Chapter 31 Carwynn
CARWYNN
The die was heavy in my hand, as was the weight that settled in my gut.
I let out a steady breath while searching the faces behind me, hoping someone would spare me from the oncoming humiliation.
Lochlainn wore a shit-eating grin, impatiently thrumming his fingers on a nearby cocktail table.
“Just throw it already!” An eager voice yelled from the crowd.
Shit. This was a bad idea.
I tossed the damn thing.
A sudden flash of violet had me shielding my eyes. It flickered like lightning in a storm cloud, then dissipated.
I eyed the purple, near-black liquid that was handed to me.
For a millisecond I hesitated. But resignation soon took over and I shot it back. It was bitter and absolutely disgusting. I forced my mouth to swallow it down, along with all the fucks I had left to give.
My throat felt like cement. Thick, dense, and grainy. Tightness slowly spread over my skin. The magic at work.
“Well, that’s tough luck.” The bartender offered an apologetic half smile. “Truth or Die! Prior player chooses the question,” he declared.
A few gasps scattered through the audience, putting me on edge.
Die? Wait—as in, literally die?
I whipped my head around to Aine and Breena for confirmation. They both looked as nervous as I was.
Okay, calm down. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Yet, if Lochlainn was in charge, that meant it’d likely be something embarrassing.
God damn it . . .
“Well, well, well. Looks like I have the lucky honors!” A cocky grin turned into something far more cunning than I was comfortable with, as if we were playing a game he’d already rigged.
“Get on with it,” I groaned, pushing a fallen lock back.
“Tell me Carwynn,” Lochlainn paused, eyes tunneling like the barrel of a gun. “Who are your blood-parents?”
My. Heart. Stopped.
This was an atomic blow to my chest.
“I—I” My skin immediately hardened, constricting around my neck uncomfortably. “C-c-can’t . . .”
My protest was smothered by a surge of blistering heat pouring through my veins. Invisible hands squeezed, closing my airway. I instinctively grabbed my throat, trying to fight off the invisible attacker.
“Breathe, Carwynn!” Aine yelled.
Hold out. Fight it! I desperately tried to rally myself.
But my mind was dizzied from alcohol, and I could feel my cheeks changing hues from the lack of air.
Can’t. Breathe.
My heartbeat became lazy.
Thud, thud, thud . . . thud . . . thud . . .
“Stop this!” Breena sounded shouted while moving toward the bartender.
“Just tell us and the spell will break!” Lochlainn assured, but there was a tinge of concern in his tone. His eyes fell to the gold choker on my neck, his choker. He sucked in a breath.
The corners of my vision speckled with static dots as I fell to my knees.
It was killing me. It was really going to fucking kill me.
Be exactly who you were born to be, an ethereal voice implored.
Who was that? Was it me? I—
I couldn’t hold my thoughts. I was on the brink of blacking out.
Okay, I submitted. Death wasn’t worthy enough for my secrets.
The magic sensed my decision and loosened.
My lungs drew in. It was a wheezing, broken sound.
“My father—” I choked on the words. “My father’s identity isn’t confirmed.”
Lochlainn had the audacity to look irritated, casting a side glance at Pogue.
I rubbed at my chest, encouraging my heart to keep beating, knowing my next words might halt it completely.
“My mother—” My eyes fell, refusing to witness the aftermath of my own destruction. “My mother is the murdered Skell Queen,” I rasped.
Shock stormed the room like an avalanche, burying me in its cold depths. A cacophony of whispers and swears echoed through the room.
Fecking fates!
She’s lying! The Hallow Queen died in childbirth!
It’s Luckmagic—you can’t lie!
My fucking stars . . .
“Luck be damned,” Keeffe swore.
“I hope you’re happy with yourself!” Aine snapped at Lochlainn. She took a slight step forward, then stopped, as if it warranted all her self-control not to attack him. “Jackless bastard!”
The cold floor fizzled into a blur. I’d forgotten how to blink, how to look anywhere else but the ground.
A warm hand wrapped around my lifeless wrist, but I remained kneeling, motionless. Leaning back on my ankles, I begrudgingly trailed my eyes up. Pogue leaned over, motioning for me to stand up.
His face was fierce and fuming. But there was a surprising pillowy softness as his eyes landed on mine, along with a shadow of unease.
My arm was guided up. I stood, body now visibly shaking.
What must he think of me . . .
I could feel every eye pinned on me. Even from my own friends around me. Their confusion was thick, palpable. And I could almost taste Breena and Aine’s panic, knowing how much this now-public information put me at risk.
Pogue studied my horrified face in calculation, as if my features were a map to strategize with.
He released me, headed for the bar with determined steps. Without warning, a die was forcefully thrown into the air. It blasted in a firework of green sparks.
The club froze, halted by the sudden glittery interference.
“Punch-Luck!” the bartender yelled, redirecting the on-looker’s attention. “Hit the bullseye—you win! Miss it—you get knocked out!” He handed Pogue a glinting dagger, pointing to a target on the far side of the wall.
What just—? Did he just—?
Dangle anything remotely shiny and they’ll start following it, Aine’s words hung in my mind.
Pogue had distracted them. Ripped their attention away like removing leaches from skin. My skin.
Never thought I’d see the day where I’d be so deeply grateful to him. Even if it was just out of what—sympathy? Pity?
A warm presence blocked my view of Pogue’s impending dagger-throwing.
“Carwynn.” Finley’s large hand cupped my face, looking torn. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
A wave of need warmed my core at his touch. The closeness was making me legless as the Liplock potion swirled to life again. I couldn’t stop looking at that handsome face. And those lips . . . god, I could kiss those lips. I should kiss those lips.
His brows knotted, dragging me out of the intoxicating fog as those warm eyes pummeled me with guilt.
“Fin, I’m so sorry. I—” I closed my eyes briefly, releasing a heavy sigh.
“Believe me, it’s not that I didn’t trust you.
I just—I didn’t ask for this. Any of it.
” I threw out a frustrated hand. “Just existing as my mother’s daughter puts a massive target on my back.
Telling anyone else would likely add a target to theirs too or lead the Skell King to finding me quicker.
” I pressed the base of my hand to my forehead.
“Not that it matters now since I’m pretty sure he’s well aware of my existence after the Dullahan attack. ”
Finley nodded empathetically and then stilled.
“Wait—you think he sent the Dullahan after you?”
I dipped my head in confirmation, watching an ember of realization light his face.
“Shit.” He removed the hand that’d snuck down to my neck and nervously combed it through his hair. “You said your father isn’t confirmed. But wouldn’t he be—”
“No,” I cut him off. “Well, I mean, technically yes—there could be a chance he is. But David was my mom’s best friend. He’s adamant she did everything in her power to make sure he wasn’t my father.”
Finley shook his head. “If he sent the Ancient, if he’s after you—” The veins in his forearms surged underneath the rolled-up sleeves.
An unwelcome voice pierced my ears, joining our conversation.
“I suspected the bony bastard sent it as well,” Lochlainn added smugly.
I immediately lifted my hand, ready to crack it across his face when—a hand shot up, quick as a whip. It locked around my wrist, holding my open palm hostage.
Lochlainn tsked, drawing my attention to the flecks of gold in his eyes.
“Now, now. None of that, love.” He half-smirked, regretfully.
My hand was released. “Look. Truly, I didn’t know.
I suspected the Dullahan wasn’t there for us.
Being an ancient and all—only someone with significant power can summon one, like a ruler.
There was no feckin’ chance Faelad did it, nor did I think your own Da would.
So I put two and two together. Figured it were you he was after.
Just didn’t know why.” His lips pressed together, holding back the unspoken.
“I took a gamble asking ya tonight. Didn’t think I’d actually get any answers.
” An incredulous laugh escaped him. “But, fuck! Talk about unexpected! A princess of Hallow Land. Or is it bastard princess?” Lochlainn cackled.
I hated him. I hated him so much. And right now, he’d never had a more punchable mug. Every smile line, every wrinkle that lifted his ginger beard up in amusement made me want to high-five his face . . . hard.
“Lochlainn,” I said sternly. “With all due disrespect, get fucked.”
“I second that.” Finley gave Lochlainn a look of contempt.
A roar of laughter from the crowd swallowed us whole.
Peering over Finley’s shoulder, I saw a dagger twinkle, clattering to the ground.
He missed.
“So who gets the lucky honors of slugging Pogue here?” the bartender mused.
Drunk cheering erupted, hands shooting skyward.
Lochlainn beamed, raising his arm like a giddy schoolboy.
“I do!” A voice commanded, slicing the air like a blade. I was taken by surprise.
Loose golden curls elegantly swayed as Aine walked up to Pogue, showcasing a devilish grin. She rolled her shoulders three times and then stilled.
The room fell silent, the taste of anticipation thickening on our tongues.
Pogue’s mouth twitched. “You sure about this, Goldie?”
Aine shook out her arms, then got into fighting stance.
“Why? You’d prefer someone with softer hands?” she taunted. “Lucky for you, I have a lot of pent-up energy right now.”
Pogue started to laugh when—
Both of Aine’s hands smacked down on his shoulders, gripping for leverage. Rearing back, she forcefully launched a knee right into his groin.