Page 61 of Her Irish Treasures
Did I?
He looked up from my leg, his face grave. “Before we explore your further questions, I must make it clear that your thoughts be loud in me head as the sounds outside be to you, even more so than on the mortal plane. Summer Isle be me lair, so to speak, in Faerie, as that bog be created for Fhroig. Everything here works its magic for me. If you’d rather have privacy for further conversation to protect your thoughts, then I recommend we wait to discuss your concerns back in the mortal realm.”
Before I’d managed to free Doran, he’d told me that he wouldn’t lie—unless I wanted a lie of omission. His silence, rather than the truth, if it was too painful for me to hear.
I didn’t want his silence.
“How much did you know about me before I walked intoShamrockedthe first time?”
Emerald green fire bursts flared in his eyes and he laughed softly, shaking his head. “Even now, you manage to surprise me. Not the question I expected first. I knew the treasurekeeper was nearby. Those of us with any access at all to the mortal world felt your ceaseless pull. But nary a one of us could find you. A curtain covered you, shielding your image and location from all eyes, even though we could still smell your scent and feel your magic. It wasn’t untilhecame into me pub and threatened me that I knew exactly how imperiled you be.”
My eyes widened. “Jonathan threatened you?”
“He did indeed, and I was bound to accommodate his wishes, to a point. In that regard, you’d be wise to heed what others have told you about leprechauns.”
I opened my mouth to blurt out a denial, but the words wouldn’t come. I hadn’t expected him to agree with everyone telling me to be wary of him. Surely not. He’d just saved me. But had he been in on it from the beginning? No. I refused to believe it.
A chime sounded and Warwick stood, smoothing and straightening his clothing. I hadn’t noticed how nice he looked. He wore a shiny silk emerald tunic with long, flowing sleeves and black pants that looked like plushy velvet. Chunks of polished emerald and gold decorated his hair and throat, and yes, this time, his hair hung down to lightly sweep the marble tiles as he turned.
He bowed low as a woman stepped through the garden archway. Airy layers of gossamer silk floated all around her, robe, cape, and maybe even wings, glistening with opal droplets. A bit shorter than Warwick, she seemed to glide over the marble without taking a single step. Her skin looked like polished copper, and a matching thick braid hung down her back and trailed the floor behind her like a train.
Her face was starkly beautiful. Hauntingly high cheekbones, delicate nose and mouth, wide, shining eyes, sprinkled with light and power. As if I stared too long, I would never be able to look away. Her eyes gleamed like captured stars but I couldn’t tell a color. All colors of the universe sparked in her gaze.
Still bowing, Warwick said, “Thank you for coming, Your Majesty.”
“Of course, cousin. You’ve done all of Faerie a great service in helping keep our treasurekeeper alive and well.” She glided closer, a smile flitting over her perfect lips. “I’m Morgan, and you must be Riann, who managed to free Stoneheart from his long imprisonment.”
I caught myself still staring at her. A queen, from the way Warwick answered her. I flushed beet red and quickly started to swing my legs over the side of the chaise. Should I bow like him, or kneel? Or fuckingcurtsey? Did people kiss her hand?
Her laughter tinkled through the room, and she quickly lay a hand on my sore leg, stilling me. “Lady Riann, please don’t attempt to rise when you’re injured, and please, no kissing of hands is required.” She winked at Warwick, a dimple appearing in her smooth coppery cheeks. “Unless it’syourhand being kissed, my dear.”
Unsure, I settled back on the cushions, trying not to be awkward while she examined my leg. With my jeans rolled up, I could see the swelling. My foot looked like a balloon, and I’d developed an impressive black and blue cankle. No wonder I hadn’t been able to walk on it.
Queen Morgan stared intently for several minutes. Long enough that I dared a quick glance at Warwick, trying to understand what was going on. I didn’t feel or see anything happening, but I had no idea how magic might work here.
“It’s very much the same as when you work magic.” She straightened, brushing her palms off as if she’d gotten something on her hands. “That was some nasty work. You should drink as much honeyed nectar as you can take. That’ll speed healing from the inside out.”
Flushing, I looked back down at mynastyfoot. It was still swollen and bruised.
“Oh, no, dear one.” Shaking her head, she lightly touched a fingertip to my forehead. “I spoke of the lingering taint from the changeling. It was like a stain on your shining light and made you more susceptible to any dark fae influence. With Evil Eye running amok, you need all the magical protections at your disposal. Your foot will be as good as new once you drink some of Warwick’s nectar.”
“Oh. Thank you. For everything. Both of you.”
“I ask only one thing.” Holding my gaze, she leaned closer. Her eyes spun rainbows and diamonds through my mind. “The changeling’s name, if you please.”
14
My head spun. My stomach flip flopped. A cold, clammy sweat broke out on my forehead.
“Jonathan,” I croaked out, shivering. “Blake.”
The spinning rainbows flitted through my mind, dancing and bouncing like colorful fireflies.:Not his human name.:Morgan’s voice fluttered through me delicately.:His fae name. True names have power. Which one of our people did this to you?:
“I don’t know,” I said aloud.
The dizzying rainbows and dancing butterflies faded away. I blinked up at her, my breath coming in soft pants. She brushed her fingertips lightly over my cheek and straightened, turning to Warwick. I had the sense of silent communication flowing between them, but I could barely keep my eyes open. Everything kept spinning. The marble room. Copper skin, rainbow eyes. Emerald green and black silk.
Warwick.
