Graeson, one of the guards posted at the main fire, approached. “The Undine is awake, Mac Eoin.” He dipped his head in a reverent bow.
Shay and Rainn exchanged a glance.
“Perhaps the ilk will have the information we need,” Arden said darkly.
Rainn tsked, waggling a finger. “Cormac already tortured the bugger. Let’s try to do this a bit more gently.”
The Siren's wings outstretched, and Arden launched himself into the sky.
“A conversational master,” Shay added dryly, as the siren's wings glinted in the moonlight.
Somehow, the bastard had woken up without a trace of the ailment affecting the others. Whether it was due to his creed, Shay couldn’t be sure, but he planned to extract as much information as possible from Elaine Cruinn’s spawn before Shay decided what to do with him.
Shay and Rainn made their way back to the meeting tent. The numerous bedrolls on the floor were stained with black blood, kicked into disarray from the fighting. What had once been a sacred space had become a macabre showdown with ravenous Mer.
Liam Cruinn sat on top of the furs, his legs crossed as he cradled a cup of hot tea. His eyelids drooped as he rested, though his body stiffened as they approached.
The Nymph had no patience for making Liam Cruinn squirm. His people had been put at risk once again by Balor, and Shay needed to know if he could expect any more nasty surprises.
“You’re a long way from Cruinn, Undine.” Shay Mac Eoin crossed his arms over his chest.
Liam paled as he looked up, meeting the Nymph's eyes. Shay surmised that the Undine had never seen eyes that changed color so rapidly. Shay knew he sported pale, ice-blue eyes—the color of his rage.
Liam Cruinn cleared his throat and placed his cup on the floor by his bedroll. He knitted his hands together on his lap. “Your hospitality is appreciated.”
“Start talking.” Rainn craned his neck around Shay’s shoulder to glare. “Why did your mammy send a bunch of possessed Mer to our doorstep?”
Liam swallowed deeply, his eyelids fluttered as he struggled to parse the words together. “I was outside of Tarsainn with Elaine, my mother.” He replied without emotion. “She...She boiled the city. I don’t know if she breached the stronghold, but the Fae within the city limits, they—” He clenched his fist, stilling the movement as his body began to tremble. “Illfinn kept me in Tarsainn, after the Frosted Sands. The dungeon, and then the palace. I was a hostage, but I came to know the city. And she—” Liam’s lips pressed together, either to hold back sobs or vomit, Shay couldn’t tell.
“We had bodies. Some living, others not. They came to our shores.” Shay looked down at the Undine. “Those Mer woke up not two days later, with black eyes and a demonic hunger.”
Liam frowned, glancing away in thought. “The lake bed cracked.” He said, more to himself than Shay. “I saw... I don’t know what I saw. Black shadows?”
Shay nodded as if Liam confirmed his suspicions. “Don’t go anywhere.” He warned.
Liam sat up. “Where’s Maeve? And the Mer, Cormac?”
Shay pursed his lips.
“Why did Balor attack Tarsainn?” Rainn parried. “Why were they her first target?”
Liam’s brow furrowed. “Illfinn was meant to check in with her. To inform my mother of your whereabouts and how close you were to fulfilling the bargain with Nuada. But none of her missives were answered.”
“Missives?” Rainn frowned.
“She took one of his scales,” Liam replied. “So that she might find him, through a mirror, or a puddle. It’s a Weaver trick.”
“Cormac isn’t missing any scales.” Shay pointed out. At least, he hadn’t been, the last time he’d seen him—turning to foam in the Dark Sea.
Rainn rubbed his chin in thought. “Scales regrow. Quickly.”
“Balor did not hear from Cormac,” Liam’s dark eyes rounded earnestly. “She took action.”
Of course, Balor hadn’t heard from Cormac. The bastard had turned to foam.
Shay’s hope wore thin. He turned away from the Undine, unable to control his emotions. He sought the bond in his chest, placing his hand over the raised skin of his mate mark. He could feel Maeve, but Cormac was another story.
Cormac Illfinn was his friend, having been so since childhood. Shay had spent summers darting through the halls of Tarsainn while his father was in trade meetings. He’d thrown skimming stones on the shore, watching Cormac attempt to impress the female Nymphs. Though he would never admit to such a thing.
