Page 67 of Her Irish Treasures
Casually, Warwick picked up Aidan’s mug and pulled him another draft. “I’ve been much more careful with me wards since that unfortunate encounter. Especially now that the treasurekeeper walks among us. In case you’re worried that some unsavory fae might overhear.”
“Eochu Bres.” Doran’s voice rattled the heavy mugs on the bar. “High King of Maige Tuired, better known as Pillars on the Plain.”
A resounding gong-like chime rang through the pub for several seconds. Once it quieted, the silence seemed to echo and pulse with tension.
“Who’s that?” I whispered faintly.
Aidan glowered at his mug. Ivarr shook his head. Keane tapped leather-clad fingers on the bar but didn’t answer. I couldn’t see Doran’s reaction but from the grim tone of his voice, I figured it must be pretty bad.
Warwick leaned down on the bar in front of me, his lips quirked with a wry chuckle that didn’t reach his eyes. “Only one of the most powerful fae kings to ever cross the veil.”
Aidan grunted, shaking his head. “Not quite as hated as Evil Eye but a close second.”
Great. Just fucking great.
16
Usually when the guys drank, the mood shifted to laughter and teasing. This time, nothing could shake the grim weight hanging over our heads.
Doran still clutched me, refusing to let me go for a moment. At least Aidan wasn’t trying to chop off Warwick’s head any longer. Definitely an improvement. Though I didn’t think they’d be pals anytime soon.
“You said you met Queen Morgan earlier,” Aidan said, pulling my attention to him.
“She came to heal me. Evidently I still carried some of the changeling’s dark power.”
He grimaced and gulped another long swallow of his beer. “Fucking bastard. Was he still feeding on you?”
Shuddering, I met Warwick’s gaze. “I don’t think so. He kept trying to get me to come with him, but I was able to refuse. I don’t think I would have been able to keep my wits about me if he was still feeding on me.”
“A changeling plants a sort of tether in their host, a connection that they use to feed on energy and emotions,” Warwick said. “I could feel the darkness still in you, but his geasa forbade me from interfering with his magic in any way or even warning you that it was there.”
“What activated it in the first place?”
He shrugged. “I have no way to know for sure, but usually it’s something very small. A minor favor or request that gives the fae a foothold in your will. A sense of obligation that they take advantage of, though it could be as easy as giving the fae your full name.”
My eyes flared. “He held his hand out to me in the oubliette but didn’t touch me. I thought it was weird, though of course I was relieved. If I’d taken his hand…”
Doran’s arms squeezed me tighter to his broad chest. “He’d have likely reactivated his link and you would have been gone forever.”
I couldn’t breathe, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. “How did I get away from him in the first place?”
Everyone looked at Warwick. He even made scowling look pretty. “I have no bleeding idea. I wasn’t there, remember? I was forbidden from searching for you or interfering with him in any way. I had to wait for you to find me.”
“I wish I knew more about your legends and histories. Or how Faerie works.” I rubbed my temples, trying to ease the brewing headache. “I’m so confused. I’m just a human, a mortal woman. Yet I’m supposed to have some secret knowledge to take out this powerful dark fae? How? Who’s Bres anyway and why would he want to stop Balor?”
“Keane’s the best storyteller,” Aidan said. “Though we’ll be here all night.”
Keane huffed out a laugh. “I’ll keep it short. Five minutes or less.”
Ivarr thumped the bar. “I’ll take some of that action. No way you can keep it under five.”
“Done,” Aidan said. “The leprechaun can mark the time.”
“Luck you,” Warwick drawled. “Time it yourself.”
I couldn’t help but snort. “What did you say?”
He winked at me. “Luck is better than any f-bomb.”
