“Whatever for?” She lifted the glass to her lips and eyed me over the rim. “Nuada is a god of the Tuatha Dé Danann. If she wanted to leave, she could have.”
“What did I take?” I asked, changing the subject.
Balor’s smile, which had been a fixed feature until that moment, dissolved instantly. “You know what you took.” She snarled.
No one moved.
Balor looked around, as if breaking from a trance. She waved her hands delicately. “Eat!” She encouraged, the smile fraught but back on her face. “You’re my guests! Later, when you sit on the throne, all will be made right.”
Liam cleared his throat. “Mother.”
Balor blinked and turned to his son, as if just realizing he was there. “Yes?”
“You should release the Kelpie. As a test of good faith.” Liam jerked his chin toward me, gesturing with his brows.
Balor clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
I’m unprepared. I realized. I have no weapon. Nor do I have the means to make one.
Brígid had told me about Balor. The giant. How Lugh had held him down and thrust a blade in his eye. A blade of iron and a god's blood. My hands shook, and the yawning sorrow in my bones grew. Hopeless. I glanced up, feeling the press of magic against my skin, twisting my emotions. I hadn’t realized that Balor was capable of such a thing, but my feelings were not my own.
Balor sat, sipping her wine as if nothing was wrong.
“Mother?” Liam repeated.
Balor hummed, rolling her head from one side to the other.
I met Cormac’s eyes and knew he felt the same as I did. We’d forgone any sort of plan so that we could rescue Tormalugh—and any hope of killing Balor was drifting away by the second.
Balor sighed. “Fine.” She clucked. “I’ll go and get the prisoners. As a show of good faith.” She flashed Liam an affectionate look as she stood and walked out of the room without looking back.
We all exhaled a sigh, bodies falling forward as if we had been tied to the chair.
Rainn stood up, brushing his hands over his clothing, gagging as if he could see the magic that had held up.
Liam held his hand out. “Pass me the iron, Illfinn.” He snapped.
“How about ‘Feck off’, Cruinn?” The Mer rolled his eyes.
“We’ve got no time, and you need my help,” Liam replied, jerking his open palm expectantly. “Please.”
The word was no joke to a Sídhe. It was a debt.
“I cannot tell a lie.” Liam pleaded. “Give me your iron, before she returns.”
“What are you going to do?” I demanded.
“I always wanted to be a Troid Sídhe,” Liam smiled sadly, gripping the iron in his bleeding hands. The blood turned blackas it dispersed like ink in the water. “Before she became Balor, my mother was a Weaver. Perhaps it is my destiny to weave a weapon that can kill her.”
Cormac sighed, pulling the filthy bag from around his neck, holding it out across the table. Liam snatched the bag and stuffed it in his pocket.
Liam Cruinn and I had been friends since we were younglings. He had grown up with me in Cruinn. One of my only friends, through the horrid whispers of the Esteemed Court.
“The blade doesn’t matter.” Liam clutched his hand to his chest. “Even with the weapon, it must be wielded by someone of Balor’s blood.”
“Elaine Cruinn is your mother,” I argued.
“But Balor birthed me. It was my mother’s body she wore, but Balor nursed me.” Liam shook his head. “I don’t know if I am strong enough, but I have to try. I cannot watch her boil more innocent fae. I cannot watch her bring those creatures into our world.”
