Page 33 of The Deep End of Death (Twilight Lake #4)

The race was uneventful.

Tormalugh won, surprising no one.

Perhaps the exhaustion had removed my inner filter, or maybe exasperation at the never-ending vitriol the stone whispered in my ear—growing louder by the minute.

But I was done .

When Tormalugh crossed the finish line, I stood up, waiting for Rainn, Cormac, and Shay to follow, before I marched to the Night King’s booth.

My patience had died. My magic struggled to remain inside my skin so close to water.

My skin hurt, dry enough that even the cold breeze felt like needles across my flesh.

The Night King had procured a fresh glass of wine by the time we reached his throne, unbothered by the results of the race.

I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for his attention. Somehow, the male looked smaller without the throne room around him.

“The bargain is complete.” I declared. “Grant us our leave.”

The Night King ignored us momentarily as he sipped his wine, licked his bottom lip, and placed the glass back on the tray. “Bring me some bread if you would.”

The attendant bowed. “Of course, your majesty.”

The Night King clapped his hands and turned back to the lake. “How severely underwhelming,” He declared, lifting a single finger and twirling it around his head. “ Again !”

The Kelpies, congregating at the finish line, began to move.

Each step was jerky, as their legs moved against their violation like puppets on a string.

Every Kelpie save for Tor wore the same resigned expression, though my Shíorghrá reared back, fighting the Night King’s magic.

Tor’s let out an equine shriek, his dark eyes wild.

“ Tor !” I raced to the edge of the water. “TOR!”

Behind me, the Night King chuckled.

I turned away from the lake. “What have you done?” I snarled—torn between racing to Tor’s aid and attacking the Night King’s pompous face.

“The race isn’t over yet.” The Night King sipped his wine. “The horses do not stop running until their shoes wear out. Only then is the race over.”

“The shoes?” Cormac’s green eyes flashed with a warning. His fingers itched for his blade. “The silver horseshoes?”

“Just so.” The Night King did not drop his genteel smile.

The bugle sounded, and the Kelpies took off from their starting point once more.

“How many races would it take to wear down silver horseshoes?” Rainn knitted his fingers together, worry painted on his face.

“Silver does not rust like iron.” Shay stared out onto the water. “It wears down. Softens and snaps. Though enchanted, I can’t say how many races those shoes will last.”

Every word just stoked my anger.

The Night King spat out his wine, bubbling over the glass, boiling hot.

I turned away from him and stepped towards the water.

The Night King stood up, his tray falling to the ground. “You cannot interrupt a race!” His jovial mask breaking for the first time.

“I’ve had enough of people telling me what to do.” I tilted my nose, looking at the king with contempt.

His magic tried to stop the blood in my veins, stilling my limbs and making me dizzy. The stone reacted before I could, brushing away the attack as if wiping away spider silk.

When I spoke, it was not my voice.

“You may control blood, Créacht Sídhe, but I am water. Water is everything .”

The Night King began to shake, his entire body jerking as the water in his brain, blood, and organs bent to my will. Even bones had blood, and he was my puppet now.

The thunder of Kelpie hooves slowed as the race finished.

“The race is over,” I told the Night King.

His jaw hardened, and his eyes burned into mine with challenge. “I will kill you where you stand, you insolent wretch!” The King said through gritted teeth, unable to move much more.

“Maeve,” Rainn approached cautiously. “As much as I want to rip that cunt from navel to stem, he is the ruler of the Unseelie Kingdom.”

“And the court we live in.” Shay chimed in.

“He wouldn’t be the ruler of anything if she kills him.” Cormac pointed out.

“I doubt we’d be able to leave if we killed him.” Shay chewed his bottom lip.

“Slit his throat.” Cormac urged. “Then the Nymph can seduce the guards. We’ll use the distraction to run away.”

The Night King spluttered, blood bursting from his lips. His guards quickly realized something was wrong. The armored Fae ate up the distance between the benches and the Night King’s booth. I grabbed them with my magic, holding their bodies still with the same ease as holding my breath.

It was easy.

So easy.

So much water inside of them.

“You’ll hang for this!” The Night King’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his words barely came out as a whisper.

The Kelpies had finished the race, waiting on the far side of the lake for their command.

“You will bend.” I snarled. “Shay Mac Eoin is mine. Tormalugh Shadowhock is mine. You cannot have them.”

“The shoes—” One of the guards argued before my magic silenced him.

“I’m hers too!” Rainn slapped his chest, making a declaration to the captive audience.

The other Fae began to whisper, noticing the pause in activities. A few glanced our way, but none of the Sídhe moved to help their king.

The water receded as I pulled it back, allowing it to rear like a spooked horse. I could drown them all with the water in the lake, deeper than it appeared but empty of fae life.

“ Father !” A familiar voice bellowed, and the crowd turned. A lone figure approached from the woodland path, wearing simple clothes. His long red hair was loose and windblown.

Scarred but familiar. Cillian Lane.

“Let them go!” Cillian was out of breath as he approached. “I owe them my life. Those pirates would have sold me to the Hags of Goren if it weren’t for them.”

The Night King gagged.

Cillian shot me a look. “Free him.”

“No.” The water continued to rise.

Cillian Lane paled, licking his lips nervously. “ Please .”

My nostrils flared, and though the stone screamed for me to feed every drop of his blood to the water, I let go—it was difficult. Painful. Like uncurling my hands after holding onto a cliff’s edge.

“Father,” Cillian Lane approached the Night King. “The demons are long dead. This fae, this Nymph, has pale eyes but nothing else. He is not your enemy.”

Finally free of my magic, the Night King slumped in his seat. Blood dripped from his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze shrewd as he stared at me.

I wasn’t sure what he found in my gaze, but he turned his attention to my mates.

“Once the magic of the Tuatha Dé Danann holds them.” The Night King turned his attention to the Princelings as he gestured to me with the tilt of his chin. “They’re never the same. The gods take their bodies and eat away at the person they were. Remember that.”

“I was born this way.” My eyes narrowed.

Cillian Lane stepped between us. “By your leave.” He bowed his head low.

The Night King stared blankly, his gauntlet tapping the armrest of the chair.

For the longest moment, no one spoke.

“Take your Kelpie and go.” The Night King waved a hand, his face unreadable. “You live only by the grace of my youngest son. Remember that.”

I bolted like a frightened child toward the Kelpies further down the shore.

Something had changed. In deep and unknown waters, I was too far from my playful lake. Surrounded by sharks.

I should have told my Shíorghrá about the stone weeks ago but couldn’t utter the words.

The Night King was the ruler of the realm. The holder of the Unseelie Kingdom as well as his court. If we made an enemy of him, the surrounding courts wouldn’t take us in if we had to flee.

I was a fool. An angry child who couldn’t control their emotions. If I ever could.

I had no one to blame but myself.

The Kelpies gathered on the sand, pacing from foot to foot. Tormalugh stepped forward, his head down and his eyes glowing in the dim light. He stomped his hoof, signaling to the shoe on his foot and letting out a sad whinny that broke my heart into several pieces.

The sand sprayed as Rainn, Shay, and Cormac caught up with me.

Out of breath, I gestured to the tree line. “We need to go. Now.”

Tormalugh stomped his foot.

“The shoes.” Cormac fisted his hair in frustration. “For feck's sake, it can never be easy. Can it?”

Cillian Lane sauntered onto the beach, having walked the path, his hands in his pockets as if he had all the time in the court. Tormalugh’s equine muscles bunched, and I recognized the stance. He was getting ready to charge the redheaded Siren.

Shay put his hand out, stepping between Cillian Lane and our Kelpie. “He helped,” Shay explained. “But we have to leave now.”

Tor let out a whinny—he didn’t want to leave, not while wearing the silver shoes. I wouldn’t have wanted to either. Especially if I didn’t know when or if they could be removed by anyone but the Night King’s farrier.

“My father said to accompany you to the Silvers in the guard tower,” Cillian said, gesturing to the stone building at the base of the steps, its pointy roof visible over the treeline. It was a reasonable distance away, and my feet hurt from my shoes.

“Let’s talk about that.” Rainn put his hand on his hip. “Your father. Your father . Dear ole papa—King of the Night Court!” His voice lifted so high that birds took off from the surrounding trees.

Cillian flashed him a serene smile, his lip and cheek marked by a white scar from the guard's blade. He had been hurt, trying to help us. The prison sentence of Shane O’Brian Bryn suddenly made sense.

The guard had scarred a prince and paid the price for it.

The special treatment, the suite, and the food.

All of the pieces slid into place with a click.

“The pirates?” I asked.

Cillian shrugged. “There is a bounty on my return. The pirates grew overzealous at the prospect of ransoming the youngest son of the Night King. But by all means, let’s argue about omissions of truth instead of getting the feck out of here .”

“He’s right.” Shay pressed, walking backward to the treeline, eying the Night King on the other side of the lake. How long would it take before the monarch changed his mind and sent guards after us?

Tor stomped his foot again.

Cillian growled in frustration and pushed his way forward, tapping the back of his hand against the horse’s rump—Tor’s long neck snapped to the side as he tried to bite the Sídhe, but Cillian Lane danced out of the way.

Kelpies had sharp teeth, and Tor would no doubt take a chunk out of the redhead if he managed to bite him.

Tor cantered forward, and the silver shoes fell off, left behind in the sand. Our Kelpie took another step before turning to the other dark horses on the beach.

“The others?” I guessed, turning to Cillian Lane. My expression beseeching.

“You’re treading a thin line.” Cillian Lane warned.

“You know what it’s like to be a prisoner.” Shay urged. “Do the right thing.”

Cillian let out a frustrated groan. “The King is going to kill me.” He muttered as he moved toward the water-horses.

Each of the Kelpies shifted, frightened, as they shied away from the Night Prince.

Cillian slapped their rumps, and their shoes fell off.

“My mate told me it was a bad idea to return to the Night Court. But did I listen? No.” Cillian grumbled to himself.

“Let’s go!” Cormac started toward the path.

“They’re not shifting forms.” Shay pointed out, gesturing to the water horses. “They won’t fit through the Silver on four legs.”

“They’ll be faster on the other path,” Cillian said. “North of the valley. That path leads to the Dark Sea and the Twilight Lake.”

“Tor?” I whispered.

My Kelpie stepped back, and I heard him loud and clear. “I can’t leave them.” When had I last heard his voice in my mind? Had I shielded from his thoughts by protecting myself from the ugliness of the stone?

I darted forward, wrapping my arms around my Kelpie’s neck. “Be safe,” I told him. “I’ll meet you back at the Reeds once this is all done.”

Tor let out a questioning whinny, and I pressed my forehead to his.

“I’ll be back to normal then,” I whispered as a plan formed in my mind. “Go.” I stepped back, giving Tor space as he reared back and took off at a run.

The other Kelpies, spooked, followed him. The thunder of their hooves was so loud that the world seemed to shake.

The Night King had noticed something was wrong.

The guards began to shout as we made for the treeline as fast as our legs could carry us.