Page 83 of Why Broken Wings Fray

Shea rolled her eyes, letting out a huff. “I think she wants a reward, or something. For sucking the joy out of the air, I mean.”

I had to pull both of my lips between my teeth just to avoid laughing.

“If you’re so bothered about Raegan’s safety, why aren’t you with him?” Liam dared to enter the conversation, which I thought was absolute madness. Getting between Ciara and Shea while they were in their many moods – which was a constant – was like trying to stand between two challenging lions as they chuffed and circled one another. Their fangs were two that I would avoid at all cost.

“I couldn’t find him,” Ciara growled.

“What a great guard you are,” Shea said.

Aisling snickered, which meant that Ciara’s seething rage was turned in the span of a second to her.

Noticing this, Aisling took a cautious step back and motioned for me to follow with the toss of her chin. Thankful to get away from the snapping piranha’s, I found myself at Aisling’s side and skipped away from the rest of them.

A safe distance from Liam, Ciara, and Shea as they started arguing, Aisling let out a deep breath and steered us towards the throne room. The whole way she fidgeted awkwardly with her dress, a long satin gathering of blush that, against her already pinkened skin, made her appear as if she wasn’t wearing any clothes at first glance. The way it hugged her, leaving very little room for movements all along her body until it tapered off at her ankles, only furthered her look of a rose cocoon. But she was, as all of the females seemed to be, a sight.

The throne room in the Cluaineach castle was glistening as if it knew we hosted a party, every laugh crashing against the glass-walls, every smile reflecting in the mirrored sheens. The throne was as it always was, centered on that dais with a certain aura that demanded attention.

I was disappointed to step into the throne room and not see what I saw in Choilltean, during Beltane. Because it was here, within the door-frame of that castle’s throne room, that I looked up and saw both Killian and Raegan, smirks prominent, staring across the room at me. Except now, for Imbolc, in Cluaineach, I saw neither of them on that dais. It filled me with a strange hollowness, my mood slipping quickly into dread for the evening instead of excitement.

About to truly sink into the desire to disappear from the party and catch up on some sleep, I was jolted into a harsh reality when drums started to beat.

Not the drums from the musicians, who played out in front of the castle and occasionally allowed their jigs to soar through the castle. No, these were big drums, powerful drums, beating to a rhythm that I had only ever heard once.

War drums.

I wasn’t the only one taken aback by that noise, by the memories it stirred, by the shouts and screams of dying pixies that still plagued my nightmares and followed me in my darkest hours. Others around me dropped what they were doing – conversing, drinking, and eating – and pivoted towards that noise, their bodies otherwise pieces of solidified flesh.

Aisling and I shared in a nervous look before we, too, turned back towards the doorway we had just walked through.

The drums grew louder. They demanded more and more and more with each thud, the vibrations scattering over the kingdom and drilling its way into my bones, shaking my entire being.

But then someone stepped through that doorway. Someone who, regardless of what was going on around us, sent a sense of grounding through me that scared off that fear and anticipation.

Raegan.

Raegan Righ’Faiche’Fiodh’Rugadh.

The King of Talamh, adorned in his excellence, strode through his own throne room as if the beating of war drums was nothing more than the pace that he took to.

And behind him, Queen Tonn of Uisge.

Prince Tadgh of Uisge.

The room went silent.

38

____________________

What I said before, about scenting the air and feeling overly pixie, was no longer the moment that I knew I had spent too much time around them. It was this moment, seeing Raegan stride into the throne room and being confined by societal expectation to not run to the King, that brought out something semi-primal in me. Something that Killian had mentioned before, yet I had never thought I would be capable of feeling as a mere human in their world.

But it took my body by storm. I grabbed on to Aisling, dug my nails into her arm, and heard her laugh as she accepted that she would be my anchor until it was acceptable to take Raegan’s attention for myself.

Behave, I snarled to myself.

Raegan ascended his dais, his chin impossibly high, his shoulders impossibly square. Everything about him was regal, poised, and intentional as he took those slow steps, leaving everyone in the throne room to sit in that anticipation for every painful second.

Once he reached his throne, he did not sit in it but turned, revealing the full profile of his front for everyone to look upon him.