Page 65 of Her Irish Treasures
Grudgingly, the guys let up their death grip on me enough to help put the bar back to rights. Though Doran didn’t release my hand, as if afraid I’d disappear again. Already behind the bar, Warwick pulled a round of beers.
Doran lifted me up onto a bar stool, but stood behind me, his big body caging me protectively in front of him. “So, love, tell us if you will what happened once you passed through the portal.”
“If I may…” Warwick broke in. “Let me begin the tale as I know it, because the events at the fountain were set in motion long ago.” At Doran’s nod, he continued. “As you know, we’re on the fringe of Faerie, and so it’s easy enough to moveShamrockedat will. With your statue on me shelf, I found that the pub would manifest near the treasurekeeper when she began to come into power.”
“Wait, what?” I gulped. “I never came into power.”
Aidan grunted. “You say that when you just yanked a sword from the Slaughterer?”
I turned toward him, peering around Doran’s beefy biceps. “Okay, so yeah, maybe that was power, but I got that power fromyou. The treasures are reunited, right? So that makes us powerful.”
Warwick shook his head. “A treasurekeeper calls the treasures to her side as her power grows. Granted, that power has been failing with Doran’s capture, but you were calling them to you. It was no coincidence thatShamrockedwas on this corner when you were nearby, or that the Demon Hunters just happened to set up shop nearby. We were all pulled by your ceaseless tide to be where you needed us. Then I found the painting, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were in danger.”
“What painting?” Keane asked.
“A painting of the treasurekeeper opening a door to Faerie,” Warwick replied softly. “It screamed of magic, power, and danger all around. I took it to the Summer Isle for safekeeping but failed to find its creator. I followed the breadcrumb trail to the Kansas City Art Institute, but I was too late. She was gone.”
“I don’t remember painting it,” I whispered. “I don’t even recognize it as mine, though I agree it’s done in my style. We’re guessing that Jonathan must have gotten to me just before Warwick was able to track me down.”
Ivarr sighed heavily. “Of course. The trail disappeared because the changeling was already feasting on your power. No wonder Warwick couldn’t find you.”
“I did what I could,” Warwick continued. “I tossed me gold around the city, especially around the pub, hoping against all odds that she would find her way to us. One evening, a mortal man found his way inside with one of my coins. He took note of the Irish theme of the bar and jokingly dropped the coin on the bar, asking if I would give him three wishes. Me a fool, I agreed. Only to learn the man was no mortal at all.”
My eyes flared with sudden realization. “It was Jonathan, wasn’t it? The changeling Jonathan.”
Warwick nodded. Sweat beaded on his forehead and I detected a faint quiver in his hand as he lifted his heavy mug for a long swig of beer. “He got his wishes. You can guess much of what he demanded of me.”
“You couldn’t warn her.” Doran’s chest rumbled against my back. “You can’t say who he be. You can’t take any action to stop him.”
Warwick thunked the empty mug down on the bar. “Close enough. I did what I could without violating his geasa, but it wasn’t enough. Year after year went by, driving me insane with worry and helplessness. I could do nothing but wait. Hope against hope, even as the magic died a little more each day. I went to every art fair and display I could find, hoping to stumble across another canvas, a clue to her identity. I had a vague notion that if I could point the other treasures in her direction that they’d be able to circumvent the changeling where I couldn’t, but it was too late. The ceaseless tide of power that had called us here to Kansas City faded away.”
“You said nothing,” Aidan growled. “All these years. You could have told us something. Surely. If I’d known…” He slammed his mug down on the bar and bowed his head. “I’d like to say that I would have found you, Riann. I would have done something. But I fear that I would have been the same bull-headed idjit who refused to help you until you stole my ride.”
Doran clamped a hand on his shoulder and dragged him closer so I could hug him. “You don’t know that. You did what you could. All of you. You had no idea that I was in trouble.”
“But I did,” he mumbled, his voice cracking. “The treasurekeeper’s always in danger. I pretended that if I didn’t know, you would be alright. If I kept you away from me, you couldn’t be harmed. Meanwhile you were raped and tortured by a changeling that you couldn’t escape.”
I shuddered. I had a problem with that word. My brain immediately rejected the idea. That wasn’t me. I hadn’t been raped. Or tortured.
I’d been miserable, sure. I’d wanted to divorce Jonathan, and even though I’d wanted to leave, I somehow never could. It made sense now that I knew what kind of hold that he’d had on me.
My mind had created scenarios and excuses while I lived with Vivi. Because I hadn’t wanted to remember the truth. Some of that had been damaged memories, yes. But some of it had also been avoidance.
I had never been in love with Jonathan Blake—because that man didn’t even exist. Any vague idea of a normal relationship had been me trying to survive while the changeling reeled me deeper into the trap I couldn’t escape.
Closing my eyes, I leaned against Aidan, grateful for both him and Doran supporting me. I didn’t think I could sit upright without their help. I’d just melt into a sobbing mess on the floor.
Ivarr stroked my back. Keane held my hand between both of his gloved hands, gently kissing my knuckles one by one.
And Warwick stood on the opposite side of the bar. A sad little smile on his lips.
I pulled my other arm free of Aidan and reached across the bar, offering my hand palm up. Warwick lightly danced his fingers over my skin but didn’t immediately take my hand in his. As if he didn’t have the right. Or he didn’t want to upset the guys, especially Aidan.
“He saved me,” I said out loud. “Jonathan was there on the other side of the fountain.”
“What happened, love?” Doran asked.
“When I opened my eyes, I was on a muddy, swampy island. Jonathan came almost immediately. It was his trap. He said he needed something from me. Something he hadn’t been able to find out in five years.”
