Lochlan knew Brea was gone the moment he woke. It was like he felt it in his soul.
Everything in him screamed to race after her, knowing she couldn’t have gotten far, but she’d made this choice. Who was he to unmake it?
Lochlan tore through his room under the guise of preparing for his journey. Really, he just wanted to throw things. A teacup shattered against the wall, sending a spray of tiny glass shards cascading down the stone.
Someone knocked on his door, but he couldn’t see anyone, not until he got his emotions under control. At least it was daylight so his magic couldn’t spin out of control.
“Lochlan O’Shea.” The voice reverberated around the room, and he closed his eyes, knowing that tone all too well.
“She’s gone, Tierney.” Everyone knew Tierney as the sweet foil to the harder Faolan, but Lochlan knew better. Growing up, she’d been the one punishing him and Alona for their constant schemes while her wife was embroiled in affairs of the kingdom.
Both the Eldurian women loved him like their own son, but it was Tierney who raised him.
“Loch, we’ve heard reports of crashes coming from this room. The guards are afraid to enter.” Her eyes drifted around the disheveled room. “Hmm… Whatever has happened cannot warrant a tantrum on the morning you leave for Iskalt.”
“I’m not throwing a tantrum,” he grumbled.
“Aren’t you?” One eyebrow raised, she approached him and reached her slender arms out to pull him into a hug just as she’d done a thousand times over the years.
He let her hold him only a moment before pulling away. Not only had Brea left on the eve of their departure, she hadn’t told her mothers, the two women who’d be crushed by her willingness to disappear into Regan’s household once more.
“Now,” Tierney said calmly. “Tell me what has ruffled the feathers of the inscrutable Iskalt king.” She’d always called him the king instead of simply a prince despite the fact that he didn’t wear the crown.
“Brea.” Call him a coward, but he couldn’t meet her eyes as he told her the news. “She has left for Fargelsi.”
Tierney stepped back, her face impassive as she took in the news. She sucked in a breath and turned to the door. “Guard, please inform the queen she is needed in the throne room and then fetch Finnegan Donovan. He will have had something to do with this.”
Lochlan didn’t know how she could be so calm when he’d just told her Brea was on her way to the enemy.
“Get mad,” he said. “Come on, Tierney. I know this calm facade is only for show. I’ve seen your temper. Throw something. Curse the human world that made Brea so self-righteous.”
Tierney turned back toward him. “You have done enough of that for the both of us, wouldn’t you say? Now, I must walk to the throne room to tell my wife another daughter of ours will soon be in the hands of her enemy. I know you, and I know her. One of the three of us must keep our heads. Come. You have a lot of explaining to do, boy.”
Lochlan took in the mess he’d made, knowing it would be cleaned by the time he returned. And then, when the sun rose directly over Eldur, he’d lead his makeshift army away from the only home he could remember in any detail.
Brea leaving didn’t change his duty to his people.
Faolan paced the length of the throne room when they arrived, tears already staining her cheeks.
She knew.
When she saw them, she rushed forward. “Where is my daughter?”
###
Lochlan let them yell at him, he let Faolan rant. He deserved it, after all.
“When a messenger from a foreign queen comes to this palace, Lochlan, no one sees them before me.” Faolan was practically growling now. “How dare you make decisions about my kingdom, my daughter.”
“She deserved—”
Faolan cut him off. “That isn’t for you to decide! The Iskalt throne might rightfully be yours, but I am the Queen of Eldur. My word in this palace must be obeyed.” Her lips formed a sneer. “She never should have seen that message or had that choice before her.”
Lochlan couldn’t take this any longer. He’d never known Faolan to be particularly kind, but this went too far, even for her. “You would have me lie to your daughter?” As much as he hated the choice she’d made, he never questioned if showing Brea the message was the right thing to do.
“Yes!” Faolan’s screech grated on his nerves. “We are fae, Lochlan. I don’t care if we aren’t the tricksters of Fargelsi, lies are still currency here. We aren’t ruled by human morality. Maybe you’ve spent too much time in the human world or trapped in those human books over the years.”
A throat cleared from the doorway, and a young guard stepped in. “Your Majesty.” He bowed.
“What is it?” she snapped.
“Finnegan Donovan could not be found. His room is empty, and no one has seen him yet this morning.”
Lochlan closed his eyes for a brief moment, knowing exactly where his best friend had gone. “He took Brea to Fargelsi.”
Tierney looked to the guard. “You can go. Please inform the militia generals to prepare their men for departure.” It was an order Lochlan should have given, but as he stood in his stand-off with Faolan, he couldn’t think of his next moves.
The guard left them alone once again.
“Finn.” Faolan cursed. “That boy has always been trouble.”
“Trouble,” Lochlan scoffed. “Was he trouble when he helped save Brea from the Vatlands all those months ago? Or when he saved my life along the Fargelsi border? What about when he rode by my side to investigate the village in Iskalt—something you were against.”
He pictured Brea traveling the swampy Vatlands with all number of creatures keeping her company, not to mention the mud pits. “She’s going to live because of Finn.” It didn’t make the betrayal sting any less. Would Brea have stayed if she didn’t have someone to lead her on the treacherous journey? Not likely.
“Watch what you say next, young man.” Faolan’s face held a storm Lochlan no longer cared if he unleashed. If she had her way, he’d be no better than Griff was to Brea, a lying, conniving fae—not unlike those in the human storybooks.
“I won’t let you turn me in to her enemy.” He didn’t agree with her choice and wouldn’t get past the betrayal any time soon, but he would always choose Brea’s side.
“She wanted this.” Faolan’s ranting started to make less and less sense. “To return to Regan.”
“What are you talking about?” Lochlan burned with anger.
“Faolan.” Tierney put a hand on her back, and the queen instantly relaxed. “Brea did what she thought right.”
“Yes, Yes.” Faolan covered her face in her hands, her back shaking. “I know.” She sniffed. “I’m sorry.”
Lochlan couldn’t remember ever seeing Faolan cry. If Finn were here, he’d hug the queen, despite it being wildly inappropriate for a mere soldier. He wouldn’t have cared.
How was Lochlan supposed to ride to reclaim his kingdom without the two people who got him to this point? He wouldn’t have the courage without Finn or the army and the inspiration without Brea.
“I couldn’t protect either of them,” Faolan cried as her wife rubbed her back.
Lochlan glanced from the queen to the door. The only thing that would fill the Brea-sized hole in his chest was looking out on the men and women volunteering to ride into Iskalt.
Tierney’s glassy eyes met his, and she nodded, giving him permission to leave. There’d be no regal goodbyes, no tearful moments for him.
When he stepped into the hall, a voice called him back. “Lochlan.” Faolan ran after him. “Go with the best wishes of Eldur. But come back to us. Please.”
He couldn’t promise his return, so he dipped into a bow. It wasn’t out of obligation; it never had been. A king didn’t bow to other royals. But she’d taken him in when he had nothing. There were few people he loved or respected as much as Faolan and Tierney Cahill.
Clearing his throat, he turned and walked away from the throne room and the people in it.
He reached the armory where a servant met him with the bag he’d left in his rooms. If he succeeded, they may never be his rooms again. And if he failed, they might still not belong to him.
After all, dead men needed no beds.
He refused to stop fighting for his people while there was breath in his lungs.
In that way, he understood Brea’s sacrifice. To her, Myles was her world, just like Iskalt was his.
He strapped a sword belt around his waist and drew the sword, peering at his reflection in the gleaming blade. The man staring back at him wasn’t the boy who’d come to Eldur as a ward of the crown, an orphan kid whose own brother would grow to hate him.
No, the hard eyes meeting his were those of someone who had nothing left to lose.
He slid the blade into its scabbard and wrapped his fingers around the smooth wood of his bow. Slinging a quiver of arrows over one shoulder, he left to meet his soldiers.
Some gathered in the courtyard just inside the gates. Others congregated in the streets between the palace and the stables.
Master Arturo himself brought Lochlan’s horse forward and held him steady as Lochlan mounted the great warbeast. He’d always thought the world looked different from atop a horse, smaller somehow.
And with a sword at one’s waist, it became a crueler place.
Maybe Faolan was right. Being cruel was in a fae’s nature, lying a part of who they were.
He’d told Brea the truth, and it might get her killed—if she were lucky.
Finn knew the truth and had betrayed Lochlan for it.
It was time for him to erase silly human notions and give in to what he’d always been meant to be.
An ice king.