by Donna Grant
Eilish hurried inside and halted. “So Mikkel’s spy is within Graves.”
Since he hadn’t said anything about Nikolai or Esther being with Ulrik on his second visit, it was easy to deduce. Mikkel’s spy could be anyone—a patron or even an employee.
Wonderful. She’d never worried about being spied on before, but now she’d be driven to look for the person. Or people.
Damn Mikkel.
Damn Ulrik.
Damn her father.
Damn her mother.
If only Eilish didn’t have this drive to learn of her mother. If only she could put the past behind her and never let it intrude upon her again. But the questions nagged her. Questions she desperately needed answers to.
That need had led her to work with Mikkel. She wasn’t a murderer. In fact, the only person she’d ever killed was the Dark Fae who accosted her when she first arrived in Ireland, the one who went against her rules and attacked a member of the village.
Yet she’d agreed to kill not one, but two Dragon Kings. All to have Mikkel pass on the full name of her mother. God. What was she becoming?
She wasn’t sure she could look at herself in the mirror. And she hadn’t even killed anyone yet. But she had done horrible, horrible things. She’d crossed a line long ago.
And she was just now realizing that.
What did that tell her about her life?
“I’m fucked. Totally.”
She had two choices. Either she could embrace who she was becoming and do everything Mikkel asked so she could finally get the answers she sought about her mother.
Or … she could shake off the hold the past had on her and tell Mikkel to kiss off.
Her thoughts went to the man Nikolai and Esther claimed was her real father—Donal Cleary. A man who had loved her mother. Someone who now resided in London.
Not long ago, Eilish had stood outside The Porterhouse pub for an hour, debating whether to confront Donal. In the end, she had chickened out.
Donal was a link to her mother. At least Eilish hoped he was. She believed Nikolai and Esther. She wasn’t sure she could take it if they had lied to her. The knowledge of Donal had given her a small thread of hope, and she was clinging to it with everything she was. He could be what allowed her to sever her link to Mikkel.
She felt as if she were coming unhinged. As if she no longer knew what was right and what was wrong. As if she were spinning in circles and letting chance throw her off the crazy ride she was on.
And, dammit, why did she have to keep thinking about Ulrik?
He surprised her again and again. First, by coming to see her. Then by helping his fellow Dragon King, Nikolai. Eilish had sensed there was a deep friendship there, one Ulrik was trying to ignore.
But he’d done a poor job of it because the next thing she knew, Ulrik was helping Nikolai fight a group of Dark.
That’s when she’d gotten to see Ulrik in his true form. Silver, sleek, powerful. He was insanely beautiful. And terrifying.
CHAPTER THREE
Dark Fae Palace
The malicious intent of the Dark fairly seeped from the gray stones of the palace to soak the air and everything around it. And Ulrik could care less.
Before he’d been banished from Dreagan, he would’ve fought the Dark with everything he was. He would’ve laid waste to them, happily ripping them apart.
Now, he was aligned with one.
And not just any Dark. The new king, Balladyn.
Ulrik moved through the arched corridors of the palace, walking past many red-eyed, black-and-silver-haired Fae on his way to see the new leader. He’d known it was only a matter of time before Balladyn killed Taraeth and took over.
It would be a shock for a lot of the Dark who had only known Taraeth as king. He’d reigned longer than any other Dark king before him, but Ulrik suspected that Balladyn might last even longer than Taraeth.
A lot of that had to do with Balladyn himself. Once the commander of the Light Army and captain of the Queen’s Guard, he had been revered and respected by the Light Fae. But all that had changed when Usaeil, the Light Queen, learned that Balladyn was in love with Rhi.
Petty, demanding Usaeil hadn’t been able to accept that. Not because she loved Balladyn but because she was jealous of everything Rhi was—and Usaeil wasn’t.
It wasn’t until quite recently that anyone learned how the queen had approached Taraeth and asked him to kill Balladyn. Except, instead of killing him, Taraeth turned Balladyn Dark.
Now, the new king was after his own revenge—against Usaeil.
And where did that leave Rhi?
The first female of the Queen’s Guard, Rhi had loved—and lost—a Dragon King. After millennia apart, Balladyn’s and Rhi’s paths crossed again. It still amazed Ulrik that despite everything, Balladyn’s love for Rhi had trumped his hate.
Balladyn had also managed to convince Rhi of his feelings, and the two were now lovers. But for how long? Whether Balladyn wanted to admit it or not, Rhi was still very much in love with her Dragon King.
But that was one relationship Ulrik wouldn’t get in the middle of. Rhi was more than capable of handling things herself.
At the last minute, Ulrik detoured from his path and turned left to the stairs. He went up two levels and made his way through the maze of hallways until he stood before a door. For long minutes, he silently stared at it before pushing it open.
He remained in the doorway, refusing to go inside. All the blood had been cleaned, and the body removed. But nothing would erase the memory of Muriel viciously killed by Mikkel. It was just one more reason Ulrik wanted to take out his uncle.
Muriel had been Taraeth’s slave and forced to spy upon Ulrik. But she had risked everything by coming to Ulrik with a proposition. She would give him information if he helped her get revenge.
It seemed that everything always came back to retribution. It didn’t matter what species, it was a driving force.
“I figured you’d come here,” said a deep, Irish voice.
Ulrik turned his head to the side as Balladyn walked up beside him. Balladyn nodded his head of long, black-and-silver hair in greeting.
Ulrik returned the nod. “Muriel didn’t deserve such a death.”
“Some would disagree with you. She was Dark, after all.”
Ulrik frowned. “And you are King of the Dark.”
Balladyn’s face broke into a smile. He crossed his arms over his chest, his black shirt stretching tightly across his shoulders. “That I am. And it’s fekking fantastic.”
“I take it the transition went smoothly?”
“It has.”
Ulrik closed the door to Muriel’s room, saying his final farewell. Together, he and Balladyn walked. After the group of Dark Fae that attacked Nikolai and Esther, Ulrik wondered if Balladyn had heard he joined the fight. “Have you spoken to Rhi?”
Balladyn gave a half-hearted shrug. “I’ve not.”
“I hear anger in your words.”
Balladyn halted and turned to him. His face contorted with such fury that it surprised Ulrik. “I thought she was on my side.”
“Rhi is loyal to a fault. You know that.”
“Aye. Loyal to the Dragon Kings,” Balladyn spat.
This was growing stranger by the second. “What happened?”
Without a word, Balladyn grabbed Ulrik’s arm and transported them to his private chambers at the top of the palace. There, Ulrik watched as Balladyn paced away, letting the full force of his rage show in his clenched fists and contorted face.
“You said I could trust you. That we were to trust each other.”
Ulrik nodded. “That’s right. It’s no’ something either of us does lightly.”
“No. We don’t.” Balladyn stopped and whirled to face him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared at Ulrik for a long, silent minute. “When I attacked Taraeth, the bastard managed to get me with a blade. I killed him, but I was also dying.”
Ulrik could guess what
happened next. “You called out to Rhi.”
“I wanted her with me when I went. Instead, she brought Con.”
Now Ulrik was truly shocked. Con, who could heal anything but death, was one who never went against his moral standards—and Con had a particular hatred for the Dark. As all Dragon Kings did. Well, all but him. Ulrik would’ve bet his entire, sizable fortune that Con would’ve refused to heal Balladyn.
But the truth stood before him now.
“Aye,” Balladyn said with a nod, his red eyes burning with hate. “That’s right. The fekker healed me.”
“Did he ask for something in return?”
“He left without a word.”
Now, that was truly odd. Ulrik glanced out the window to see it raining heavily, preventing him from seeing the pretty Irish countryside the Dark claimed as theirs. A magical barrier stopped anyone from viewing the palace, and any mortal who was stupid enough to get close lost his or her life to one of the thousands of Dark who called the palace home.
Ulrik watched Balladyn carefully. The Dark had changed, and it wasn’t all because he was now king. Though they were getting to the root of the problem. “But you were healed and able to take your new position.”
“Aye.” Balladyn stalked to stand in front of Ulrik. “When I mentioned to Rhi that I didn’t like being beholden to Con, she said that I could wipe the slate clean by stopping the attacks on Dragon Kings.”
“And your response?”
“We exchanged a few more words, and then I came here to take my rightful place,” Balladyn stated.
Now Ulrik had his answer. Balladyn was changed because Rhi asked Con to heal him, and Con did. Rhi had wanted to save her friend and lover. It had never entered her mind that Balladyn would think he owed Con.
But that’s not how Balladyn saw it. And he’d never see Rhi’s side.
Ulrik could only imagine how Rhi must be hurting. Whether she’d meant to or not, she’d become a dear friend to the Dragon Kings, and not just because she loved one. Because she was loyal and true.
While nothing but pain and heartache had been dealt to her time and again.
In many ways, Rhi fascinated Ulrik. How she could get beaten down so many times and manage to find her feet again without being consumed by the need for vengeance intrigued him. But the light within Rhi shone brighter than in any other being in the universe.
It made her stand out. It made everyone flock to Rhi. It made her a friend—and an enemy no one wanted. It made her special and unique.
And with just a few words, Balladyn had lost her forever.
The bastard didn’t even know it yet. He was too caught up in his anger to see it, but it was obvious to Ulrik. And when Balladyn finally realized it, the fallout would be immense.
“I hear you released a new edict to the Dark,” Ulrik said.
One side of Balladyn’s lips lifted in a smile. “Open season on humans.”
“Just so you know, a group of Dark attacked a mortal a few nights ago. That human happened to be the mate of a Dragon King. One I took into my home as a youngling and raised.”
Balladyn was quiet for a heartbeat. Then he asked softly, “You fought alongside a King?”
“I am a Dragon King. And aye, to answer your question, I did. I willna have any King lose his mate.”
“Even if that King is Con?”
Ulrik held Balladyn’s gaze for a long minute, refusing to answer.
“How many of my Dark were killed?” Balladyn asked.
“All seven.”
Balladyn turned away at the news. “Have your objectives changed?”
“They’ve no’. I still intend to kill Mikkel, and I will challenge Con.”
“Mikkel was scheduled for a meeting with Taraeth an hour ago. He was a no-show.”
Ulrik wasn’t surprised. “It looks as if a Dark is spying in the palace for my uncle.”
“I’ll find the culprit. I was looking forward to that meeting so I could kill Mikkel.”
“He willna go down that easily. It will take someone with a more cunning and devious mind than he has. Me.”
Balladyn turned back to Ulrik and chuckled. “I’d like to be there to see it.”
“It’ll happen soon. I’m expecting a visit from the Druid.”
The Dark’s forehead furrowed. “The one Mikkel believes can kill Dragon Kings?”
“The verra one.”
“You don’t sound fearful. Is it because you know she can’t hurt you?”
Ulrik lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve no doubt she can. If it’s meant for her to end me, then she will. The power within her is palpable. She’s strong, and she knows it. Mikkel was smart to get her to align with him.”
“Where is this Druid?”
“In Ireland. She owns Graves.”
Balladyn nodded his head in recognition. “I’ve heard some Dark speak of the pub. I didn’t realize she was the Druid running it. I hear she’s put that village under her protection. Even humans go to the bar, and none of the Fae harm them.”
“It’s true. I’ve seen it for myself.”
“I might need to pay her a visit.”
Ulrik felt a wave of protectiveness rise within him, but he hastily shoved it aside. Eilish needed safeguarding from no one, especially him.
In his mind’s eye, he kept seeing her standing in the shadows, watching him and Nikolai fight the Dark. He’d even briefly contemplated going to her and talking again, but that was a foolish move.
After all, soon, she’d come to kill him.
Or rather try to kill him. He wasn’t going to allow that to happen.
“By the way,” Balladyn said. “Did you ever hear of a Dark Fae named Fintan?”
Ulrik gave a shake of his head. “Who is he?”
“A white-haired Dark.”
“Ah. The most feared assassin Taraeth had. I saw him once, but never knew his name.” Ulrik cocked his head to the side. “I heard Taraeth had him killed.”
Balladyn ran a hand down his face. “If he did, then I talked to another white-haired Fae recently.”
“Oh? Where was this?”
“Galway. He said there’s a Fae named Bran who is building an army.”
This was the first Ulrik had heard anything about this. “Is he right? Is this Bran gathering troops?”
“I continue to have Dark go missing. This white-haired Fae says Bran is the cause. Somehow, this fekker is getting to my people without me knowing.”
Ulrik tugged the cuff of his dress shirt and shifted his shoulders in his suit jacket. “Doona divide your attention. Focus on one problem at a time. We take care of Mikkel, and then I’ll challenge Con.”
“I am focused, but I’m not going to let this problem continue.”
Ulrik knew it was pointless to keep talking to Balladyn about it. “Watch your back.”
“Same to you.”
With a nod, Ulrik pivoted and exited the room. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about the Druid.
So, when he touched the silver cuff on his wrist, it was no surprise that he found himself at Graves.
CHAPTER FOUR
He needed to find her. Ulrik didn’t know why he searched for Eilish, only that the demand consumed him.
Thinking of her thick, dark hair had him searching everywhere for a glimpse of her inside the pub. He explored both floors to no avail. His gaze lifted to the ceiling above him. The building had another floor, and Ulrik suspected that it was her private space. Which meant there was a way to get to it from inside. He just needed to find it.
If it were him, he’d hide the door and stairs so the entrance was difficult to find. Since she’d want it fairly protected, Eilish wouldn’t put the access where anyone could stumble upon it. Which meant it would be somewhere semi-protected.
His eyes slid to the bar. For the next thirty minutes, he studied every angle of it until he found the hidden doorway. He slipped unnoticed through it and then began to ascend the stairs
.
When he reached the top and found the doorway barred with several layers of Druid magic, he smiled.
“Clever,” he murmured.
Her magic was strong enough to keep other Druids and even Fae out. But there was nothing stronger than dragon magic. He was able to get through her spells and open the door without any trouble.
He came to a halt as he looked around the wide space. Closing the door softly, he leaned back against it and saw two other doors, most likely her bedroom and the bathroom. In all the millennia he’d dealt with antiques, he discovered much about a person simply by how they decorated their space.
A lack of adornment could mean the person was a minimalist who enjoyed clean lines. The eccentrics loved anything and everything, never deciding on one type of style.
While there was a myriad of varieties between the two polar opposites, Ulrik’s favorite type of designer was the one who knew what they liked and felt comfortable surrounding themselves with it.
Eilish was exactly that.
The Druid tilted more toward the minimalist side in that there were few decorations about. But there were two things in abundance—books, and plants.
There were a few paintings on the walls, and each was of an Irish landscape, varying in colors and depictions, but they had the common element linking them. One long wall was taken up by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. And each shelf was filled with books.
In fact, there were volumes stacked in other places about the room, as well. He grinned when his gaze slid to the end table beside the sofa that had three titles stacked, with a lamp resting on top.
There was a small table with two chairs close to the kitchen. The only other place to sit was the Chesterfield sofa that had seen many years as evidenced by the creases in the dark brown leather.
There was a book lying on one of the cushions with what looked like a torn piece of paper between the pages marking her spot. Draped on the back of the sofa was a crocheted blanket with ten-inch-long chevrons in a mix of gray, rustic brown, cream, and navy stripes.
Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to find an antique, wool, Tabriz rug. Persian rugs were known for their masterful weave, with each piece having a meaning.
Ulrik walked to the floor covering for a closer look. The allover pattern consisted of many recognizable Oriental motifs such as the lotus flower, palmettes, and even Persian roses called gül in a tonal brown palette with shades of beige and taupe.