6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"The future Lord of Sídhetír should expect trickery from both the light and dark fae, for they want the same thing—power." – Lord Louis, Third Lord of Sídhetír.

I stood behind Oren's chair with my arms crossed, listening to the report. Lord Byrne was at the head of the table, with Oren at his right hand and Lady Hester on his left. The rest of the rectangular table was filled with the Byrne brothers.

On a normal visit, they would've returned to their usual pursuits, leaving the manor behind after a few days, but this time, they would remain until Oren chose which court to align with and took the mantle of lord. Thomas and Whit were the only ones married and with children. Remaining longer presented more difficulties for them, but they wanted to stay.

"The Hillridge Farm was destroyed, my lord," Colonel Tarrah Fletcher said, standing at the other end of the table. She was the head of the regiment currently stationed in Sídhetír for the duration of the transition. Fletcher looked minuscule next to the large door and all of the Byrne brothers, but I knew her to be a fierce fighter. A scar sliced down her tan cheek, catching the edge of her full lips, and continued down her chin, giving her a rakish air. Her shorn brown hair assisted in that appearance.

"What happened?" Lord Byrne asked.

"We don't know yet. We received reports of a fire, but when we arrived, everything had burned. Very little is left," she reported.

"What of the people living there?" I asked, ignoring the glance Lord Byrne threw my way. I'd always been allowed to attend meetings with Oren, but Lord Byrne didn't like it when I spoke, though I rarely did.

Captain Fletcher faced me. "Neither I nor my soldiers found anyone or their remains."

"Magic?" I asked.

"We don't know, Mr. Ryan."

Lord Byrne should've known if fae magic was performed on his lands. The human variety of magic was different. It was of this realm and hid among the natural ebbs and flows. Fae magic could not. If the fae remained in the forest, he didn't feel their magic because the land was saturated in fae magic and the trees held it close, maintaining it. On his own lands, though, it should have been easy to sense.

Lord Byrne met my gaze. "The transition of power is already happening. I cannot perceive the land like I once did."

"I didn't feel anything," Oren said.

"You probably won't until the transition completes," Lord Byrne remarked. He rested a hand on his chin and focused on Colonel Fetcher, who'd watched the exchange with a bland expression. "I will survey the damage and see what I can feel. Perhaps the fae representatives will accompany me."

"Very good, Your Lordship," she said with a bow.

Lord Byrne dismissed her, then faced us. "The first wave of trouble."

"Indeed," Thomas said.

According to the stories, attacks became more common during the transition of power because the creatures could wander into the mortal realm with ease. Deals with noble and common fae became usual as well. It was a time that reminded us humans of what it was like prior to the contract—before the tide of bloodshed was stemmed.

"You need to choose, Oren, so we can put this all behind us," Lord Byrne said.

"That is hardly fair, Jonathan," Lady Hester said. "It's been only a few days. This is not a decision he can or should make lightly, as it will affect the rest of his and our lives."

"You don't think I know that?"

My gaze turned to Thomas and Whit as Lord Byrne and Lady Hester glared at one another. They normally got along, except when it came to Oren. Thomas caught my eyes, then looked at Oren, who sat tensely with his hands curled around the arms of his chair. Whit lifted an eyebrow, and Thomas stared at me like he expected me to do something about the situation. What? I didn't know.

I laid a hand on Oren's shoulder. "You don't have to choose until you're ready. No one can force you."

Lady Hester sent me a smile; whereas, Lord Byrne glared at me. It wasn't my place to interfere, but I felt Oren steady beneath my hand.

Oren said, "I will go with you to see Hillridge Farm."

"Good," Lord Byrne said. "Shall we ask if the fae representatives want to go together?"

"Yes," Oren answered. "Thank you."

Lord Byrne looked at each one of his sons and then me. "No one is to go anywhere alone. Thomas and Whitaker, you will come with us to the farm, if that is acceptable, my dear?"

"I'm perfectly fine with that," Lady Hester replied.

"I will take Sevrin and speak to the locals about any fae sightings," Phineas said, and Sevrin nodded.

Nevan spoke for himself and Neil when he said, "We'll patrol the area around the estate, keeping watch for fae."

"Keep your wits sharp, my sons. There may be fae who want the contract to end, and the only way that will happen is through Oren's death."

"That will never happen," Whit said.

I tightened my hold on Oren when a tremor slid down his spine. I wished he could be spared from the fate of being Lord of Sídhetír, but his fate had been written in blood, and only blood would wash it away.

The preparations for heading to Hillridge Farm had commenced. Both of the fae representatives had agreed to go once they heard Oren was going. According to Sevrin, they'd expressed dismay about the destruction of the farm, but he didn't believe them.

I was ambivalent about their responses. Humans mattered little to beings that lived for eons. We were a source of entertainment, profit, and in some cases, sustenance.

It was decided they would go the following morning. While the fae courted Oren for his endorsement, Whit and Sevrin stuck close to him. Thomas and Phineas did the same with me.

A week had passed since Cethin had absconded with me, but none of the Byrnes had forgotten it. They all watched me like they feared I would vanish from beneath their very noses.

Lord Byrne still wished me to remain away from Oren and the fae, even though he'd told the fae of my abduction when he formed a search party for me. I truly believed he wanted to keep me away from Oren, so Oren would be forced to speak. When I was there, Oren retreated behind me like I was a shield. I didn't mind protecting him, but this path was one he had to walk and I couldn't follow him.

Phineas whittled carefully, sitting on the damp grass, heedless of his white trousers or the cold emanating from the ground. His movements were slow and even from years of practice. I'd grown up watching those steady movements. Scrape after scrape, a figure took shape. As a child, I had several toys carved for me by Phineas. They'd been some of my most treasured possessions.

Thomas sat right beside me on the garden bench, arms crossed and head back, as the autumn wind rushed over us, rattling the leaves and flaring his hair. As the eldest of the brothers, Thomas often acted like it was his purpose in life to keep his siblings safe. I often fell into that category.

"Must you guard me?" I asked.

"If we left you alone," Thomas said, "the dark fae might steal you to their realm, and we'd never see you again. We'd never recover from such a loss."

Dramatic, really. All of them were so dramatic. Cethin hadn't even hurt me. All he'd wanted to do was talk.

"You heard Father, Aidan. None of us are to go anywhere alone," Phineas said, carving the delicate curl of a goat's horn.

"He was speaking to you lot, not me."

Thomas scoffed. "He looked directly at you. None of us have been tempting fate. It's like you're asking for the good Lord above to take you."

"Not so," I protested.

"You're stuck with us, so do stop complaining," Phineas said. "We can do something more interesting if you don't wish to laze about. Perhaps we can retire to the library or Father's bookroom?"

I didn't possess much interest in reading. When the weather was fierce, I didn't hate passing the day with a book, especially the tomes of the previous Sídhetír Lords, but when the weather was nice, I preferred to be outside. My hands in the grass. My feet on the land. My heart free of the walls.

My thoughts turned to the burned ruins of Hillridge Farm. I almost saw it in my mind's eye: the barns, the house, the fields. All of it was clear to me, but altered, burned. I didn't know who could have done it.

A cruel thought popped into my head. Perhaps Cethin had done it. He was alive and able. I couldn't say if he had the necessary magic to burn a farm to the ground and corpses to ash, but he was a noble fae. Of that I was sure—he resembled the other Night Court nobles who'd come—so he had to have some power.

Would he answer me if I asked him? He might. Cethin did owe me a debt.

A restlessness built in my legs, making me twitch. I wanted to see the damage for myself. I wanted to see what had become of the land. What about the Hillridges and their young daughter and heir, who wasn't even ten? Nancy's smiling face framed by blonde braids grew in my mind as my heart thrashed against my ribs. I had to see Hillridge Farm, which meant escaping Thomas and Phineas's watchful gazes.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, making me blink. Storm clouds started to form in the north, dark and looming. A crash of lightning struck, and after a few breaths, the grumble of thunder came again.

"Storm," Phineas said.

Thomas glanced at me. "Seems so."

"Perhaps Lord Byrne or Oren is upset?" I offered.

"Perhaps," Thomas said, eyes not leaving my face.

I peered over my shoulder as I snuck toward the secret gate. Thomas and Phineas had been momentarily distracted when one of the fae representatives had wandered through the garden, searching for Oren, who'd disappeared. They'd both moved to block me from Lord Abnus's view, and I'd rushed away without a backward glance. I wasn't worried about Oren. He'd probably curled up in a nook with a book as he tried to hide from everyone and everything.

The gate was perfectly quiet as I snuck out. I hovered near the hedges and kept my eyes peeled for even a hint of a footman, servant, or one of the Byrne brothers, but as I rounded the north side of the estate, I didn't spot anyone. Hurrying, I headed to Hillridge Farm.

My eyes darted continuously between the uneven ground and the surrounding area. I didn't want to twist my ankle in a hole, but neither did I want to come upon a fae. The fields remained blissfully empty, except for a herd of sheep and a few cows.

The acrid stench of char mixed with the stinging feel of something I didn't recognize was the first warning I was close to my destination. My steps slowed and my pulse quickened as I approached the blackened ruins.

A ring of charred buildings stood in the middle of the desolate farm. Burnt support posts stuck up in the air, broken, like bones of the buildings that were once here. The barn, silo, coop, and outbuildings were all destroyed. Burnt and reduced to rubble. The only thing standing was the stone fireplace and chimney from the farmhouse.

Everything else was gone.

Horse hooves and boot prints marred the ground. I didn't know if they were from the attackers or the soldiers who'd come to check on the fire. I scoured the remains, searching for bodies. Hillridge Farm was decent-sized. There should've been several farmhands as well as the family, but there were no bodies. No animals. No humans. Nothing.

"Why, if it isn't Aidan, completely alone. How intriguing."

Tattoo writhing under my sleeve, I turned, unsurprised to see Cethin leaning against the chimney of the destroyed home. His long white hair hung around his lean frame. He was in a black long-sleeved shirt with a plunging neckline, which exposed the tip of his crescent moon tattoo as well as making me gape at the miles of bare skin, and a pair of obscenely tight black trousers tucked into calf-high boots.

Only a week had passed since I'd seen him, but part of me believed I'd fabricated him, even with the tattoo on my arm. He was as otherworldly as I remembered, and, unfortunately, as lovely as I recalled.

"Cethin."

"So you do remember the name I told you."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Cethin pushed off the chimney and stalked in my direction. My spine straightened, and I fought back the urge to take a step back. His predatory movement awakened some deep prey instinct to run.

"It's been a week. You haven't come to see me or called for me."

" Called ?" I asked. He stopped right in front of me, forcing me to look up. "If I said your name, would you appear?"

"Yes, Aidan." Cethin's black eyes burned into me. "I will come if you call for me."

My throat closed and my stomach swooped. Warmth swelled up my spine, at odds with the cool autumn temperature. What the bloody hell was he doing to me? I'd heard stories of fae enthralling humans, but I'd never believed it, because I'd seen no evidence of the like. I also figured if they could enchant humans, why didn't they do it all the time, but then again, what was happening to me?

With a step back, I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind of his light floral fragrance, which evoked an image of moonlight kissing a field of flowers. "Why are you here?"

"Why wouldn't I be here?"

I frowned. "Can you answer my question?"

Cethin smirked, head cocking. "I could, yes." When I continued to frown, he said, "I am here because you are."

I didn't understand why my presence would draw him here, so I remained silent and started walking among the burnt buildings. A sizzlingly hot feeling I couldn't place raised the hairs on my arms and stung my nose like I had a bleed. I rubbed my nose with a handkerchief, but the white fabric came back clean.

"Magic," Cethin said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"That's what's bothering you. Magic burned these buildings."

"You?" I asked.

"Why would I burn human dwellings?"

That was not an answer. "Did you do this?"

"No," he said evenly. "I did not burn these buildings or take these people."

"Do you know who did?"

"No." The black thorny vines of his tattoo on his neck and hands began to glow brighter. "Light fae."

My first instinct was to believe him, but I stalled. He'd merely said light fae. That could mean anything or nothing. "And I should believe you?"

"You do not have to. Why don't you ask whatever-you-call-him in the manor to ask his fae representatives and see what they say?"

"Lord Byrne?"

"You can call him that."

"That's his title."

Cethin shrugged.

As I faced the ruins, my hands curled into fists as impotent rage simmered in my gut. I wanted to do something. I wanted to help, but I didn't know how.

"I wish it was summer," Cethin commented.

"Why?" I asked. Where had that come from?

A smile grew on his lips and his eyes glimmered in mirth. "Then I could see the entirety of your tattoo. I have yet to lay eyes on it."

Laughter spilled out. "It wouldn't matter if it was boiling hot—you still would not see it. The confines of modesty and propriety don't allow me to walk around shirtless."

"Pity. I should like to see it." His eyes drifted over my body in a way that sent heat to my cheeks.

Face on fire, I stared at the ruined farm. "Do you know what became of the Hillridges?"

"Shall we find them?"

"What?"

He held out a hand. "I will help you find them, Aidan."

"Why?"

"Because you want to."