Page 63 of The Dark Sea Calls

“Troid Sídhe?”

“I forget that the Selkies don’t have the same names for magics as the Undine do.” I smiled apologetically. “A Troid Sídhe is an Undine with an affinity for strength and speed. Most of the palace guards and the Undine soldiers are Troid Sídhe.” Realizing how much I had revealed, I pressed my lips together. “I shouldn’t have told you all that.”

“Still feeling loyal to Cruinn?” Rainn quirked a brow.

“I shouldn’t. Not after everything my uncle has done.”

“Emotions don’t often follow logic.” The Selkie shrugged, his arms still around my middle. “You can feel, or not feel, however you like.”

I pulled my lip between my teeth and nodded. I felt like that statement alluded to more than just my ambivalent feelings towards Cruinn and more towards a certain Selkie and Kelpie. “What happens next?” I turned to the shadowy wall behind us. “What happens when the Merfolk get to Cruinn, and I’m not there? I can’t let Cormac kill Liam.”

“King Irvine wants you back in Cruinn.” Rainn frowned. “You heard him talking to the Siren Queen. You know you can’t go back there. He’ll make you sit on the High Throne again.”

The world rocked like I was standing on a ship. I felt sick. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

“But?”

I looked up at Rainn, meeting his sky-blue eyes. Even as my world shifted and I felt like the ground under me was falling away, he was the one thing that kept me grounded. I opened my mouth to try and explain why I needed to return to Cruinn, but I couldn’t find the words.

“Why does it have to be you?” Rainn’s lips turned down at the corners. He lifted his hand to my cheek, brushing his thumb over my scar—where my crescent moon had once lived. “You don’t have to take responsibility for the actions of others. If Cormac brings Liam to Cruinn and finds out that King Irvine doesn’t have you in his possession, it has nothing to do with you. Whatever Cormac does to Liam is not your responsibility.”

When I opened my mouth, a strangled sound echoed against my teeth. “How can you say that?”

Rainn tilted his head, confused.

“We’re talking about people dying.” My eyes burned with tears.

“Maeve. We can’t control what other people do,” he argued.

“I can. If I go to Cruinn, Cormac and my uncle can make a trade.” I reached up and gripped the lapels of his shirt.

“You think your uncle will allow Tarsainn to take you?” Rainn reached up and curled his hands over mine. His eyes never left mine. “Do you think I would let you go with either of them?”

“Let me?” My anger flashed. “Let me?” I pushed myself away, taking a step back.

Rainn tried to follow me, but I held my hands up to ward him off. As my rage built, mixing with the confusion and uncertainty coursing through my body. I felt a weight drop down onto my shoulders. I reached up, feeling the warm fur of the blanket Rainn had given me. I growled in frustration, batting my arms to try and untangle myself from the fur.

I knew the blanket had magic somehow, but I had never thought about how it had always followed me, even if I had left it behind. When I was cold, alone, or angry, the fur found its way to me.

“Rainn?” I held up the blanket, brandishing it at the Selkie.

Something flashed across Rainn’s cherubic face. Guilt.

I looked down at the blanket again. “Why does this blanket keep following me?”

Rainn didn’t answer.

I searched his body for the chain he wore on his hips that held his skin. The chain that never left his body. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen the chain.

“This isn’t your skin,” I told him.

He agreed. “It’s not my skin.”

“It’s not your skin.” I pushed my hands through my hair, shaking my head, as my body folded in on itself. “But, it has to be. It’s followed me across the Night Court. Where is your skin?” My mind couldn’t seem to grasp the level of betrayal. The bald-faced lying didn’t mesh with my Rainn—the male I had allowed in my bed and in my heart. I felt tears bubble up in my eyes, unable to fall under the surface. I looked up, broken. “You said,” I whispered.

Rainn’s brows knitted together. “It isn’t my skin.”

Fist clenched, and I punched my thigh. “STOP LYING TO ME!” I screamed; my throat turned hoarse with my plea.

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