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Her brother was gone. Disappeared. Vanished without a trace. Just like her mother.
Only this time, no one really wanted to find him. Aside from Arianna, of course, but even she’d been huddled in her room, both recovering and mourning for her mate.
Saoirse knew firsthand how much grief could tear someone down. She’d seen it in her father when he’d raged through the estate and everyone had feared to so much as speak to him.
He’d become a different male then, someone unapproachable rather than the loving parent she’d always known. And he’d remained that way until his untimely death.
She’d never understood why her father had stopped searching. She certainly never had. Saoirse hadn’t cared what others claimed, but when her father had demanded resources be spent elsewhere, she’d flat-out disobeyed and used her own funds to continue the hunt.
Saoirse still had maps all along the walls of her room. Details of other High Lords and Ladies and those within the courts whom her mother had seemed to know well. Saoirse had detailed every aspect of their lives until she knew what brew of coffee or tea they preferred and whether they took sugar or milk with each. She’d stalked them to an unhealthy level, always searching for anything out of place.
She’d broken into homes and searched through records she had no business seeing and she’d stolen diaries and combed the pages for any mention of The High Lady of Brónach
All that effort and nothing.
Saoirse still remembered the day she’d collapsed in the middle of her room and cried. She’d exhausted all possibilities and had come up empty.
Now she stared at the earth as it slowly faded from a bright color to a darker shade and wondered if the same fate would befall her little brother. Would she never see his face again? Never have a chance to right all the wrong she’d done to him?
A footstep. A scent. Saoirse closed her eyes as the female stood on the path, likely staring at her. Maybe if she didn’t look up, the female would get the hint and leave her alone. No one came to the rear corner of a garden if they wanted company. And Saoirse certainly didn’t want company right now. She just needed a few minutes to take in the grief and feel the heaviness of her family’s absence. A few minutes, then she’d march back to her warriors and begin another search.
The footsteps receded and Saoirse breathed a sigh of relief.
They were in the royal city, which meant her list of suspects was short but complex. These were the council members, Fae who were hundreds of years older than she was, and probably far better at playing a long-term manipulative game.
But she needed to play smarter. She couldn’t let her brother just vanish. Saoirse wasn’t sure she’d survive losing another member of her family. And what would happen if they decided to come after her brother Alec next? She’d just be a useless leader who couldn’t protect her own family.
The footsteps sounded again and Saoirse gritted her teeth. “I’m not in the mood today.” She didn’t think she could banter with the female without also biting at her.
But the footsteps drew closer and Saoirse reluctantly lifted her heavy head to find Zylah standing before her with a steeping cup of tea between her hands. Zylah didn’t look away, wasn’t embarrassed or shy or anything Saoirse might have expected from bringing tea.
Zylah stepped close enough to place it on the bench then stepped away. Light rain hit the hot liquid, but Saoirse glanced back at the female who seemed to be observing her.
“You looked like you needed it.”
Saoirse laughed, but the sound was hollow. “Is it poisoned?”
Zylah tilted her head as if she might be considering the idea. “No, I’ve thought about a lot of ways I could kill you, and poison is the furthest down the list.”
Saoirse took the cup in one hand. “Glad to know you’ve been thinking about me.” But her gaze turned back to the dark liquid that reflected her worn face.
“They’ll find him,” Zylah said simply.
Saoirse’s heart seized but she wouldn’t let Zylah see it. Though if she’d brought her tea, Saoirse ventured to guess her feelings were already fairly obvious. “Careful,” Saoirse warned. “Someone might start thinking you care.”
Zylah didn’t respond at first so Saoirse looked up to see her face tilted toward the heavens. The misty rain clung to individual strands of her hair.
“I had a little brother once,” she said, her voice full of bittersweet memories. “I wouldn’t wish the pain of losing a sibling on anyone.”
Saoirse felt a lump in her throat, then tore her gaze away and studied the tea again. She sipped the steaming beverage and let the bitter taste drown her threatening tears. “Thank you.”
Chapter Fifty-nine
Raevina
Raevina hissed against the pain in her stomach as Cahira unbound her wound. She cursed the creature that had given it to her, vowing to slaughter every single one of them when she returned to Púróg. To hell with her father’s demands and rules. Maybe she’d just confront him right then and there and be done with the whole mess.
She cursed when she peered down at the red skin lining what was once a superficial scratch. The wound had festered and deepened, and Cahira cleaned pus from it every morning and every night. She’d developed a fever too, just another reason for Raevina to annihilate those blasted Chimera. She’d always hated the Dark Fae as much as anyone else, but now things were personal.
