Page 28 of Immortal Game

“Oh, that?” Ciara seemed a little surprised. “I suppose that was unkind of me. Midir cannot seem to hold on to a thing he loves. He has made enemies of friends and kinsmen by choosing the wrong sides in arguments. He was married twice before, neither of which ended well for him. Not to mention, none of his children have survived.”

“Jesus,” Shea muttered.

“As I told you before, he has suffered. Much of it is his own doing.” Ciara frowned. “He has a habit of placing his trust inthe wrong people—and in his own infallibility. There is a reason they call him Midir the Proud.”

So that was why he kept Aideen hidden. He was afraid of losing her. Well, she looked forward to giving him another lost love to mourn.

Shea lifted their bound wrists. “And what is this thing?”

“I don’t know,” Ciara said warily. “I am not sure yet what sort of enchantment he’s wrought, but I can sense that it’s a strong bit of spellwork.”

“Great.” One way or another, she supposed they’d find out. “We better not be stuck like this. If I can’t wash this mud off in the next hour, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Fear not. I’m sure I can free us.” Ciara didn’t sound as confident as Shea would have liked. “I’ll have a look when we’re back at the castle.”

Screams pierced the air, and Shea’s blood ran cold.

She turned to see that the next pair—two faerie grandmasters—had dropped to their knees in front of Midir. Vines sprouted from their fetters and began to engulf them, like a spider wrapping its prey. Midir only watched with cold detachment. It took Shea a moment to notice the baskets at his feet. Each was tipped on its side, only half full of berries.

Dear God.He’d kill them all for the smallest infractions. Her fingers dug into her own fetter. She imagined those vines burrowing into her skin and—

“Come along now,” Ciara said brusquely. She gave a sharp tug on their tether and all but dragged Shea away. “You have seen enough, I think.”

Shea could do nothing but stumble after her. Through her haze, resentment and gratitude both pricked at her. She did notneed to be protected. And yet, it’d been so long since anyone bothered to try. They did not speak again until they arrived at Shea’s bedroom door.

“You look pale,” said Ciara, with dismay more than concern. “Are you going to be sick?”

“I’m fine.” Shea pressed her fingers into her temple. “I’m just… I don’t know. I thought grandmasters were honored members of the court. Why would he…?”

“We are.” Ciara’s expression was grave. “But as representatives of Tír nAill in the mortal realm, we are held to a higher standard than most courtiers.”

“So why aren’t you?”

“I am his sister—and a grandmaster of world caliber,” Ciara replied guardedly. “I test the limits of his forbearance.”

Shea’s thoughts swirled with questions, but she was far too exhausted to press the matter further. She reached for the doorknob. “Right. Well, let’s get this off.”

Ciara’s nostrils flared. “Hold a moment. Something is wrong.”

“What are you talking about?” The moment Shea touched the cool metal handle, a charge passed into her skin and a chill prickled along the back of her neck.

Slowly, she pushed open the door. The smell of low tide wafted out: sulfur and salt and things left out to die on the rocks. She curled her lip and pulled the collar of her shirt over her nose.

“Whatisthat?” Shea asked.

“The smell of sorcery,” Ciara said darkly.

“Sorcery?”

Ciara stepped through the threshold. Shea had no choicebut to follow her, dragged along by the vines binding them. The sconce by the door guttered to life. Eerie green light traced the shape of the furniture, and golden motes drifted through the air. It felt like standing in the middle of a haunted grove. All the shadows were long. All the branches holding this room in its grip were sharp and sinister.

Shea’s gaze landed on a chessboard that had been left on her vanity. The pieces were not on their home squares as they were supposed to be. Despite her unease, she drew closer to study the position. Instantly, it was familiar. This was her game from last night, frozen in the final move. And burned into the board itself were two words, crackling with malice.

DROP OUT.

CHAPTER TEN

“Well,” said Ciara. “This is quite a predicament you’ve landed yourself in.”