21. Finnian

TWENTY-ONE

FINNIAN

The sun is low enough on the western horizon that it’s barely visible above the Vegas skyline. Vibrant hues of orange, red, and gold highlighted by the neon of The Strip’s signage paint the sky casting a warm glow over the buildings of the iconic skyline. The mountains in the distance look even more majestic than usual as the sun descends behind them. When it sinks behind the buildings in another ten minutes or so, that’s when we think we’re supposed to find the next clue.

Emphasis on think .

“I wonder why the timing of sundown matters if we’re inside,” Taryn says as we approach the street entrance of the Venetian’s Palazzo hotel and casino.

“I’m guessing because there are huge skylights that allow plenty of light into the space.”

She nods thoughtfully. “That makes me even more sure that this is the place we need to be.”

“Let’s hope so, or we’ve lost an entire day.”

We pored over the clue again today, hoping to come up with ideas on what the rest of it could mean, but we didn’t get any further than we did last night. Hopefully things will be clearer once we’re inside the Waterfall Atrium.

I grab the large gold handle of one of the doors featuring ornate geometric patterns and hold it open for her. Then she does the same for me at the next set of doors. Instead of grabbing it above her head and insisting she enter first like I normally would, I thank her and take her free hand as I pass, pulling her along with me. That earns me a smile that lights me up inside.

I know Taryn is used to being catered to, but I don’t think she enjoys it the way most people in high society do. I’m the same way. I’d rather do something myself than have anyone do it for me. Consequently, I also enjoy doing things for those I care about.

But I get the feeling there’s a fine line with what Taryn is comfortable with me doing for her, so I’m paying attention and following her lead. That told me she’s good with my chivalry as long as I’m good with hers. And I am.

The Palazzo was designed for modern opulence with a nod toward Italian architecture. We enter the casino on ornate marble floors, and circle around a fragrant indoor garden surrounded by Renaissance-style columns and arches that sit below an intricately detailed domed skylight. As we get closer to the casino floor, the cacophony of voices blends with the clinking of chips, the clattering of dice, and the ringing of slot machines to create a symphony that is inherent to Sin City.

Finally, we reach the atrium with the sound of cascading water flowing over a towering wall and into a shallow pool adorned with lush greenery and vibrant orchids. The space is bathed in the natural light filtering through a glass ceiling high above, illuminating the intricate mosaics on the floor and the elegant stone sculptures nestled among tropical plants. And in front of the waterfall is the gigantic, red metal sculpture that says LOVE.

I check the time. “About fifteen minutes until we lose the light and have to wait another twenty-four hours to try again. Whatever we’re doing, we need to do it fast.”

“Great, no pressure or anything,” she says wryly. “Okay, we have the first part of the first line and now we’re looking for ‘two reveal where secrets fade.’ So I’m guessing we need to find two of something in, on, or around the waterfall.”

“Sounds like a plan. Shield glamours up and let’s get to it.”

Walking around the waterfall, we analyze it from every angle possible. We investigate the flowers, the planters, and the sculptures of chubby cherubs. We even go up to the second floor where the waterfall starts, flowing across an expanse of tiles before plummeting over the edge. But we don’t find two of anything that’s keeping faded secrets.

Back at the bottom, I’m acutely aware of the sun sinking lower with the way the bottom of the orange glow is getting higher on the curtain of water.

“We’re running out of time, Finn.”

“I know.” I mutter a curse and shove a hand through my hair. Desperate enough to try anything, I close my eyes and focus on the image of the elder male I saw in my vision yesterday, praying to Rhiannon it’ll provoke another one of him placing the second clue. But the more I want it to happen, the more my mind feels like a black void of nothingness. “Godsdamn it, this is?—”

“Wait! Do you see that?”

My eyes snap open. “What?”

She lifts both arms and points to two spots on either side of the waterfall. “Those shadows in the bordering marble,” she says excitedly. “They weren’t there a second ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

I step into the shallow pool, heedless of the fact that my shoes are now soaked through, and the bottoms of my jeans are quickly taking on water. Reaching up, I run my fingers over one of the shallow half-moon shadow that’s about as wide as a fifty-cent piece. “There’s a divot. That’s why we needed to be here at sundown. We couldn’t see it until the angle of the sun passed a certain point.”

“Genius,” she says. “Now what?”

I examine the area, looking for anything that might move or shift. The Palazzo is less than twenty years old, making the construction and materials new enough that they haven’t started to break down yet. The surface of the pale green marble is smooth with the exception of the shallow divot that’s less than the depth of my fingertip. Even the best rock climbers in the world would have a hard time gripping onto something this?—

The stone shifts under my finger as it completed my thought about the rock climber hanging without me realizing it. It feels like a depressed button, and as I hold it down, a two-inch circle above it slides back about half an inch, then clicks into place as it catches on some kind of internal mechanism.

“There’s one,” I say and slosh my way over to the other side and do the same thing. “And two.” But when the second circle clicks and holds, the other one is released and becomes flush in its original position again. “Shit.”

“Keep your finger on that one.” Taryn hops into the pool and presses down on the small ledge, but nothing happens. She has to speak loud to be heard over the thousands of gallons of water rushing between us. “Maybe we need to push them at the same time. Can you reset yours?”

I press it again and it resets. The waterfall spans about three of my wingspans across. If this works, it’s another instance that proves I wouldn’t have been able to do this alone.

When I give her a nod that I’m ready, she says, “On the count of three. One, two, three .”

We push our buttons simultaneously, and this time both circles click and lock into place. I keep my eyes trained on the waterfall as I take a few steps back, afraid I’ll miss whatever it is we’re looking for next.

“Finn, the tiles behind the water. Are they turning translucent or am I just projecting what I want to happen?”

“If you are then so am I.”

The colored tiles in the center haven’t disappeared entirely, but they’ve taken on the appearance of something like a hologram; there but not there. It’s a rectangular opening above the standing water in the pool of maybe four feet high by two feet wide.

We move in closer for a better look, the mist and random droplets from the falling water dotting our faces. A few of her curls are clinging to her cheeks, compelling me to tuck them behind her ear as another excuse to touch her.

“This is it! The next part of the clue,” she says excitedly. “Past the veil of waters bright. We need to go through it.”

“I guess we’ll just have to hope it’s only a dark room and not a black hole.” Gesturing toward the suspicious entrance, I tease, “Age before beauty, as they say.”

She narrows her cat-like eyes at me, then switches to a devious grin. “Don’t worry, little princeling. I’m happy to go first and protect you from the Big Bad Whatever that’s lurking in there.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to look stern despite the smile fighting for dominance. “We agreed you wouldn’t call me that anymore.”

“We agreed I wouldn’t call you ‘little Darkling.’ Very different.”

Chuckling, I give up the hardass routine and hook an arm around her waist to draw her against me. Thankful for the shielding glamour, my other hand frames the side of her face, and I kiss her with all the passion of a male going off to battle. Just because I can.

Eventually, I force myself to break the kiss when I’d much rather see how well our shields work and lay her down in the water right where we stand. Taking advantage of the seconds it takes her to get her bearings from our kiss, I step through the curtain of water and holographic tiles into the pitch black.

Taryn immediately follows, not even giving me time to extend a hand to help her through. “That kiss was a trick.”

“Not a trick, solnyshka . It was genuine need for your smart mouth with a bonus effect of avoiding your argument against my inner Neanderthal’s need to protect you from potential harm. Very different,” I say, echoing her earlier rationale. I know she’s not really miffed when I hear the half-hearted scoff. “Now, where do you suppose Grandmother Moira hid the light switch?”

A purple flame the size of a torch appears above her open palm, illuminating the passageway and casting dancing shadows on us in all our soaked-to-the-bone glory. Taryn’s curls are much longer, weighed down from the water, their tips brushing the upper swells of her breasts above the low neckline of her black top. Her matching cotton shorts are plastered to her thighs, but with her favorite Birkenstock sandals and half the amount of wet material on her body, she’s a lot better off than me in my boots, jeans, and T-shirt.

“That’s a handy party trick,” I say, nodding to her flame as I try to rub the water out of my hair.

Taryn gives me a droll look. “So help me Brigid, Verran, if you start calling me something ridiculous like Switch, I will shave off your eyebrows while you sleep.”

A hearty laugh bursts from my chest. Lacing my fingers with the ones on her free hand, I carefully lead us farther into the passageway. “Don’t worry, Switch is something I’d never call you.”

“And why is that?”

I stop to pull her in again, making every excuse I can to touch her. Dipping my head, I speak into the pointed shell of her ear. “Because in my world, a switch is someone who enjoys both dominating and submitting. And last night you submitted to me so beautifully, so completely , I can’t imagine you wanting it any other way. Am I wrong, little sun?”

There’s an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Then a whispered, “I don’t want it any other way. Not with you.”

“Good.” I press a kiss to her forehead, then the tip of her nose. “Come on.”

We reach a stone staircase that goes down and curves to the left. The air grows cooler as we descend, carrying the earthy scent of the packed earth surrounding us. Layered tapestries of sand, gravel, and clay with veins of hardened caliche are etched with faint cracks and mineral stains from rare desert rains. It’s a testament to the construction for how resilient the tunnel is after all this time.

When we reach the bottom of the stairs, the passageway doubles back in the direction we came from, only one story below. Its narrow confines give way to an arched doorway that opens into a chamber roughly the size of an average dining room. The faint sound of water reaches us through the packed earth above our heads.

“We must be underneath the waterfall now,” I say as we enter the room.

Taryn makes a purple flame appear in her other hand, then pushes her hands out in front of her. Balls of fire soar through the air and attach themselves to the wall like sconces. She does it twice more for the side walls until the space is well-lit.

And so is the giant, black sarcophagus in the center of the chamber.

“Wow,” Taryn says, her tone the soft reverence warranted when one comes across an eternal resting place.

Crafted of dark, glistening obsidian, the rectangular tomb is an artistic masterpiece. I study the details as I walk around it slowly, trailing my hand over the smooth surface.

On the lid, intricate silver inlays form the sketch of a sleeping male with broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and powerful legs. His hair is shoulder-length, and the lower half of his face is hidden by a full beard. He’s depicted wearing tailored formalwear for the royal court, and the Midnight Crown sits upon his head.

“The sovereign sleeps devoid of light. Sovereign. Finn, is this…?”

A myriad of emotions form a knot in my throat. I can feel her looking up at me, but I can’t seem to take my eyes from the obsidian coffin. “Yeah,” I finally manage. “It’s my dad.”

“You didn’t know he was here?”

Scrubbing a hand over my mouth, I expel a heavy breath and shake my head. “A year into the Palazzo’s construction, the curse that causes our early deaths started affecting his mind. The closer he got to the end, the more erratic his thoughts became, especially in reference to his death. He kept insisting he didn’t want a traditional death pyre; that he wanted to be buried like the humans of his new homeland.

“He was obsessed with this hotel, too. One day he wanted to be buried under the canals, the next he’d say inside a canal bridge, under a sculpture, inside a casino wall. None of us took him seriously, though, because he wasn’t in his right mind. And when he died, he was burned in order to return to Mag Mell, as is custom.”

“Then maybe this isn’t him. Maybe it’s just symbolic, representing the part of him who was proud of the legacy he built here for his people.”

“Maybe.” I don’t know what else to say. This quest has taken a turn from strange to bizarre and unsettling. “What’s the last part of the clue?” We both have it memorized. I’m asking as more of a distraction than anything.

“With the treasure will be three, unlocked for thee with destiny’s key.” She looks around the room, which is completely bare apart from the sarcophagus. “I’m not seeing a treasure anywhere. Is it possible someone already got to it?”

“I suppose anything is possible. The people who worked on this during the hotel’s construction would’ve known how to get in here, and who knows how many people they told.”

Taryn gathers her hair in front of one shoulder and squeezes the excess water onto the ground. “Don’t you think your grandmother would’ve prevented that somehow, though? It doesn’t make sense to set a clue up for something that could easily be accessed by dozens of people.”

Sighing in frustration, I lace my fingers behind my neck and stare at the ceiling. “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

“Maybe this is the treasure. A beloved father and king could certainly be described that way. So maybe there’s three of something in this design that we need to find.”

I look down at the silver depiction of my father with a fresh eye. “That’s a good idea. It could be a code of some kind that leads to whatever the destiny’s key is.”

“Or maybe a hidden compartment holding the key.”

For what feels like forever, we study and prod every last inch of the sarcophagus’s top and sides. We don’t find anything in threes or any hidden compartments.

“Finn. There’s only one place left to look.”

Bracing my hands on the lid, I hang my head between my shoulders and blow out a breath. “I know.”

Her voice is soothing, her tone empathetic and sweet. “I can do it alone. You don’t have to do this part if you don’t want to.”

Standing up straight, I face her and brush a soft kiss on her lips. Her presence is a comforting anchor and a well of strength in this moment of eerie uncertainty. Something tells me I could do just about anything as long as she was by my side. “I appreciate that, but I’m good. Give me a hand with it.”

Together, we slide the lid open a few inches until we can get a grip on the stone slab, then lift it completely off and set it on its side to lean against the base. Steeling myself for whatever I find, I take my first look inside the tomb intended for my father.

Taryn stands next to me and rests her head on my arm in silent support as we stare down at the contents. The interior is lined in a plush, black velvet, designed to cushion the skeletal remains of its owner, as though physical comfort is a concern after death. But my father’s bones aren’t what’s resting inside. It’s his ashes.

My heart tightens at the layer of silvery ashes lining the bottom, the last remnants of a fae king; the last remnants of my father.

I wonder if my mother or maybe Seamus arranged to have his ashes buried down here. If so, I can understand why they might not tell anyone about it. Fae believe the vessel must be burned and the ashes allowed to be carried in the wind and returned to the earth. Burying them like this would cause our people to worry about their king’s place in Mag Mell.

“I guess no one got to the treasure, after all,” Taryn says, referencing the other item inside. Sitting amidst the ashes is an ornate silver box decorated with obsidian stones.

I glance at Taryn, and in her eyes, I see a reflection of my own awe and solemnity. Carefully, I reach down and lift the box from its resting place, surprised at the weight until I notice the slight rainbow shimmer to the metal.

“It’s made out of Luna, so it had to be made before we were exiled,” I say, studying it. Holding something that once existed in the Faerie realm hits me with a pang of nostalgia as I imagine there’s an invisible thread that’s able to connect me to my homeland from touch alone.

“It’s beautiful,” she says. “Do you recognize it?”

I shake my head. “I’ve never seen it before. Guessing this is where ‘destiny’s key’ comes in, but we still don’t know what that is.”

Earlier today, we searched through all of my digital archives on fae history, folklore, the stories of our gods, and random tabloid stories that popped up over the years. But we couldn’t find any mention of destiny’s key.

“That might be a moot point,” she says as I turn the box to study all the sides. “I don’t see a place where any key could go, do you?”

I sigh. “No, there’s no keyhole or holes of any kind. Maybe it’s a metaphor. Is there a fae spell or a song, a chant? Anything like that it could be referring to?”

“Not that I can think of, but that doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist. Maybe when we meet with Barwyn, he’ll know something. For now, we should take this back to the penthouse with us.”

“Agreed. I’ll call Connor on our way back and find out if he set up the meeting. Hold this for me while I put the lid back on.”

As soon as she takes hold of it, the pendant of her Armas lifts into the air and snaps itself onto the front under the lip of the cover. There’s a soft snick , then the Armas falls off as though whatever pulled it there to begin with is no longer activated.

We stare at each other in stunned silence. I know our thoughts are both racing along the same path, but neither of us is confident enough to say them out loud. Because if her Armas was designed to play a part in this quest, that means so was she. And my grandmother called it out in plain words. The only question is whether she was referring to this quest being my destiny…or Taryn.

I clear my throat and say, “I suppose we can open it now instead of waiting.”

She glances down at the box and nods slowly, as though coming out of a trance. “I suppose we can.”

I quickly replace the slab of obsidian to reseal my father’s ashes, making a mental note to question my mother about it at a later date. Then Taryn places the silver box on top, and I lift the lid on its hinges.

“Oh wow,” she whispers. “That’s not what I expected.”

That makes two of us , I think as the lump in my throat returns, bigger than before. Because my father’s riches that are nestled in navy blue velvet aren’t expensive jewels or gold coins. They’re gifts from his sons.

I pick up the slender, elegantly crafted dagger with a jeweled hilt. “Dad gave this to Caiden as a gift the day he was officially named the heir apparent. Caiden wore it on his hip every day. Then, at the end, when Dad was bed-ridden and near the end, he admitted that he was scared of death. So Caiden put his dagger in our father’s hands and told him he’d be fine as long as he had that dagger, and it worked, it gave him peace of mind.”

I set it back inside and trade it for the king chess piece, its polished black surface catching the light. There’s a small tag tied onto it with my father’s handwriting. “It says Tiernan gave this to him after winning his first tournament. That’s as good as any trophy since Tier never applied himself at anything other than chess and general debauchery until he met Fiona.”

She chuckles. “I look forward to meeting your brothers and their mates someday.”

Warmth spreads in my chest at the thought of introducing her to my family. “You’ll like them, they’re good people.”

“I’m sure I will. What’s this?” She picks up a carved wooden stag, the lines were crude and details sparse, but the surface was smooth and the shape good enough to tell what it was.

“I carved that as a winter solstice gift for him when I was fourteen. That red spot on its back is from when I cut myself working on it. It was my first and last attempt at whittling.”

“It must have meant a lot to him,” she says, offering it to me.

I run my fingers over the surface, feeling the grain of the wood and remembering the nights I painstakingly worked on it. “I didn’t even know he still had it.”

“I know you said he didn’t have much time for you when you were younger, but he obviously loved you and your brothers very much if these are the things he treasured most. That’s something, at least.”

She’s right. These items, seemingly small and insignificant, are cherished memories that my father kept close to his heart. Placing the stag back in the box, I feel closer to my father now more than I ever have.

“There’s only one problem.” I realize the same thing as she says it. “There’s nothing else in here.”

“Unless it has a false bottom. My mother has a jewelry box like that. You just have to find— There.” I pinch the small velvet tab that blends in with the lining and lift it up to reveal an identical glass vial to the one we found at the Bellagio.

“Bless baby Brigid, we did it!” Taryn grabs my face and plants a loud smack on my mouth that makes me laugh. Her excitement is contagious and helps to shake off the heavier emotions from a minute ago. I arrange all my father’s treasures back in the box and close the lid as Taryn uncorks the vial and slides the rolled-up parchment into her palm. “It’s still pretty early. Maybe we can find the final location tonight yet.”

“Thanks for finding that for me.”

Startled, we whip around to find the exit to the chamber blocked by the last person we want to see.

The godsdamned King of the Light Fae.