seen it before. It's supposed to make you..." She cleared her throat. " Pliable ."

I scrunched my eyebrows. "Pliable?"

Lugh coughed, and I could have sworn his sharp cheekbones looked just a tad more on the pink side than they normally did. "It's called Sapphire. Consider it the magical equivalent of the human ecstasy drug, although it seems to heighten libido even more than it does."

"Oh." My own cheeks got hot. "Who the hell would put a magical libido potion in my bedroom?"

Probably not a question I wanted answered, if I were being honest. A secret admirer, trying to catch me unaware? Not that I really thought I had one of those inside the castle. Only a few fae had even bothered to talk to me, much less try to woo me into bed. Or maybe it had been the hobgoblin. This was exactly the type of trick they liked to pull.

"The heightened libido isn't the focus, in this case," Lugh answered. "Whoever left this here only wanted to make you pliable."

"You sound really sure of that."

"This isn't the first time it's happened," Saoirse added. "There's, ah..." And then she clamped her mouth shut.

"We should all leave this hallway before the vapours reach us." Lugh turned to Saoirse, speaking over my head as if I weren't even there. "We'll need to move Moira out of this room and into another. Let's cordon this one off for the foreseeable future. And we'll need to burn the sheets, and her clothes. Otherwise, the magic will be impossible to get rid of."

"Um, hi," I said, raising a single finger. "No burning my clothes, please. I only have a couple extra shirts with me, and I would prefer not to walk around naked."

"You can borrow something of mine for now," Saoirse said. "Let's get you to your new room, and I'll find something for you to wear."

My new room sat on the very top floor, where the heating system had failed months ago. There was a tiny electric radiator in one corner, but it did little to warm the space. Other than that, it was almost exactly the same as the other room. Same bed, similar blankets, and a very threadbare rug that matched.

Saoirse gave me an apologetic smile. "Unfortunately, we don't have any open rooms on the floors below, but I'll see what I can do about finding you somewhere warmer soon."

"I don't mind. Honestly." I stopped her just before she turned to go. "Saoirse, what's the real deal about that smoke bomb? You said it's happened before."

She nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip. "Yeah, and that's why you don't have to worry. It wasn't really aimed at you. Several other fae have been hit with it, including me."

I arched a brow. " You got hit with it?"

"Yeah, I'm close with Lugh, and..." She shook her head. "What I can say out loud is that there are rumours going around that you and Lugh are..." Her cheeks went red as she cleared her throat. "You know. Involved."

Bloody Imogen. We were going to have to have a chat later.

"We're not involved," I said quickly.

"Oh, I know that," Saoirse piped. "But not everyone else will."

Ah. I understood what she meant now. Some of the fae would believe the rumours and think I had some kind of ‘in' with the king. That I would have knowledge or access, and they would be able to get to him through me, because that bomb would make me pliable.

So Saoirse hadn't been wrong when she'd warned me earlier. Not everyone in this castle could be trusted.

That included me.

I t had been a few days since I'd checked in with Clark, and I'd come up with a plan to get some information into her lap. All I needed were a few moments alone outside to find her raven. It would no doubt be searching the skies, waiting for a moment it could approach me.

Luckily, everyone was so distracted by the smoke bomb that they didn't notice me sneaking out of my upstairs room. Saoirse had forgotten to lock it for once. She probably felt sorry for me. A twinge of guilt went through me. I was using her empathy to my advantage, which didn't feel great...well, I'd just have to brush it aside for now.

In my drawer, I'd found another notebook and pen. I wasn't able to write down anything useful, but I'd come up with a system of numbers. Numbers that should mean something to Clark. She might be confused at first, but I was certain she'd figure it out.

I pushed the door open and dashed across the cobblestone courtyard. The raven perched on the tip of the horse statue's long snout. The paper rippled in my fingers. I was glad the bird was out here, waiting for me. It wouldn't take long for someone to notice I'd gone missing.

A dark shadow loomed from behind the statue. Heart constricting, I slowed to a stop, suddenly realising how very alone I was out here. My sword had been stowed away somewhere inside of the castle, out of my reach. If the fae behind the smoke bomb had followed me out here...

When the moonlight splashed onto the lurker's face, I gasped. Lugh stepped out of the shadows, his entire form hidden beneath a long black cloak. He strode toward me, the heavy fabric rustling against the cobblestones.

"I thought I might find you out here, yet I hoped I wouldn't," he said in a low growl.

Unease flickered through me, but I squared my shoulders. "What's the big deal? I'm tired of being locked up in my room, and I want some fresh air."

He narrowed his eyes as his cloak fluttered in the light wind. For a split second, I could see inside the folds. He didn't have a spear. Thank the Morrigan. Not that I actually thought he would use it against me. Now, more than ever, I was convinced he'd been the one in the vaults.

Why had he helped me fight the Sluagh? Who the hell knew. This male was a hard one to figure out. It was clear he didn't want me dead, though. Not yet, at least.

"You were rushing around like you have somewhere to be, not like you wanted a leisurely evening stroll," he pointed out. "What's that in your hand?"

Bollocks. The note for Clark. I crumpled the paper and wound my hands around my back. "I don't know what you mean."

"Give that to me." He closed the space between us and wrapped his arms around my back, digging his fingers into my wrists. A flutter went through my stomach as his body pressed tight against mine. Electrifying magic shot through my veins. I gasped when he kept me close, wrenching my hand toward his eyes.

I still had a fistful of parchment.

"A note. To whom?" Without another word, he nipped at my hand. A tremor went through me at the feel of his mouth on my skin, and instinctively, my grip on the paper loosened. An evil grin stretched across his face, and he took the note from my fingers with his teeth.

"I thought that might work," he murmured.

I swallowed hard, my eyes locked on where his lips pressed against the sheet of paper, like a strange kiss.

Slowly, he stepped back and extracted the note from his mouth. All I could do was watch, eagerly drinking in his every move. There was something so...otherworldly about him. His movements were fluid and strong. Everything about him screamed power and confidence. If this male had a weakness, I certainly couldn't see what it was.

Other than he was an arsehole traitor, of course. Couldn't forget about that...

He frowned as his eyes tripped across the parchment. "What is this? What do these numbers mean?"

I tried to bite back a smile. The blood contract might be a pain in my arse, but at least it had kept him from discovering the truth about why I was here.

"Sizes," I chirped. "Since you had to destroy all my clothes, I wanted to go shopping in town. Unfortunately, a very controlling king caught me on my way."

"You said you wanted fresh air." His eyes narrowed. "And you needed to write down your own sizes in order to buy yourself some clothes?"

"These are Saoirse's sizes," I lied, hoping he wouldn't have a clue about female clothes and the fact she was an entire dress size smaller than I was. "We aren't exactly the same size and the clothes she lent me are a little tight. I thought I'd grab something for her, too. As a thanks. For being the only fae in this castle who seems to give a damn about me."

He let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "I can see we haven't been particularly welcoming to you, have we?"

I barked out a laugh, more from surprise that he'd actually asked than because of the question itself. "Seriously? You forced me to do a dangerous trial, one that could have killed me. You locked me up in a room for hours on end without anyone else to talk to. You practically threw a broom at me instead of letting me train what I'm good at—fighting with my sword. And then someone bombed my room, for who knows what reason. Do you think that's welcoming?"

The words rushed out of me like an avalanche of thoughts, feelings, and emotions. I hadn't meant to speak so plainly. I hadn't even realised how frustrated I was. This was a spying mission, after all. Who cared if these fae wanted to have anything to do with me? Who cared if this false king hated me or not?

I certainly didn't. Not even a little bit.

"I see."

Was that his only response? I crossed my arms and glared at him.

"You need some clothes." He handed me the crumpled parchment. "Only a few shops will be open this late. I'll accompany you down the hill to the Royal Mile."

I got a double dose of relief and frustration. Sure, I was glad he'd bought my story, but I was getting sick and tired of being chaperoned everywhere I went. Plus, I hadn't actually meant to go into town for clothes tonight at all. I wanted to get my note to the raven and return to my snooping duties inside the castle. "Is that really necessary?"

"Yes," he said emphatically. "You will either accept my company into town, or you can go back to your room for the rest of the night. You got your fresh air. Best stay inside where it's safe."

I propped my fists on my hips. Damn him. I didn't actually care about the clothes. Saoirse had lent me enough that could stretch to fit me, and Lugh was right. It was late. The options were pretty limited, especially on the Royal Mile, which was filled with tourist shops. With a heavy sigh, I glanced back at the castle buildings and then toward the looming gate outside of the square. I couldn't bear another long night locked up in a room with nothing but the television to keep me company.

Besides, maybe I could prod him for some information.

"Yeah, alright," I grumbled. "You can come along. Just don't expect to join me in any changing rooms."

He flashed me a wicked grin. "If I wanted to get you naked, I wouldn't need to trap you in a changing room."

My mouth parted; my heart skipped a beat. Where the hell had that come from?

Chuckling, he motioned me toward the gate. "That was a joke, Moira. You always seem so tense, so serious about everything."

I fell into step beside him. "That's pretty rich coming from you. You're like...like the king of being over-serious."

"Oh, we're doing puns now, are we?" He pulled a set of ancient rusted keys from his cloak and unlocked the gate door.

"That a problem?" I snipped. "You can make jokes about getting me naked, but I can't use puns?"

"On the contrary. All jokes are welcome. The Moira , the merrier." He sniggered.

"Oh god. That was terrible." But, somehow, I still found myself laughing .

We pushed through the gates, and I blew hot breath on my hands as Lugh locked up behind us. It was chilly in Edinburgh when the sun vanished from the sky. That ever-present mist cloaked everything, hiding even the gleaming streetlights in the glum.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Lugh asked as we began our descent into the city. "Your accent. It isn't Scottish."

"No," I admitted. "As I'm sure you can tell, I'm English."

Some people were good at putting on accents, but I wasn't. One of the first things I'd decided about this mission was that being as close to me as possible was the best way to make it as a spy. Fewer things to fake. Fewer lies to remember.

He cut his eyes my way. "When did you move to Edinburgh?"

"Oh, about five days ago," I said with a laugh, but I had to check his face for a reaction. Hopefully, my confession wouldn't transform him back into that closed-off, suspicious king he liked to be so often. Somehow, it seemed like I'd broken down at least a section of the wall he had erected between himself and the world. I didn't want him to throw the bricks at my face.

"Ah." He nodded. "So you really did come seeking us out."

"Seeking House Athaira out," I corrected. "I had no idea at all that things had changed."

He considered my words for a moment. "And are you disappointed by what you found instead?"

"I..." Hmph. How was I supposed to answer that? He seemed to be under the strange impression that his Court was some kind of utopia. "Have you already forgotten all that stuff I said? About not feeling welcome?"

"Unfortunately, no," he grunted.

We fell into uncomfortable silence after that. It was impossible to talk to Lugh without one of us winding the other up, or both. He wanted me to love his Court of Wraiths. I wanted him to see how much it sucked arse. We were never going to agree. About anything.

We passed through the wide open space of the Castle Esplanade, where hundreds of sorcerers—and wrongfully-accused innocent humans—had been burned at the stake during the witch trials of the 15 th century. Ancient stone buildings rose on either side of us as the cobblestones returned beneath our feet. The trek down Castle Hill would lead to the shops and pubs, where we would hopefully find something open for business.

The streets were empty and dark. January wasn't a popular time for locals or even tourists, who'd rather stay beside the fire in a pub, downing pints of Guinness to warm the gut. I risked a glance at Lugh when the moonlight slipped through the cracks between two buildings. His outline was fierce, sharply cut, and towering in an otherworldly sort of way. Power pulsed from deep within him with every step he took.

Who was this fae? And why had I never heard of him?

He was blatantly powerful. He commanded respect and inspired confidence from hundreds of fae, some of whom had placed trust in Athaira before him...who was...where exactly? I had so many questions and so few answers. This male beside me had them all. With his head held high and that strength rolling off his toned body...I could see why the Scottish fae wanted to believe he could be king.

"I can tell you want to ask me something," he murmured as we passed by an old church, its steeple disappearing high into the darkness above.

I took a deep breath and decided to broach the one subject I'd been dying to tackle, above all others. "You were in the vaults the night of the trial. And you helped me."

His footsteps faltered, and he almost imperceptibly shot a quick glance over his shoulder. "That's an interesting theory."

"You don't seem at all surprised that someone was down there with me," I countered.

He waved his hand in dismissal, though I saw his jaw clench. "You must have mentioned it to Saoirse. She tells me everything."

"Uh uh." I wagged my finger at him. "She refuses to talk about it. Something about the fact that you can't say anything in the castle without someone else hearing it."

He raked his hand through his hair. "You mustn't repeat this to anyone."

My heart skipped a beat. Was he actually going to open up and give me some answers? I wanted to fist pump the sky.

"Okay," I said eagerly.

"I did help you," he admitted. "Saoirse is part Druid. I asked her to read your future, as I always do before trials. The number of Sluagh in the vaults has...multiplied, without my knowing. If you had gone in there alone, you would not have won your trial."

I came to a sudden stop on the cobblestones. My eyes were wide as I stared at him, and my heart felt as if it had been twisted like a snake. I'd only met one Druid in my life before this. Caer, who had the power to look into the future and dispense prophecies to whomever she pleased.

I'd heard a prophecy from her once before, one I wished I could forget.

And now this...

"So, you're saying I actually would have died?" I whispered. That single word echoed in my ear. Died, died, died . I wanted to block it out, but I couldn't. My death had been on the cards. I'd been so close to the end of my life, and I hadn't even known it.

"Not due to your lack of skill or strength," he quickly countered. "There were far too many in there for one fae to fight alone. I merely took a few out of the equation for you. That was why I instructed you to go to your right. I tackled the tunnels on the left side."

This was too much. I needed to sit down.

"Why the hell didn't you just call off the trial?" I hissed. "Why make me go through with it, if you knew I was going to actually die ?"

He pressed his lips together, and his eyes darkened. "There are things you don't know, things I cannot tell you. Even here, away from ears that always listen. Just know that I could not stop the trial without risking everything."

"Everything?" My fisted hands shook by my sides. "So, I guess my life is okay to risk but not all these other mysterious things you refuse to tell me."

"Moira." He growled and grabbed my shoulder. "You're not listening to me. I was there, in the vaults, to make sure you didn't die. I was never going to let death get anywhere near you. That's why I had Saoirse do the reading. Hate me for keeping secrets, but don't hate me for risking your life, because I never did. And I never would."

My heart trembled as I stared into his inky eyes. "Oh."

He let go of my shoulder and resumed the walk down Castle Hill. The change was so abrupt that I didn't know what to make of it. We'd been arguing, he'd been so fierce in his words, and then he'd just started walking again like nothing at all had happened.

With a deep breath, I followed behind.

He cast a glance over his shoulder. "I don't know if Saoirse warned you, but you shouldn't talk about anything private inside the castle."

"She told me." I picked up the pace to catch up with him. "She also said that your room was the only place where conversations couldn't be overheard."

"That's right." He rubbed at his light-stubbled jaw. "Something Athaira's predecessor put into place around the Royal Palace, but I haven't been able to replicate it anywhere else inside the castle."

I was tempted to prod him for more information about Athaira, but I could tell by the shuttered look on his face that he was done with secret-spilling for the night. Instead, I would have to take a different approach.

"You asked me when I moved to Edinburgh. When did you?"

"I have lived here all my life." There was something in his voice that caught me off guard. A sorrow, one that echoed of deep, long-held pain. It was an easy question and a simple answer, but the way he clipped his words betrayed him. There was more to it than that.

"And you were part of House Athaira...?" I knew I'd asked the wrong question as soon as his shoulders tensed .

"No," he growled. "Enough about me. Tell me about your sword. Where did you get it?"

I gave myself a moment to think as we passed another church and swung a right into Parliament Square, away from the Royal Mile shops. We crossed the square, darkness hugging us close.

I frowned. "Where are we going?"

"Shortcut," he replied, leading us beneath a series of stone archways. "Tell me about your sword."

"A friend gave it to me." I cast a glance around. We'd somehow ended up on a thin close—the Scottish word for alleyway. The cobblestone ground was steep and snaked between the rear of buildings. Bins were stacked up beside back doors, rotting rubbish spilling over the sides. It stank of dead fish. The wrought-iron street-lamps flickered in the dark. An unease whistled through me.

Lugh latched onto my arm and pulled me to the left, toward a flight of stairs that led down into the dark.

"Um," was all I could muster.

"There's a clothing shop down this close that caters specifically to supernaturals," he said briskly. "It shuts in twenty minutes."

His voice held zero room for disagreement, but I didn't like how this night had suddenly taken a turn for the worse. With the King of the Wraiths dragging me down a dark alley and demanding to know more about my sword. A sword that I conspicuously did not have at the moment.

"Honestly, stop. I don't want to go any further into this creepy alley with you." I dug my heels into the cobblestones. "Let go of me now."

He growled and shoved me against the stone wall, pressing his body tightly against mine. My breath hitched. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to my ear and breathed.

"Don't say anything. We're being followed."