A War of Three Kings (Dying Lands #2)

38. Keira

Chapter 38

Keira

I sicken myself. For days I try to refuse the food and water they offer me, but I cannot handle the hunger. The headaches and the thirst. The first day, I lasted until the early afternoon before I shoved pastries into my face while tears ran down my cheeks.

Then, I lasted the entirety of the second day, and the smallest trickle of my power returned to me, but I woke in the middle of the night famished and with a burning throat. I promised myself as I ate the tray of cookies they left on my table that I would do better the following day.

Self-control around food has never been a strength for me.

It has been two days since I have eaten anything. I take all the food and toss it down the privy chute before I lose my nerve. The only water I drink is what I save from my bath before getting into it, dismissing my servants when they want to help me wash.

Drop by drop, my power is returning to me as the poison leaves my system. It is a small mercy, given my situation. I don’t know if Finan is angry with me or if he tires of my protests, because I haven’t seen him since the day we wed.

The room spins around me as I sit on one of the velvet recliners, reading the same line in a book, again and again. I need to get out of here, but I don’t know how. These apartments are as secure as a dungeon. Even if I escaped them, the palace is practically in lockdown with the war and me as their prisoner.

A familiar warmth creeps into the edge of my awareness and my heart leaps with joy. It is the sensation of falling into bed after a long day. Of stepping into a steaming bath after being chilled to the bone. It is a loving embrace, one of masculine strength and endurance, of the first tulips poking through snow and apple blossoms budding and opening.

It is the string tied to my heart.

The sensation of Aldrin fused to my soul.

I relax as I sigh into that growing connection. At first, it forms the vaguest notions: love, protectiveness, fear. Then they evolve into half-thoughts. My name being called, the tone longing, then desperate.

Words finally reach my mind, the voice soft. Distant.

Please tell me it isn’t true, Keira.

Aldrin’s voice breaks my heart all over again. So many emotions bleed into it, and I can feel the echo of each one. The pain.

I will kill him if he has touched you. I will kill him regardless.

A sob claws its way up my throat and spills out of me. I am so sorry, I try to say back. Oh gods, Aldrin, I am so sorry. I had no choice. Diarmuid…

I can’t finish the thought. Even the mental image of my brother with a knife at his throat is too much. The thin slice marks across his skin from when he moved too much and the mottled black and blue bruises across his face. The fear in his wide eyes. More sobs shake my body.

I didn’t let him touch me, Aldrin, I send back, but thick shame rolls through me that I am now married to that monster. Somehow, I feel like I have failed Aldrin.

A rage boils into me, heavy and potent and ready to murder. It is a black thing, a wicked beast thrashing at its cage, but it does not belong to me. It is an impression of Aldrin’s emotions, I am sure of it.

None of this is your fault. His voice is little more than a growl.

I almost lose my connection with him at the intensity of his anger.

My soul reaches for him, more and more, until I find that liquid warmth at the edges of my being and grasp it with every bit of my willpower. I need this connection to him. It has never been so strong before.

I can almost feel Aldrin’s hand stroking my hair tenderly. When I close my eyes, his breath brushes my ear as he whispers in it. I am coming for you with an entire army. We are going to free you and put Prince Niall on the throne. Hold tight.

I will, I promise him.

Keira, my heart , he murmurs, you need to eat something.

Pure panic explodes within me. I will lose you, Aldrin. I will be defenseless.

You need your physical strength for what we have planned. Those words drift away, stroking down my very soul and soothing me.

When a platter of roast beef arrives with tendrils of steam curling from it and potatoes and peas swimming in its gravy, I devour the entire thing greedily. My chest constricts from the sheer dread that fills me as the wisps of my magic disappear, along with the steady reassurance of Aldrin’s presence. I struggle for a long time to drag breath in and out of a throat too tight as my heart rages.

It is on the fifth day after the mockery of a wedding that servants stream into my apartment again, bathing me, shaving my body and dressing me in finery befitting a queen. I guess that is what I am now.

This time, I don’t allow them to clothe me in anything with corsets, hoops or frivolous embellishments that don’t allow me to move. If Finan plans to lay a single finger on me, I will fight him off with everything I have. I will kill him before I allow him to take me.

I am shaking by the time the guards funnel into my apartment again, and I don’t truly know if it is from fear or rage. Armed men surround me as I back away from them.

“I demand to know where you are taking me!” I yell.

A guard reaches for me and I hitch up my light silk skirts in a single hand, not caring that I reveal the leggings beneath. I kick him straight in the stomach. The man staggers back a few paces. Another guard grabs at my arm from behind and I elbow him in the face, just as Caitlin taught me.

“I am your queen, and you do not touch me unless I allow it!” My eyes dart between them furiously, waiting for the next to make his move.

I will not be powerless here. These people will not bully me further.

The guards stare at me with confusion. “We have our orders to ensure you’re brought to the great hall,” one says. “Forcefully, if necessary.”

“Well, now you have new orders from your queen.” I put my hands on my hips. “You will not touch me unless permission is granted in advance. You will inform me of where the king has requested my presence.”

Some of the guards gape at me and others cannot hold my eye. I walk through the center of them, forcing the soldiers to scurry after me.

“I assume the king is holding court and wishes me at his side.”

“Yes,” one guard grunts, and I give him a dark look. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Finan has given me some power in this court, and I would be smart to take as much of it as possible.

The great hall hasn’t changed since I last sat on that royal dais with Finan. The guards have brought me to the rear doors, where the king and his family usually make a stately entrance at the beginning of the proceedings.

I peer past the huge, gold-inlaid double doors. Neat rows of pews before the dais seat dozens of people, and a buzz of conversation flows from them. I recognize many of the nobles seated there, wearing courtly silks and brocades, or the formal military uniforms of the king’s generals.

I commit many of those faces to memory, considering which of them could be an ally.

Three thrones sit upon the white marble dais. The largest is of wrought gold and purple velvet, the one King Willard once sat in. Beside it is a second of almost equal size. The one for the heir. Surprise ripples through me. Only Prince Niall could sit in it, but I always thought Finan was too threatened by his younger brother to name him heir.

The last small throne must be my own. There is none for the queen mother, but I hear poor health has kept her in bed.

I don’t register the footsteps approaching from behind until an arm slides around my waist. I elbow whoever has the audacity to touch me, but fast, strong fingers catch me and hold me in place, digging in painfully. I jolt as I turn to Finan, who peers into my face. Our eyes are level and there is a feral gleam in his ice-blue gaze, as though he enjoys any scrap of power he can take over me.

“Not so threatening without your magic, are you?” His thick lips spread into a wide, cruel smile. “You will play the good wife, you will sit beside me while I hold court, and you will keep your pretty mouth shut. Any reservations you have about this marriage, you can tell me about in private. I tire of explaining the consequences of any inconvenient outbursts.”

I am a patient woman. I can play along with his games while I assess the perfect way to destroy him.

I become numb as Finan takes my limp arm and folds it in the crook of his, leading us out through the grand doorway and toward the dais. A herald announces our approach to the room, his small trumpet blowing twice, but the lords gathered don’t stop bickering between themselves.

Astonishment slams into me, widening my eyes. I glance at Finan to gauge his reaction to such aninsult, but he stares at my face with tenderness as he leads me to the queen’s throne.

It makes my stomach turn.

He unfolds my arm from his and kisses my hand before I snatch it away, then motions for me to take the seat.

A huge smile grows on his face as he stops to admire me there, where he has probably imagined me for the entire war. My head spins from the extremes he treats me with. One moment he threatens me and the next he looks at me with adoration.

I don’t know which is more dangerous. Alarm bells ring in my head as my fight-or-flight instinct kicks in, but I cannot do either before this amassed crowd.

We have been seated for mere moments, Niall still nowhere to be seen, when the far doors of the public entrance swing open. Lord Desmond strides through, wearing decorative armor inlaid with elaborate gold patterns.

My breath hitches as he walks straight through the pews of nobles and up the steps of the dais, and takes the throne right next to the king. Every single person in the hall stops talking as his mere presence steals their attention. Finan simply looks at him and nods.

My throat turns dry and my breaths catch in my throat until I have to remind myself to breathe.

I had no idea how far things had deteriorated for the royal family. No wonder Prince Niall came to us for an alliance that betrays his brother. No wonder fear and desperation peeked through the cracks in his courtly mask.

“Shall we speak of the most important matter at hand?” Lord Desmond booms. “The rebellion in the North, which still drags on.”

I whip my head to him, shock rippling through me. The audacity for him to speak first, to direct the proceedings as though he were king himself! It is something King Willard would never have tolerated. Heads would have rolled for lesser offences.

The muttering of the crowd picks up in intensity.

Lord Desmond raises his voice. “They may seem like barbarians restrained to the North, but I guarantee you, they are preparing for a major push forward, all the way to Sunbright City. They will bring their fae monsters with them to wreak havoc upon you good people.”

The crowd’s agitation increases. I search deep within me for my magic and find the tiniest wisp of air available. Perhaps I am developing a tolerance to the poison like Aldrin did. It is enough to collect some of those arguing voices and send them back to my ears alone.

“Of course they are planning an attack,” a man snickers. “I would send an army after my daughter as well.”

“Perhaps they shouldn’t have kidnapped Lord Appleshield’s daughter,” a countess murmurs.

“Forced her to marry!” another all but yells.

I drop those threads of air, a sudden chill running down my spine. The nobility may grumble, but not one of them lifted a finger to help me.

Lord Desmond casts a dark look across the crowd and their voices fade away. “This is a threat of the gravest kind to this kingdom. You all know who they march under.”

“Enough of this talk of war!” King Finan abruptly stands from his chair, his face red and contoured with rage. I wait for him to chide Lord Desmond for overstepping, but he never does. “I have already declared that the war with the North is over, now that my bride has returned to me. The Northern lords will lick their wounds, do their duty and execute their fae trespassers. They have no use for them now. I’m sure they will also return my brother to me. I will NOT hear of the North again.”

My heart hammers as the anticipation crashes through me like a tidal wave. This is it. Prince Niall has finally declared himself king. This is how Aldrin and my father will save me. They are coming with their army. He asked me to hold tight, but it is the hardest thing to do.

Lord Desmond rolls his head and speaks as though to a child. “You must face the reality that your brother has?—”

“Niall has not betrayed me. He would not dare.” Finan points at Lord Desmond. “He is merely a hostage, and a poor one at that. They will return him when they learn as much, dead or alive. He is NOT making a bid for my throne.”

I almost want to cry for the fool.

To pity him for his stupidity.

How can a person be so blind?

A heavy silence hangs over the entire hall. I resist the urge to shuffle in my seat.

“Have you forgotten that you claimed that this rebellion is a mask for a fae invasion? That our oldest enemy wants to enslave Strathia once more?” Lord Desmond grinds out, his knuckles turning white where they grip the armrests of the throne he has no right to sit upon.

Finan waves a hand at him, as though to dismiss it all, and sits back down. He clicks at a servant and is immediately brought a golden chalice of wine, taking a deep swig.

“I want to know why the royal family kept us in the dark for centuries about the truth of the fae and the Great War!” A middle-aged man stands in the center of the front pew. He has dark gray hair oiled and combed back from a long face, and a white beard that contrasts with the deep olive tone of his skin.

I immediately place him as Lord Tiernay. His lands are to the south of the capital, and he has remained neutral in this war. He is surely powerful and wealthy enough to dictate his own fate.

“You are going to believe some old books that have mysteriously appeared over the collective memory of our people?” Lord Desmond snarls.

The intimidation tactic doesn’t work. Lord Tiernay’s back straightens. “Those magical signatures cannot be faked or manipulated. The Living Memory Scrolls are authentic. I had my druid adviser check them thoroughly, and I am not the only one to have done so. I would like to ask the Mother of Magic Keira where these texts came from and if there are truly more out there.”

I open my mouth to answer, Finan be damned. If I can win these lords over here and now, it could save years or decades of work. It could truly end this war.

Finan tosses his heavy goblet straight at the noble’s head, crimson wine spilling in an arc through the air. A bodyguard reaches a long arm in front of the flinching lord, holding out a small shield. The goblet smacks into it, clattering to the ground, followed by the splattering of wine.

“She is no Mother of Magic!” the mad king screams.“She is your queen, and you will address her as such!”

The nobles hardly react. I wonder if this display is commonplace for them. I scan the crowd closely and note the discreet bodyguards in fine clothing accompanying their patrons.

“Very well. My apologies,” Lord Tiernay says smoothly, wiping droplets of wine from his face with a handkerchief. “I would like to ask Queen Keira?—”

“The queen will not be addressed during these sessions,” Finan snaps.

“Those texts—” I begin, but Finan responds inhumanly fast, leaping from his throne and suddenly appearing behind mine, a hand wrapped over my mouth and the other digging into the tender flesh of my throat hard enough that tears spring to my eyes.

“Say another fucking word and I will have the guards strip you bare and tie you to my bed, then I will do everything and anything I want to you,” he growls, just loud enough for me to hear. “I will end this session and have them do it now. Say. One. More. Word. It will be my pleasure.”

My vision blurs and the voices around us rise and fall in volume unnaturally. I shake as true fear blooms in the pit of my stomach. He will do it. He wants an excuse.

“Nothing to say?” Finan whispers. “I find myself disappointed.” He lets me go and saunters back to his seat, like he didn’t just threaten me with rape.

When my gaze returns to the crowd, there are too many eyes on me, instead of Lord Desmond, who is speaking. I finally register his words.

“We are getting off track here. We need to crush this war in the North with an iron fist. To utterly destroy what fae are already in Strathia, before they summon reinforcements. We could have entire fae armies flooding this kingdom.” He bangs his fist against the arm of his throne.

“I am finding it rather difficult to keep up, Lord Desmond.” An elderly countess stands in the pews. The Lady Endeara. “I thought we already had entire fae armies in Strathia. Which are we to believe? We do talk to each other.” She spreads her arms out to indicate the nobility around her. “And there have been a few official royal narratives. They are so very different from the accounts of the priestesses. I am interested in hearing of the fae trade they speak of. I would ask the queen if she didn’t have her voice taken away on pain of her pretty brother’s death.”

Lord Desmond glares her down, his teeth audibly grinding. Murmurs rise around her, and I collect them with my air wields.

“The Northern lords will be rolling in wealth if they are the only ones to do trade with the fae.”

“It is an unfair division of opportunity. We also have portals to the Otherworld.”

These people are definitely interested in fae trade. I have to hold in the manic laughter that wants to boil out of me at the irony.My nerves are a mess.

“There will be no trade with the fae!” Lord Desmond growls. “Are we truly naive enough to trust them again? Have you not questioned whether the tales in the scrolls and books you have seen were not skewed? Perhaps there were hundreds of accounts of fae kidnappings and enslavements of our people, but they only had the priestesses distribute those that set them in a favorable light.”

“That is a lot of texts to be skewed,” Lord Tiernay calls out over the rising complaints from the crowd.

“And why would the priestesses work with the fae, if it were against the best interests of Strathia?” Lady Endeara calls back.

“I don’t know. Perhaps the fae have kidnapped many of their number and extorted them with violence. We are getting off topic again.” Lord Desmond waves a hand to dismiss her.

“The only priestess I have witnessed being kidnapped and extorted with violence is the one sitting on that throne before us. I want to hear from the Mother of Magic Keira.” An angry scowl twists Lady Endeara’s aged features. I remember that her daughter is a priestess.

I stare straight into the countess’ eyes as I nod discreetly at the accusation. It is everything I can do to keep my mouth shut.

“The next person to refer to my wife as a priestess will be hanged!” Finan explodes. He whips his head around to me, bringing his face so close our noses almost touch. “If you even think of answering that, I will have your brother beaten within an inch of his life.”

Lord Desmond stands before the crowd of nobility, each one of them on their feet and yelling over the top of each other. His hands are raised in the air as he tries to calm the room, promising no one will be executed.

Finan turns his attention to the chaos and actually smiles. He leans back in his seat, crosses an ankle over the opposite knee and takes in the scene with amusement. He clicks at a servant to bring him more wine, like all of this is for his personal entertainment.

My eyes lock with Lady Endeara’s. “Are the fae kidnapping women?” she yells over the crowd at me. “Are they stealing consorts?”

I make sure Finan isn’t looking at me, then pull my wisps of air tightly around myself and whisper into them, hiding my lips behind a hand. Some risks are worth taking. “The fae are true allies, working under the command of the Lord Protector. They came to this realm peacefully to negotiate a trade agreement. No women have been harmed.”

I send that tendril right into her ear, and her eyes widen. She immediately moves through the crowd and whispers in Lord Tiernay’s ear. His eyes flick up to mine.

“Where did you find the scrolls? Are they biased?” he says in a low voice, but one I collect easily with my breeze and carry back to my ears alone.

“Prince Niall personally led us to the king’s secret collection of authentic fae histories. I joined the expedition myself. We took almost everything, and shared it all with the South. They were not misrepresentations.”

As I send those words back at him, Finan catches the tail end of my lips moving. Icy claws of terror rake down my spine and sudden images of being strapped to his bed, utterly helpless, flash within my mind.

He narrows his eyes on me. “What are you muttering about?”

I take the small lace fan out of my pocket and wave it before my face, turning wide, innocent eyes on Finan. I look at him with true fear, tears threatening. I don’t have to force them.

He waves a hand aggressively. “You can talk to me. I meant my threat, but only if you talk to them.”

“I find all this confrontation upsetting.” My voice is small and high-pitched, and it is enough to make his features soften.“I have to remind myself to breathe.”

“Not much longer. Sit back and let them rip each other apart.” He motions for his chalice of wine to be filled again.

“Why should we ally with you in a war of your creation?” a young lord yells at Lord Desmond. From the sigil on his doublet, he resides over one of the island provinces. “King Finan has already lost half his army and many of the provinces are already in full revolt, declaring for Niall as king. Then there are whispers of slaughter at priestesses’ sanctuaries, right around the time Queen Keira arrived in the palace, clearly against her will.”

“If there are deaths among the priestesses, I guarantee you it will be at the hands of the fae, in the northern locations.” Lord Desmond stalks to the young noble just in front of the dais and towers over him, the platform amplifying their height differences.

“Then why has the sanctuary in Sunbright City been locked down, with royal guards on all the gates? Why have its priestesses disappeared from the city when the people need them?” The man doesn’t let up, a blotchy flush creeping up his neck. “My sister is one of the priestesses living there! I can’t reach her.”

Lord Desmond glowers at him, a snarl twisting his lips. I wonder if he is considering having the noble killed.

He shoots a dark look back at Finan before replying. “The site and its portals are a strategic weakness. The priestesses within it were relocated.”

So many nobles yell out demands and questions that Lord Desmond can hardly keep up with the onslaught. Finan lounges in his seat, drinking wine and watching the show. Perhaps he believes they will tear down Lord Desmond, but won’t dare touch him because he is the king.

“We will recess this session,” Lord Desmond yells. A servant somewhere behind me blows short notes on their trumpet. “Many of you have concerns, and they may be more suitable for private sessions with myself and the king.”

The nobles funnel out of the great hall, and it is like a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Surely Finan’s threat no longer stands.

The only one among their number to remain is the druid Murdoc, a lone island in a churning sea of bodies. His cold, calculating eyes remain trained on me, and I wonder how much of my whisperings he noticed from the crowd, when I did not see him.

Lord Desmond watches the nobles leave with a deep frown upon his features, fists clenching and unclenching, like he is fighting an internal battle to restrain himself from outright violence. He turns slowly and casts me a glance of disappointment.It takes everything I have to keep my spine straight and not cower when I am so vulnerable here.

“How dare they show such insolence toward my queen!” Finan explodes, leaping out of his chair and beginning to pace. “I should have punished them publicly. I should have?—”

“You should have left her with her family and temple!” Lord Desmond roars, stalking toward Finan and pointing at me. “Her family must be marching on us by this point.”

The king’s eyes narrow on him, but it is another voice that calls out.

“Must be? Lord Desmond, have you lost the enemy’s army?” Murdoc climbs onto the dais. “Surely it is easy to keep track of such a large force, if they are south of Fort Blackrock.”

“You have lost track of the enemy?” Finan growls, like it is not his responsibility.

Lord Desmond glances between the two men. A muscle ticks in his jaw. “I believe they are using the priestesses’ portals to move their army into position.” Those lethal eyes turn on me. “Is that possible?”

I shrug. “What would I know? I’m just a silly girl enchanted by the fae.”

“Those fucking meddling priestesses!” Finan’s nostrils flare and he tosses his chalice, which bounces across the marble dais with a series of dull thuds. “We should burn all the sanctuaries to the ground. We should show those women their places in this kingdom.”

There is a pause as Lord Desmond and Murdoc exchange a glance.

“Keep your voice down,” Lord Desmond snaps at Finan. “Anyone could hear you here. You have lost a lot of support from the nobility because they suspect foul play at the Sunbright City sanctuary. Imagine what will happen if they learn the truth! There will be riots in the streets. Worse than we have already witnessed in this war. You never should have brought soldiers in to desecrate such sacred places.”

Finan’s features drop. His lips part and sorrow fills his eyes. “I had to get her back. I had to know she was safe.”

The breath whooshes out of me. “I was safe. And happy.”

Finan doesn’t even look at me. “Do you see the enchantment that fae put on her?”

Murdoc gives me a long look while the other two bicker, then he strides to the side of my throne and leans down to whisper in my ear, “Let me help you.”

Lord Desmond suddenly throws us a scrutinizing glance. “The portals,” he says. “Can an army be moved through them?”

The king’s druid lets out a long-suffering breath. “Such a thing is not possible. The portals would overload from extended use and be destroyed. If they traveled slowly enough to avoid damaging them, it would take months. Some of the fae have cloaking magic. Perhaps that is what they are using to mask the army. Regardless, Edmund’s forces are months away.” Murdoc’s eyes flick to mine. We both know that every single word was a lie.

“And the portals in the library are definitely broken?” Lord Desmond asks.

Murdoc raises both his hands. “As I have said multiple times, yes, they are broken.”

“I will put guards on them anyway.” Lord Desmond walks away.

Finan’s eyes roam over my body and face hungrily as he holds out a hand to me. “Keira, I would like you to dine with me tonight.”

Cold dread pumps into my body as I scramble out of my chair.“I didn’t say a word!” I dart away from him as he tries to reach for me. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me if I didn’t say a word to the nobles!” My heart almost stammers to a stop at the realization that he made no such promise.

I dart around the chair, but Finan is faster. He catches me and crushes me against his chest, so my fists pounding against him have no true force. “I shouldn’t have threatened you. I didn’t mean it,” he grunts out, and I do not believe a single word.

My head strikes his jaw and I almost escape his embrace, but he grabs me around the waist and lifts me from the ground as my legs kick out wildly.

“You are my wife. You will dine with me and you will eventually come to my bed of your own free will.”

If I can leverage myself in his arms, I could kick him in the groin and he would drop me. I could run…but run where?

Murdoc steps before our display and gives me a significant look. “My king, if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to work on breaking those fae enchantments on Keira before you start…entertaining her without your guards present. They have put a spell on her to attack you against her will.”

Finan dumps me on the ground at the suggestion, and I dart away from him, but come up short as Lord Desmond blocks my escape with a grimace.

“You can truly do that?” Finan’s eager voice rings out behind me, and I whirl back to the druid.

“I can, though the process may take several days. Maybe a week. It is best if she remains undisturbed during that time.”

Finan agrees, then dismisses us both by turning his back on us and talking to Lord Desmond.

Murdoc walks beside me as my guards escort me back to my rooms. I keep sending him sidelong glances, but I don’t speak. I want to know what game he is playing. Almost as soon as we leave the great hall, another druid falls in line behind us, carrying a parcel wrapped in fabric, a deep hood covering their features.

When we enter my apartments and the guards leave, I stalk over to Murdoc, rage boiling through me. “How dare you? How dare you marry me to that man and now act like you are an ally again?”

Murdoc holds up a single finger and beckons over the other druid, who pulls his hood down. Dark orange curls run down to his shoulders and his eyes are the palest blue. There is a scattering of freckles across his nose that makes him look younger than I am, perhaps only twenty. There is something familiar about him, but I can’t put my finger on it. I hardly take notice of him.

Murdoc cocks his head to the side. “I never got the chance to give you my wedding present.”

Anger rears up so hard and fast, I want to shake him. “I don’t want any gods-damned wedding presents!”

With quick motions, he flicks open the folds of fabric around the parcel in the other man’s hands to reveal a box. Within are a teapot, a set of decorative teacups with saucers, and multiple parcels of herbs.

“A tea set?” I say flatly.

“It is the tea itself that would be of more interest to you,” Murdoc ventures, the hint of a smile on his lips. “It has amazing properties that can counter the effects of poisons. The kind that might take away a woman’s power and make her helpless.”

Relief washes over me, so strong that my legs almost go out from under me. I take a step closer to the tea set. “Are you telling me I will get my magic back? I could open the portals in the library and return home.”

Murdoc shakes his head. “It will take a good month for you to recover that much of your magic, especially while the king is still poisoning you. What I offer here is a chance for you to be empowered again. To use your magic in clever, discreet ways, like you did to communicate with the nobility in the great hall. You could glamour yourself so you could walk freely in the palace and perhaps visit some of those leaders in their private quarters for a frank conversation. Like this man beside me. Are you sure you do not recognize him?”

I frown at the younger druid, stepping closer as Murdoc takes the tea set from him. I examine the long face and high cheekbones, thick eyebrows and narrow lips.

This man could almost be—but no, the nose is the wrong shape. Then he smiles at me and those eyes light up, his whole face creasing with the huge grin.

I laugh, though it sounds like a sob, and throw my arms around him. “Diarmuid?”

He tightens the embrace. “It took you long enough.”

I pull back from him. “This is a very convincing glamour, but won’t they notice you are missing from your rooms?”

He shakes his head. “Another druid has kindly taken my place, also glamoured.”

I turn to Murdoc. “Thank you,” I breathe.

He gives the slightest nod.

“There’s something else you need to know.” Diarmuid’s grin widens, and pure excitement grows across his features. “You are an aunt to a beautiful baby girl.”

I actually squeal, bouncing on the spot. “Caitlin had her baby! What did she call her? Are they both well?”

He laughs. “The baby’s name is Morgana. I am told they are both well. That the fae healer was indispensable.”

Murdoc taps his foot loudly and we both turn to him. “We have urgent matters at hand and little time. I am in communication with King Niall. They are coming, but there are things we need to do to pave the way for them. It is a good thing I now have an excuse to see you regularly.”

Murdoc has the guards call for hot water so we can make tea, then we sit at my table and get to work. Suddenly, I no longer feel like a vulnerable prisoner. Like a scared little girl.

And I know how I am going to get out of here.