Page 22 of The Deep End of Death (Twilight Lake #4)

Though the Night Court never truly saw the sun, the depth of the darkness changed enough to signal when time had passed.

The Twilight Lake was named for its proximity to the Day Court. Enough sunlight would leak through to mark the dawn and dusk, bathing the horizon in an orange glow and staining the darkness to a purple wash.

Murk, the village on the edge of the Dark Sea, was aptly named. Save for the thick mists that hid the town from the water, and vice versa, every building was a lifeless grey—as if vitality had been leeched from the very soul of the place.

A dull ache claimed my blood and bones. I could feel Shay through the brand on my chest, though the emotions were muted—as if he was hiding his feelings on purpose.

Either that or the jail had a ward thick enough to discourage even a mating bond.

The guards had taken Shay by force. Blinded us with magic that tasted of rot and bile.

Rainn had faired the worst. He was immune to whatever magic the guards had wielded and tried to stop them—gaining bruises and a foul cut on his temple before being knocked out.

Once the shadows had cleared, Rainn, Tor, Cormac, and I had run through the streets of Murk, only to have the jail doors slammed in our faces.

All because of his colorful eyes.

None of it made any sense.

I had read the histories. The demons had left the Aos Sí and returned wherever they came from.

The Night of a Thousand Fires.

Destruction born of fear.

Shay hadn’t done anything.

I growled in frustration, my fists clenched by my side.

Rainn nursed his bruised cheek, his eye swollen closed, from where one of the guards had struck him with the flat of his sword.

Cormac brushed his hands down the front of his tunic, loosening a put-upon sigh.

Tor’s dark eyes were calculating as he searched the wood for weaknesses.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Cormac stretched his arms over his head. “There’s a thick glamour on that door, hiding all manner of traps.”

“We can’t just stand here,” Tor growled in frustration.

“They won’t kill him.” Rainn cut in, still nursing his injured face. “The Dark King has a monopoly on demons,” Rainn gestured towards me with his chin. “Isn’t that what Captain Hallow said?”

“Yes.” My fists clenched. “But, what if they hurt him?”

My skin smelt like Shay. Like wood smoke, moss, and sea salt.

“What do we do ?” I whispered.

“Bring the force of the Dark Sea onto their doorstep,” Tormalugh suggested lightly, studying the door. “Burst them, like the Thiggen.”

Yes. Yes. YES !

“Let’s call that plan B.” Rainn winced in pain when he tried to smile.

“We should find a place to sleep,” Cormac suggested. “Some food.”

“It is hard to think on an empty stomach,” Rainn admitted reluctantly.

“You and your fecking stomachs.” Tor snarled.

Is that why it took so long to rescue you from the High Throne? A nasty voice whispered in my ear. Were they so focused on filling their bellies and warming their cocks they didn’t spare a thought as you bled on the throne?

You are the throne ! I wanted to scream.

I bit back the words, tightening my jaw hard enough to make my back teeth ache.

I clasped my chest, feeling for the bond between Shay and I. He was safe. Calm. Feeling his emotions and knowing he was relatively safe was the only thing stopping me from bringing a wave down onto the town.

Rainn put his hand on my shoulder. It took more strength than I would admit to meet his eyes. “We’ll get him out,” Rainn assured me. “We just need a plan.”

I nodded, the lump in my throat stealing my words.

The four of us turned to the steps, ready to leave, at least for now.

My feet were too heavy.

From consummating my Shíorghrá bond with Shay, a moment of joy had turned to another kick in the teeth.

If I didn't know better, I would think the gods were playing with me.

The seaside village of Murk was truly fitting of its name.

The buildings hid beyond a thick shield of mist, making what lay beyond each cobbled street impossible to see. It seemed our arrival had not gone unnoticed, and Shay’s arrest had made the warm reception we had previously received turn cold.

Shutters slammed down on shop windows, and vendors pulled their wares from their tables as we walked past. The chill from the sea lingered between the buildings, but I sensed that the absence of fae on the street had nothing to do with the temperature.

I was used to frigid water, but when my scales disappeared above the surface, I felt the cold in a way I wasn’t used to.

Guilt twisted my stomach for wanting a warm bed and some sleep while Shay was trussed up like a lobster in a cage. I couldn’t do much with a brain muddled by exhaustion.

The sea was no longer visible, shielded by the looming grey buildings that grew closer and closer together as if forming a wall between the town and the woods beyond.

I wasn’t sure I would even know what an inn looked like, with my limited experience of the world outside of the lake.

“Is that an inn?” Rainn lifted a finger, gesturing to a strangely colorful building at the end of the lane.

The upper floors were masked with fabric on the outside, showing sigils I didn’t recognize as they fluttered in the wind.

Pillars lined the lower floor, painted crimson red with golden accents.

“That’s a brothel,” Tor said, brushing a snowflake from his shoulder.

“A brothel?” Cormac perked up.

“The man with the harem wants to visit a brothel.” Rainn rolled his eyes. “How predictable.”

“The Tarsainn harem belongs to my father.” Cormac narrowed his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re not a Nymph?” Rainn probed.

Cormac scoffed. “I just want a warm bed.”

“With someone in it,” Tor added in a droll tone.

My stomach twisted, and my mouth turned sour. Bothered by the conversation, though I couldn’t pinpoint why. Cormac and I weren’t lovers. We weren’t even friends.

“The brothel is the only building that hasn’t locked its doors the moment we stepped on the street.” I pointed out, knitting my fingers together.

“You’re right.” Tor frowned, eying the fluttering fabric curtains. “The House of Blissful Dreams.” He read the unfamiliar markings. “At least that means they have beds.”

Cormac snorted derisively. “House of Blissful Dreams? I’d wager those whores don’t let their customers sleep for even a minute.”

“We can’t be picky,” I told them. “Maybe they’ll have some information. Women gossip. Don’t they?”

“You’re a woman.” Cormac’s eyes flicked down my body as if I wasn’t aware.

I lifted a brow. “Am I? I hadn’t noticed.”

“I agree with Maeve.” Rainn lifted his hand.

“Seconded.” Tor cut in.

Cormac lifted his hands in a disarming fashion. “I’m not arguing.”

With a shrug, we ducked under the balcony of the upper floor. The front door was ostentatiously large, painted gold with several patches worn where patrons had pushed against the wood.

No one came to greet us, but the sounds of joviality leaked through the door and coaxed us inside.

The only tavern I’d ever seen belonged to the inn on the shores of the lake. I’d been mistaken for a whore then, but there was no way that would happen now.

I wore men’s clothing, a tunic, and leggings with bare feet. The clothes were torn, damp, and tinged pink with Thiggen blood.

Rainn, Tor, and Cormac hadn’t fared much better, though their clothes had been of better quality to start with.

The chatter didn’t so much as pause as we walked into the brothel.

The lower levels were packed with tables painted in bright reds and gold, much like the outside of the building.

The tables were low to the ground and surrounded by cushions. Glass lanterns acted as centerpieces, lit with candles instead of faelight.

Though each table sported an attractive female Fae, dressed in finery and sipping from the same cups as the patrons, there was nothing untoward on display—I’d expected some nudity at least, not that I had experience with brothels. But the place was clean, and the patrons were well-behaved.

A female Sídhe with pointed ears and a crown of braids danced forward. The sleeves of her gown billowed like the wings of a raven taking flight. Her face was freckled but not unattractive. Her eyes were wide, and her smile bright as she welcomed us like old friends.

“Table for four?” She flashed a canine tooth. “Would you like a night of blissful dreams or a drink to start?”

“If by blissful dreams, you mean a bed, then by all means,” Rainn muttered.

Tor shot him a glare. “A drink, for now.”

The server turned on her heel, revealing her bare back in her gown. Two gossamer ribbons hung from her shoulder blades. One ribbon twitched as it brushed against a passing customer, and I realised they were fragile and translucent wings.

I’d never seen a pixie before—judging by the pinkish tint to her hair and skin. Pixies often took their color based on their diet. From berries to sweet flowers, they avoided meat and fish. Moira, my friend back in Cruinn had told me all about them—enamored by the idea of wings.

I thanked Belisama that Moira was safe, with the Sirens.

The pixie led us to a table, fluffing the cushions before gesturing for us to sit.

“I’ll get your drinks.” The server brushed her fingertips against the top of her breasts. “There’s a roster on the table if you desire the company of a specific courtesan.”

“Just some wine.” My smile was tight.

The server tipped her head, drifting away.

I tapped my fingers against the low table, studying my surroundings. The cushion cocooned itself around my body with a warmth I lacked. It would have been easy enough to fall asleep where I sat, but Shay’s captivity pressed on my mind enough to keep me awake.

The others weren’t faring much better. Rainn’s blue eyes were ringed with dark circles. Tor’s usual impassive expression had been replaced by a dull, far-away stare as if he was asleep with his eyes open.

The only person seemingly unbothered by exhaustion was Cormac, busy dolling out winks and grins to any passing female.