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Finula had told me that Elaine needed to speak with me, but I couldn’t think why. We had no relationship except one forged by proximity.
Perhaps she hoped I would hold the same grief for Irvine as she did.
She would be disappointed if that was the case.
I was startled as I realized Pater and Jon remained patiently by the open doors, waiting for me. As I swam through the doors, I bit back a smile, keeping my lips pressed together in a straight line.
Of all of the creeds of the lake, the Undine favored flashy, gaudy decorations. The more ostentatious the display of wealth, the better. The embellishments embedded in undine skin seemed like an extension of their desire to sparkle.
A row of servants lined the entrance hall, waiting with their hands knitted in front of them, from the fisherman to the algae cleaners, servers, and cooks.
Shay, Rainn, and Tor were led down the line, greeting the staff with an escort I recognized all too well.
Douglas Dougall, my uncle’s closest advisor.
I’d always thought of Douglas as an unpleasant man. His face was set in a pinched expression that never seemed to move. When he spoke, he had a way of staring deep into a person's soul, making them squirm.
Douglas looked young, but that meant nothing to an undine. He could have been a thousand years old; I would never have known.
Douglas turned, squinting as he searched the entrance hall before his eyes fell on mine. His frown deepened, and he turned away, excusing himself.
“Lady Cruinn.” Douglas bowed. The false show of reverence was something new.
“Douglas Dougall.” I bowed back. “Lady Finula told me that I was needed back in Cruinn. I traveled from the nymph village with the princes.”
“King Tormalugh is a King. Is he not?” Douglas sneered. “And Shay Mac Eoin will be chieftain once he marries.”
I shrugged. “If I am not needed, I’ll go to my room. If it’s still there.”
Douglas sniffed, looking down his nose at me. “It’s still there. Though some of the cleaners have been using it as a broom closet.”
Chapter Fourteen
Cormac POV
Cormac Illfinn had not seen Cruinn since the day his father had been beheaded.
He remembered it so clearly that it felt like King Ullurick was at his side as if Cormac was once again a gangly youth desperate for his father’s approval.
He had sent his guards back to Tarsainn, knowing that his arrival without backup would send a message that the Mer-King feared no undine. But as he swam over the bridge, the bejeweled castle appeared from the darkness as if rising from the deep. Every instinct screamed in protest.
Lady Finula had made a compelling case for Cormac’s attendance at Cruinn castle, though the concept of a peace treaty after King Irvine’s death felt shoddily put together at best.
Cormac wasn’t even sure how the Undine king had died. Or how Maeve had lived.
He would have asked his friends, but Rainn, Tormalugh, and even Shay Mac Eoin seemed determined to follow Maeve Cruinn around like pets on a leash.
Thinking of Maeve made Cormac feel vaguely sick.
He had confronted her at the nymph village, but it hadn’t gone as planned. Though his mother’s death was still fresh, he was willing to put aside their issues for peace. After all, Maeve had seemingly moved on from the Frosted Sands.
Cormac did not want to make an enemy of Rainn or Tor. Cormac knew that his mother would be squirming in the Tuatha Dé Danann if she saw him forgo peace for petty squabbles.
They had wronged each other intensely, but Maeve held no position amongst the Undine besides a generic court title. Though her mother had been the most significant queen for several ages, Maeve would not hold the throne. It was known, even on the other side of the lake.
As Cormac swam over the lake, two great hulking undine pushed open the doors to let him inside the castle. He was certain Rainn, Tor, and the others would be on their way if they were coming at all.
The entrance hall was empty, save for the expansive staircase that sat in the middle of the room, and a moment passed and then another before an undine burst through one of the doors to the side, red in the face and panting. His gills fluttered with nerves.
