Page 18 of The Dark Will Fall (Twilight Lake #5)

Liam Cruinn

Liam did not dare argue when the royal advisor came to his rooms, demanding his presence in the early hours of the morning.

As a youngling, he had been jealous of Maeve’s summons, but now, in the same boat, he found himself filled with dread.

Liam had seen the High Throne.

He knew Cruinn ‘s dark secret.

His mother had all but ignored him since she had threatened to raise Scylla—the beast with a dozen mouths.

He hadn’t been allowed out of his rooms and had no way of sending a missive to anyone in the Dark Sea.

All he could do was listen to gossip when the servers brought his food or delivered the soap-silt for bathing.

Whispers about his mother, coming apart at the seams.

Cruinn was used to insanity. The Mad Queen had been given the name for a reason.

Liam wanted to open his window and scream to the city below. To run. To fight.

But every time the thought occurred to him, he realized that the Undine were probably safer in the city, protected by his mother and her magic.

He’d been thankful for the time alone, honestly. Without his mother commanding him all over the castle or attending endless dinners to entertain the Esteemed Undine Court, he had finally found his magic—much to his own consternation.

Liam Cruinn had believed he would be a Troid Sídhe, but it seemed his Abyssal bloodline was too strong to be beaten. His maternal family were Weavers after all.

His nameless father had been a Troid Sídhe, and that was the only information he knew about him. The discovery of his Weaver abilities was a finality that he hadn’t expected.

Douglas Dougall had been King Irvine’s chief advisor, and a general in the King’s army—though the Sídhe seemed happy enough to play courier.

Liam did not dare ask where they were headed, as the advisor led him through the castle to the stables.

It was the dead of night, and not even the moon pierced the lake’s surface. His eyes struggled to focus without the faelight of the castle, but Dougall steered him through the stable doors and then left without a word.

Liam was alone, save for the rows and rows of enchanted steeds.

As a youngling, Liam had hoped he would have a steed of his own. A Bubble-mare or Reed-steed. Something to ride to the front lines.

Now, the idea filled him with dread.

He didn’t hear her come in.

One moment, he was alone, eying the enchanted horses through the open stall doors, and the next, his mother breathed down his neck.

Elaine Cruinn seemed to be changing by the day, but Liam did not dare say so.

His mother had once been very concerned about her appearance. Her dresses and hair, just so, but since Maeve had left for the Dark Sea, something had snapped.

Elaine no longer wore any sort of genteel mask. No smiles or pleasant nods.

Instead, it was as if a shark had crawled under her skin. Liam could see the cool, detached darkness in her eyes, and he did not like it.

She used to hide it much better.

Liam cleared his throat. “Hello, mother.” He bowed his head. “You had need of me.”

Elaine scoffed. “Need is a strong word.”

Liam said nothing.

“The Mer. Illfinn. He has neglected to answer my missives. He has refused to check in and inform me of their journey.” Elaine sniffed and tilted her head pompously. “It's left me rather peeved.”

Liam knew his mother’s anger was not something to be joked about, even if she used such a light word as ‘peeved’.

“Perhaps they have run into trouble.” Liam offered. “You sent Scylla to the sirens. Perhaps the beast was too hungry to resist.”

Elaine waved his statement away. “The Mer needs a lesson in defiance.”

“A lesson.” Liam echoed.

Elaine nodded staunchly. “Find a steed. We shall ride to Tarsainn.”

Liam tried to swallow around the lump in his throat.

Her lips pulled into a disturbing grin. “It’s time you saw firsthand what it means to rule.”

A shelf of land extended between Cruinn and Tarsainn, though they shared the south of the lake.

Growing up, Liam had heard all sorts of stories.

The caves between the two cities were known as the End of Sorrow. A place where it was easy to get lost, and easier still to perish at the hands of the monstrous eels that made the tunnels their home.

Rumor had it that the caves had been mapped many years before. The information was only available to trusted merchants or members of the inner court.

Before the Frosted Sands, when he had spent more time with the royal guard in the barracks, hoping that he too would become a Troid Sídhe, Liam had joined their patrol.

The openings in the sheer cliff face made the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.

He remembered the feeling well, and it returned full force as they approached the caves.

His mother had brought a single escort. Oisin—one of the Troid Sídhe. A palace guard Liam had once considered a friend. A gossip if there ever was one.

His mother was putting on a show, but he had no idea who the intended audience was.

His mother had chosen bubble-mares for their journey—enchanted horses used to quickly rise to the surface. A quick getaway.

“Oisin, could you go further ahead?” His mother smiled demurely to the guard. “I wish to have a word with my son.”

Oisin dipped his head. “Yes, your majesty.”

His mother stared intently at the caves, as if waiting for something to happen. Her brow furrowed and her lip pursed. She did not break her gaze as she spoke.

“Do you remember the story I told you, about your father?” She said lightly.

“Calder Drip,” Liam answered quickly. The name had never been far from his thoughts since he had learned it as a child. “He died.”

“He was murdered.” Elaine spat. “By The Mad Queen. His body was stolen by her selfishness.”

Liam bit his tongue.

Elaine shook her head, twitching as her face contorted, seemingly in pain. “Elaine tried to kill herself, you know. When she discovered she was with child. She rode all the way to these caves, determined to end her life.”

Elaine ? He wondered. Aren’t you, Elaine ?

As if she read his mind, his mother’s dark eyes flicked to his, and he felt his stomach drop. His body seemed to tumble as if falling from a great height, though he couldn’t move a muscle. Her face warped, but his eyes struggled to focus.

He was frightened of his mother.

“Elaine found him in the caves. A lonely shadow. He promised that she would have her revenge against The Mad Queen—Belisama, in mortal flesh—in exchange for her body.” His mother continued. “Balor, of the Tuatha Dé Danann, exiled, needed a vessel. I needed someone to help me raise my army.”

The pronoun shift did not escape Liam’s notice.

“Balor?” He whispered.

His mother’s head snapped to the side, answering the call. “Your mother died before you were born. I carried you. I birthed you, and I gave you the blood of the Tuatha Dé Danann, Liam Cruinn.”

His unease caused the enchanted horse between his legs to shift uncomfortably. “What do you want from me?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

Balor, wearing his mother’s face, seemed pleased about the question. “We are going to reduce Tarsainn to rocks and sludge.”