Rian Swiftgait narrowed his eyes. “Which one?”
Tor’s nostrils flared as his body recoiled against the name, though he had to speak it. His guests deserved to be fully informed of the dark waters they might swim in. “Balor.”
Rian’s impassive expression didn’t so much as twitch. He tilted his head, looking down his nose at Tormalugh. Rian’s entire demeanor possessed a knowing smugness Tormalugh could not decide if he liked or not.
“Well?” Tor quirked a brow in challenge. “Have you made your decision, Swiftgait?”
Rian chuffed a laugh and shook his head. “If you have drawn the attention of Balor of the Deep, you’ll need as much help as you’re going to get.”
Chapter Six
Maeve Cruinn
Time in the Tuatha Dé Danann passed like chewing a gristly piece of meat that wouldn’t break.
I traipsed from one end of the lagoon to the other. Pausing only to drink from the water and knead my hungry stomach.
Cormac’s figure on the pristine sand stood out in the distance as he went about his own business. Seemingly unbothered by my rejection.
After all, why would he care that I had denied him?
It was only forfun. He’d said.Something to stave off the boredom.He’d said.
Thinking about his hand on my skin made my teeth creak as I mashed them together. My fists clenched in anger, as if Cormac was in front of me, ready to be throttled.
Once I reached the curve of the lagoon, where the two cliffs faced each other, like cupped hands separating our water from an endless sea, I realized how vast the ocean beyond the lagoon was.
The mists were so thick that it was impossible to see the sky. The water was too choppy to swim or sail.
The forests at the edge of the beach sloped to the sharp point of the cliffs, and though I could see the mists through the gap, I needed a better view.
My feet ached, tiny cuts from rocks and twigs snapping under my steps. My fingers curled, frozen in position as I clawed my way to the very top of the cliff overlooking the lagoon. Its twin was a stone's throw across a sheer and dangerous drop.
Then I heard the screams.
At first, I thought it was the wind, until I saw the reaching hands from the dark water beyond the lagoon.
Had that been Cormac’s fate? I wondered. Lost at sea, drowning and clawing for air.
A punishment for water Fae and land Fae alike.
The sea beyond the lagoon wasn’t water at all, but a landscape of grasping hands. Endless lost souls, their color and life drained, the skin shed and decayed.
My ears throbbed against the sound, a drop of blood rolled down my earlobe, and dried on the side of my neck.
“Maeve,” Cormac said, my name like the toll of a bell, rippling under my skin and making me shiver.
“I’m making a shelter,” I told him, keeping my eyes and hands fixed on my task. I’d seen the storm on the other side of the cliffs. The lagoon may have been paradise, but what lay beyond was not.
“What did you see up there?” Cormac pressed, stepping closer to my back.
My spine grew rigid, and the heavy branch in my hands slid through my fingers. I cursed and let it drop, dancing out of the way so the branch did not fall on my toes.
I licked my lips and tried to find the words to describe the screaming souls.
“There... Is...” My voice died. “Nothing.”
Cormac leaned back, stretching his arms over his head, resting them on the back of his neck. “Nothing, Princess?”
