Page 14 of Where Broken Wings Fly

“They should be–”

“Why are–”

An assortment of shouting was carried across every inch of the castle, until one voice more powerful and ruthless than the rest silenced them all with one word.

“Enough.”

Prince Raegan had been capable of silencing Shea, Niamh, and Killian with a similar motion, but that was not his voice. Drawing up the only logical conclusion, I decided that perhaps it was their King.

“Apologies, Your Majesty. It’s just that they need to be dealt with. We must hunt them down.”

The King let out a guttural noise. “We will do no such thing. Pixie blood has not been spilled by our own for decades in Saoghal, and we will ensure it remains that way.”

“If I may, Your Majesty?” The silence following suggested that the speaker was given permission. “If we do not act soon, they threaten everything. Everything that you have worked so hard to restore. We could lose it all.”

Just a dream.

But the thought of these creatures, which I knew nothing about, losing this little slice of paradise? It made my stomach stir.

“Your suggestions are outrageous, Fergus. I suggest you keep them to yourself.”

I swallowed my own thoughts, as if I was inclined to offer them. It was a surprise to me that anyone would dare speak again after being shut down in such a way by the King. But they did.

“Prince Raegan? Would you like to share your thoughts on the matter?”

“Oh Conway, bore me with your politics any other day,” Prince Raegan responded, his voice far too familiar to me. I could even picture the way that his eyes would have rolled as he sighed, slumping back into whatever chair he had found. “My ceadan have received no such reports as what you all claim.”

Arguing arose once more, voices climbing higher and higher as everyone fought for a moment to speak.

“Your King’s decision in this matter is final. Poke and prod for favour with us another time,” the Prince grumbled.

“I did not mean to–”

The abrupt way in which the speaker halted their sentence suggested another one of Prince Raegan’s lifted hands. In my mind, I could see the brown rings upon each of his fingers as he lifted them.

Far too much silence stretched, enough to suggest the end of whatever meeting they were having. Yet no bodies emerged from the throne room.

One appeared behind me, though. Their chest grazed my back as their breath skimmed my neck. “I could have your ears for eavesdropping.”

I spun around without thinking, my head nearly knocking into the chest of Prince Raegan as he glared down at me.

One of his jewelled fingers lifted as a stray hair fell from my face, wrapping itself around his finger while he watched. “You look like you’ve just come from the barnyard.”

We were far too close. I was breathing death into my lungs. But why did my body welcome it so?

Just a dream.

“I thought I looked like one of you.”

Prince Raegan snorted as one corner of his lips rose. “I’m not sure whether to be flattered by your attempt or insulted.”

Then the Prince paused, his eyes becoming impossibly darker as he let his finger fall through that strand of hair. And from his lips came a whisper, a murmur, something that I would never be sure that he intended to say. “Your hair, it is like sunlight.”

It was hard to tell what the Prince was thinking at any given moment. Such lifelessness resided in his eyes as he returned to staring at me.

“Forgive me, Prince Raegan—” I tried a curtsy like I had seen actresses do on TV all the time, and dipped my chin.

“Oh, none of that,” he spat, stepping backwards. “I’m not sure what you just did with your knees there, but you looked like an ailed donkey. Do not do that again.”