Page 14 of When Kings Fall

CHAPTER EIGHT

Selene

I FEEL A knot tightening in my stomach, a sickening twist of guilt that I can’t ignore. Am I betraying Diarmuid? The thought keeps gnawing at me as Lorcan guides me away from Diarmuid and Niamh. I can feel the heat of Diarmuid’s gaze on my back, and when I glance over my shoulder, I see it—his eyes are burning with a murderous intensity. I freeze, shocked that he isn’t reacting more strongly, that he isn’t storming over here and pulling me back to his side. But he doesn’t.

Maybe he understands the importance of making an impression here. Or maybe he trusts me. The idea that he trusts me so completely twists the knife of guilt even deeper. But there’s another part of me, a part I’m not proud of, that feels a spark of excitement. Lorcan O’Connor, the rising star of Irish politics, has chosen me. I might meet people tonight who wouldn’t even give Diarmuid a second glance, people who could change everything.

The corridor we step into is stark and elegant, with black and white tiles that echo with each of our steps. The cool air contrasts with the warmth of the tension building between us. Suddenly, Lorcan pulls me against him, his body firm and solid. I catch my breath, the world narrowing down to just the two of us.

“Oh, I’m going to pay for this,” Lorcan murmurs, his voice low and rough with a hint of a smirk, “but it’s going to be worth it.”

I feel my pulse quicken, my heart hammering in my chest. I look up at him, searching his eyes. “If you know it would make him angry, why did you do it?”

He grins a dangerous, almost boyish grin that sends a shiver down my spine. “He’s my younger brother; I have to.”

His words hang in the air between us, loaded with a history I’m not fully privy to, but can sense is complicated and deep. Before I can respond, Lorcan leans in, his lips so close to my ear that I can feel his warm breath on my neck.

"And maybe I was getting a bit envious of what he had," Lorcan murmurs, his voice low and teasing, but there's an edge to it that sends a ripple of unease through me. He’s too close, pushing too far, and I know this could all too easily spiral out of control. I glance back at Diarmuid, still standing with Niamh, his posture tense but composed. I know him well enough to understand that he’s barely keeping himself in check. If Lorcan crosses the line, I doubt Diarmuid could restrain himself from tackling his older brother to the ground, right here in front of everyone.

I can’t let that happen—not for Lorcan’s sake, and not for Diarmuid’s. So, I force a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear in a gesture that feels almost demure, and I turn the moment on its head. “You are too kind, Mr. O’Sullivan,” I say, my voice clear and loud enough for those around us to hear. I hope it sounds like I’m brushing off a harmless compliment, steering the situation back into safe, neutral territory.

Lorcan’s expression shifts, but not in the way I expect. He isn’t offended by my deflection. No, he looks amused, his eyes sparkling with that same dangerous mischief that drew me in earlier. He’s entertained by my attempt to save face, almost as if he’s enjoying the game we’re playing.

We move into the main room, the Orb Room, and the atmosphere shifts entirely. The space is round and grand, bathed in soft, professional lighting that casts everything in calm shades of blue and purple. The effect is almost otherworldly, serene, yet powerful. Round tables are elegantlyarranged throughout the room, each one perfectly set for the “Greater Ireland Benefit Dinner,” as announced by the banners on the stage at the front. The stage itself is understated but commanding, clearly meant to draw the eye without overwhelming the senses.

The laughter filling the room has a certain richness to it, the kind that comes from people who never have to worry about keeping a roof over their heads. It’s a sound that both intrigues and unsettles me. I’m an outsider here, in a world where power and privilege are the currency, and I feel the weight of that realization pressing down on me.

As I take it all in, a man moving across the room catches my eye. Tyrone Lynch. Exactly the man I want to meet tonight. He’s a key player, someone who could open doors that have long been shut to me and Diarmuid. The excitement I felt earlier flares up again, pushing aside the lingering guilt.

I glance over my shoulder, searching for Diarmuid and Niamh. But they’re not here yet. I don’t see them anywhere in the crowd. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed. For now, it’s just me, Lorcan, and this room full of possibilities.

I glance back at Tyrone, my gaze steady and determined. He’s speaking with a small group, the kind of people who can make or break careers with a word. This is my chance, and I don’t want to let it slip through my fingers.

“I want to meet the Prime Minister,” I say, turning to Lorcan. My voice is firm, but inside, my heart is pounding. I know it’s a bold request, but I’ve learned that sometimes, you have to be bold to get what you want.

Lorcan chuckles softly, shaking his head. “One does not simply walk up to the Prime Minister of Ireland, sweets.”

I stiffen at the nickname, shooting him a sharp look. “Don’t call me that. You’re a member of his party. You can approach him.”

He sighs, giving me a look that’s almost pitying. “You don’t understand politics.”

I bristle at his condescension. “Oh? I think I’ve navigated your world quite successfully so far.”

Without a word, Lorcan takes my arm and guides me behind one of the large potted plants scattered around the room. It offers a bit of privacy, shielding us from prying eyes. I glance around, noting that there are several such plants strategically placed to give these powerful people opportunities to talk without being stared at.

When I look back at Lorcan, he’s smiling that same playful, wicked smile that both intrigues and infuriates me. “Oh, kitten, you have no idea.”

“Another nickname?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“More fitting for you,” he says with a smirk. “Kittens have claws.”

I narrow my eyes, leaning in just slightly. “Be careful; I’m the pet of a monster.”

His grin widens, clearly entertained by my response. “Clever, but you aren’t ready for this world.”

“I think you’re trying to make yourself sound more mysterious than you actually are,” I counter, refusing to back down.

Lorcan’s chuckle is low and dark, sending a shiver down my spine. “If I ever revealed to this country half of the things I knew about the people leading them, there would be a revolution.”

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