Page 52 of The Dark Sea Calls

I ignored him. Shay and I might have shared a few stolen moments. But he had his own life. His own people. Something I envied but did not begrudge him.

Though, somewhere in my cold and defective heart, I felt a swell of pity like a growing wave, knowing that he was choosing a path that benefited everyone except him.

Shay Mac Eoin deserved more.

But pulling him back to the lake was pulling him back to war.

I told myself it shouldn’t hurt that he was gone.

But it did.

Tor brushed his hands together, allowing the water to swallow whatever grime had come off the tapestry as he had thrown it over the silver. The Kelpie wore an expression I had never seen before. Discomfort, coupled with a sour mouth as if he was trying to decide if the sea urchin he had cracked open and eaten was rotten or not.

Rainn seemed utterly oblivious to his friend's turmoil as he beamed at me. Happy to be alive and back in the water. “I can’t say that traveling the silvers is my favorite activity. In fact, it feels damn near like having your testicles pulled out through your nose—but I’m happy to be home.”

“My home,” Tor corrected with a grumble.

Rainn widened his eyes and made his lip quiver. “Can’t I stay? Pretty please? Maeve gets to stay.”

Tor blew out an exasperated breath—the sound distinctly horse-like. “As if I could make you leave. I fed you once and haven’t gotten rid of you ever since.”

Rainn rolled his eyes. “Are you hungry?” he asked Tor, and when he didn’t get the answer he wanted, he turned to me. “I’m hungry. We should eat.”

My stomach chose that moment to let out a loud gurgle, and I realized I hadn’t eaten in hours, having abandoned my meal because of my conversation with Moira. I pressed my hand to my belly and gave both males a weary smile.

Tor straightened, tugging at the askew neck of his tunic. “I’m sure the kitchen can find us something.” He gestured with his chin to the door.

I followed his gaze, my eyes skipping over the mounds of artifacts. One was a giant’s skull, larger than I was, with teeth longer than I had ever seen. “What room is this?”

“The room of cursed things.” Tor blinked slowly as if it was obvious.

As we left, I looked back at the sea glass covered mirror and wondered when my one source of comfort back in Cruinn became something to be feared by the Kelpies.

The last time I had arrived at the Reeds, I had been part of an entourage of soldiers, still shaking from seeing my kin murdered on the Frosted Sands. I had been dragged through the wall of black squirming reeds as the City of Lights emerged from the darkness, carved into the shore, under the surface.

The Reeds themselves did not open to the lake's surface but was submerged entirely in shadow and hidden by the wall of reeds that gave it it’s name. Only the Kelpie could enter, and any guests could only enter with the Kelpie's permission—I hadn’t wanted to think of what would happen if someone tried to pass the barrier without an invitation.

Tor moved through the palace in a way that made it evident it was his home. Though Tormalugh was an impassive creature, a male who prided himself on never showing a facial expression if he could help it, he seemed completely at ease. Highlighting just how stiff and uncomfortable he felt away from his home.

The Kelpies had two forms, a horse form and a two-legged one that mirrored most Sídhe. The palace seemed to be built for both, with doorways as tall as they were wide. The palace was as ornate as I remembered it. With the same ebony sea glass that rimmed the frame of my favorite silver, dotted around the doorframes, and embedded in the coving reaching up to the ceilings. Though the kingdom was in shadows. Hidden. Every room was lit with faelight. Bright, but allowing shadows to collect in the corners by contrast. There were a lack of guards, which I wouldn’t have noticed if not for the way my eyes skipped over the corners as if there was magic encouraging me to look away—I quickly realized it wasn’t that there weren’t any guards; just that they were hidden like the Reeds were.

The last time I had come to the Reeds, I had been dressed and taken to a guest chamber. I had eaten in the dining hall but hadn’t stayed long.

Tor took us through narrow hallways reserved exclusively for staff, but anyone that passed us ignored us as we descended through the palace into the kitchens—lured by the smell of food and the heat of the ovens.

In Cruinn, most cooked dishes, and there weren’t many, were boiled in the hot springs below the castle. The Reeds seemed to have their own solution for heating food, just as their cuisine differed from that of the Undine. The Undine favored fish, seaweed, and other underwater plants, but the Kelpies ate meat exclusively from the surface and under it.

The flurry of activity didn’t stop as Tor held open the kitchen doors and ushered us inside. The chefs barked commands from the chefs as they prepared breakfast, which was due in a few hours. I stared in awe at the glowing red rings on the flat counter—their magic tasted the same as faelight, but it was warmer. A ring of tiny bubbles where the light glowed, a different pot on every ring, with a lid hiding what was inside.

I’d seen animals from the land while walking the dried riverbed path. I had huddled under my blanket, hiding from their glowing eyes and furred hides. I hadn’t considered eating them, though I expected that landlings felt the same about fish.

Tormalugh stepped toward one of the pots, reaching for the handle. A spoon crashed down onto his knuckles, earning a hiss from the Kelpie. Tor bared his teeth to the chef, who glanced over his shoulder before doing a double take and bending in half so quickly that he almost snapped his body in two.

“Your Highness!” The chef squeaked, “We weren’t expecting you back for another week. I haven’t prepared a banquet—”

“It’s okay, Cail.” Tor held both his hands out, palms out, in an appeasing fashion. I hadn’t seen Tor try and placate anyone before. It was clear that he spent time in the kitchens. “We just needed a snack before we retire to my chambers.”

“Does your sister know you’re back?” Cail, the chef, turned pink. His eyes, the same dark sclera that all Kelpies had, roved wildly in his eye sockets like a spooked horse.

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