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Balor extended a pale hand, his fingertips hovering just an inch from the edge of the treeline. I remembered the feel of those long, cold fingers wrapped around my neck. Circling my scrawny arm as he flung me to the ground or into freezing water when I was a boy. Poking and prodding and jabbing as cruel laughter filled the air.
I hated him more than anything.
“If you can get up and limp your way to me, I’ll look after you,” he murmured pityingly.
I snapped my teeth at him, but the threat was weak. Pointless. I couldn’t even stand up.
“This would never have happened if you’d just stayed with me, Lonan.” Balor heaved a longsuffering sigh. “But I’m still willing to have you by my side. Just come here. Come on. Come. Here.”
I’m not a fucking dog, I wanted to scream, panting with fear as phantom pain shot up and down my missing leg like white-hot needles.
“I’m sure we can find a way to fix this,” Balor wheedled in a condescending tone. “But I’m not like Mother anyway, Lonan. I won’t force you to shift into every kind of animal like you’re nothing but a little puppet. I’ll even overlook the ugly wooden leg. I’ll dress you in the finest clothes that hide it completely. No one on unseelie ever need know that you’re deformed.”
He gestured at me again, still holding out his hand, and cooed, “Come on, Lonan. Together we will get rid of Mother and rule unseelie. You’ll have a place again. A purpose. You’ll be where you belong. With me.”
I finally managed to stand up, my three legs shaking wildly and my body wanting to tip to one side. I heard him tut when I turned in a tight circle, limping unsteadily, to get away. I needed to get away. My mind felt even more chaotic, panic swirling. I wanted Ash.
Ash. I want Ash.
“Shame,” I heard Balor say. “Don’t forget we’re running out of time, Lonan.”
I ignored him as I stumbled over the grass, falling repeatedly as I struggled to coordinate just three legs in this form. But I didn’t dare shift back. I couldn’t. I was too terrified to find out what would happen to my leg once I was in my true form again. It might be gone completely. It might be a fresh, torn-open wound. I remembered the agony of it.
My breaths were snarling out of me in panic, my fur standing on end, and the animalistic part of my brain was very, very aware that I was in the wrong place, surrounded by the wrong kind of fae, alone and weak and defenceless. But I kept limping forward, trying to bite back my pained whines, telling myself again and again that everything would be alright if I could just get back to Ash.
I knew I was lying to myself. But I kept going.
Chapter Nineteen
Ash
“Luad.” Frantic pounding on the bedroom door ripped me out of sleep. I winced as the bright morning sunlight pierced my eyes the moment I opened them, still groggy from being woken so suddenly. “Luad?”
Jora’s muffled voice was wobbly with panic as she knocked again. Frowning hard, I rubbed the grit out of my eyes and instinctively looked over at Lonan to make sure he was alright.
He wasn’t there.
Worry dropped into the pit of my stomach like a heavy weight, making me shoot up in bed. My hand patted over the empty side of the mattress, finding it cool.
I scrambled out of bed and shoved on the first things I could find, a pair of loose linen trousers and a white shirt. I was still buttoning it when I ripped open the bedroom door.
“Where’s Lonan?” I demanded as Jora parted her lips to speak, face flushed deep pink. “Is he okay?”
“I-I haven’t seen him, King Ash.” She sounded distracted, and she twisted the front of her dress in her hands as she stared up at me anxiously. “We—There’s a wolf,” she blurted.
I froze. “What?”
“In the rose garden. There’s a wolf. We don’t know what to do. It… it only has three legs—”
My pulse leapt. I set off without another word, striding down the corridor as fast as I could. “Is he injured?”
“Well, it—he is missing the leg, but it isn’t bleeding… We think it’s a spiritsmith, Luad, because of the eyes. Its eyes aren’t… It might be dangerous.”
I forced myself not to snap at her even as a sharp flare of anger made my fists clench. It wasn’t Jora’s fault. She didn’t know it was Lonan. I assumed the seelie Folk knew that Lonan was a spiritsmith, but his known form was that of the crow. The fact that he could change into almost anything was a secret the Carlin had closely guarded. Probably so she could send him out in various forms to stalk and spy on fae without them realising.
“He’s not dangerous.” I suddenly remembered Lonan saying he’d talked to Gillie about his leg and what would happen if he shifted. “Jora, will you go and get Prince Nua and Gillie? Ask them to meet me in the rose garden.”
“Of course, Luad.” She rushed off.
