Page 71

Lorcan looked much like a spoiled prince, lounging across the Oak Throne.

One foot braced over the wooden armrest. His head in his hand propped up by his elbow.

A navy three-piece suit draped across his powerful figure.

All he was missing was the crown slipping over his brow to complete the modern Renaissance painting.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” Kierse said as she stepped into the room.

Lorcan sighed heavily before glancing up at her. “Are you mocking me?”

“Would such a visage deserve mocking?”

“And what visage is that?”

“A king sitting upon his throne,” she said, gesturing to him as she stepped up to the dais. “All you need is the crown.”

Lorcan swirled his fingers in front of him.

The golden glow of his magic materialized as he spoke a few indistinguishable words.

The scent of summer rain and sunshine hit her afresh as the glow solidified into a crown made of magic.

Something solid and yet insubstantial. Ephemeral and molten.

It was a shiny gold piece interwoven in intricate Irish knots.

He lifted the piece to his brow where it fit her pretty picture perfectly.

She smirked. “There it is. I’ll remember you like this forever.”

He gestured flippantly. “As a king?”

“Irreverent.”

He made a second circle, breathing life into a second crown. This one much smaller and almost dainty, yet powerful. It was a mirror to the first, with the same knots throughout. He held the second piece in his hand. “Then I would need an irreverent queen.”

She laughed. “Could you imagine me in a crown?”

He stood smoothly and took the step down the dais. She froze under those crystal-clear eyes as he settled the second crown easily into her dark hair.

“It suits you.”

She removed it, running her thumbs over the intricate metal work. “How’d you do it?”

“Magic is easier right now,” he said with a shrug. “Give it a day and I’ll be scrounging for summer magic.”

She’d been ignoring the approaching solstice, uncertain what exactly was going to happen this year. She didn’t want to ask. She didn’t want to know. And yet she couldn’t.

“How does it normally work? The Oak and Holly King battle. Are you always together?”

“No. Almost never. The magic releases and one of us is weakened regardless of whether the fight is physical.”

“I’ve read all the books about it,” Kierse said. “The scant few I could get my hands on, at least. They didn’t really explain how this started.”

Lorcan turned back toward the throne. “That is a story for another day, I’m afraid. I don’t have the patience for it today.”

“Is the Oak Throne also part of being the Oak King?” she asked, staring up at the massive thing.

“No. I was the Oak King first,” Lorcan told her. “The throne is for the ruler of the Druids. Only I can sit on it.” His eyes flicked back to her. “And my queen.”

“So why aren’t you in Dublin, then?” She glanced up at the throne. “Why isn’t the tree in Dublin?”

Lorcan flicked his eyes to her. “You know why.”

Graves. He was here to watch the Holly King.

He sank back into the throne, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring down at her with those imperious eyes. “And why are you here? Don’t you have a big party tomorrow?”

Why was she even surprised that he knew?

“Yes, I’m aware you’re going after the cauldron,” he said with a shrug. “I won’t interfere. Though you shouldn’t give it to him. As if that really needs to be said.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Last I checked, I don’t take orders.”

“I wasn’t giving any. I know what he wants from the cauldron, what he wanted from the spear, what the sword refused him.”

Kierse refused to be baited. “Do you keep the sword in that vault? Is that why you showed it to me?”

“Would I be that stupid?”

“Yes,” she teased.

He leaned backward, smirking. He draped his hands over the armrests, and now he looked every inch the Oak King. As if he might crumble mountains with a look and bring her to her knees with a second. “Go open it and find out.”

“Another day, perhaps.”

“Looking forward to it.”

He returned to his slumped position, lying across the throne as if it weren’t full of magic and sacred to his people.

She should have walked away then. Let him mope, or whatever was going on with him. But her feet carried her up the dais, where she set the golden crown down on the armrest.

“What’s going on with you?” she asked.

“Are you suggesting that you care?”

“I’m the only one here.”

He laughed sardonically. “Ringing endorsement.”

Kierse couldn’t help it; she smiled. A real smile. It was like seeing behind the curtain. For the first time, he wasn’t showing her the smooth and suave leader of the Druidic Order. He wasn’t trying to seduce her or win her over. He was irritated and a little petulant. She kind of liked it.

He glanced up at her as if he could sense her change in mood. “You actually want to know?”

“I guess I do,” she told him.

“There was a troll revolt today. The trolls all abandoned their posts in the subway at once. The entire group of them worked as one and left. Men of Valor logos were spray-painted over a ton of the entrances. The whole time it’s been quiet in the streets, they’ve been consolidating power in the background. ”

“I saw the spray paint and a missing troll at the 72nd entrance,” Kierse said as she tried to comprehend it.

Trolls were singular in nature. They rarely, if ever , worked as a unit.

It was why each of the various gangs had been able to have a different troll guarding their entrances. “So the trolls are where, then?”

“No one knows, but I would wager they’re working with the Men of Valor now.”

“What are they hoping to gain? The end of the Treaty?”

Lorcan nodded. “That was always their aim. There’s a convocation coming up to discuss the Treaty, and delegates from each side are going. Apparently two are chosen at the Monster Con this weekend. I would bet good money that they’re putting their representative up then.”

Kierse’s head swam. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. So that was what I was dealing with while you were gone.”

“Are you coming to the conference, then?”

“Yes,” he said flatly.

She needed to get home. Graves likely already knew this, but it was going to change things for the heist.

“I need to make sure that my people will survive the fall out,” Lorcan said, his finger slipping into the center of her crown and swirling it in a circle. “The last thing I want is another war.”

“Same.”

“So, if you need to go, then you should go. I have shit to do.”

But she physically couldn’t move. The connection in this room was almost overwhelming. She had been trying to ignore it while they talked, but there was no denying that she felt rooted to the ground.

When she didn’t leave, Lorcan’s gaze shifted up to her again. “What is that look?”

“I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged. “You’re not trying so hard.”

Lorcan lifted an eyebrow. “Are you saying you…like me more like this?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He shifted to sitting again. “You do.”

She bit her lip. “I mean, you were intolerable when you were trying to win me over.”

“I just needed to be an asshole this whole time?”

“As if you could be an asshole,” she said with a laugh.

“Hmm,” he said and then stood from the throne.

He took a step toward her, bridging the distance smoothly, his frame towering over her.

The crown was still in his hand, and he set it on her head.

The weight was almost a comfort. It had been made for her, after all.

His hand moved to her chin, tilting her head up.

She shivered under that gaze, the touch igniting under her skin.

“Do you feel that?”

“The…the magic?” she breathed.

“ Our magic,” he told her. “My chuisle mo chroí.”

Between one breath and the next, his mouth landed on hers.

Her head went fuzzy at the contact. She couldn’t think or move or breathe for anything except him.

His other hand wrapped around her back, crushing her against his chest. His lips were warm and pliant, and as he slid his tongue in her mouth, she tasted summer heat.

She was frozen there in the midst of that kiss. Her mind still under the weight of their soulmate bond and her body reacting to the connection with more . She didn’t know which way was up and which was down. She couldn’t begin to process how she even felt about it.

Intense. Compulsive. Complicated. Painful. Wanton. Frustrating.

The words came to her unbidden from a memory that she could barely grasp onto.

But they explained it perfectly. The physical intimacy was almost too much.

It nearly tore her apart. It made her want to rip her clothes off and have sex right there on that throne.

But it was complicated and frustrating, and she shouldn’t do this. She shouldn’t want to do this.

Her fingers tangled in his suit coat as he tilted her body, aching for deeper access. He groaned into her mouth as everything intensified. Until their magic swirled all around them. A cloud of golden light that circled and circled like a mini tornado in the center of this sacred space.

There was no right or wrong. No good or evil. Only this connection burrowing down between them and attaching tethering hooks to their souls. The perfect one made for the other. Two matching crowns of gold.

Binding.

The word came out of the abyss.

There was a binding ceremony. And she had to agree to it for it to happen. Only…only was this her agreeing?

Because she didn’t agree. She couldn’t agree. There was a reason for that.

She wracked her mind, trying to find the reason in her brain, but there was nothing there. Just this room and Lorcan and this kiss.

Then she felt a familiar memory, one she had gone over again and again and again. She opened a vault and closed it. Opened it and closed it. Open and close. Until that was all she saw and knew. The rest slipped away.

And she was inside her head, separate from her body. She remembered everything.

Kierse pulled herself away.

“No,” she said as the connection abruptly severed and the crown slipped from her head.

Lorcan’s pupils were blasted out, and he looked ravenous. “Did you just…feel that?”

“You were in my head.”

“You were in mine,” he countered. “We were connecting even without the ceremony.”

“That wasn’t the ceremony?”

He shook his head, visibly stunned. “It was just that intense.”

“I can’t do this.”

His gaze shuttered. “This?”

“Whatever this is.” She took another step backward. “I can’t do it.”

“Everything says otherwise.”

Her arms wrapped around her middle. She couldn’t stomach what had just happened. It wasn’t that it had felt wrong, but that it had felt right. Like the most-right thing in the entire world. Which made her wary. Things that looked too good to be true usually were.

Not to mention Graves.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly and meant it.

“Is this because of him?”

“Yes,” she told him truthfully. “I should go.”

She turned to leave, but he followed her down the dais and across the moss-carpeted ground.

“He’s doing it again,” Lorcan said with a snarl. “He’s ruining it like he did with Emilie.”

“He’s not doing anything. I’m making a choice that Emilie wasn’t allowed to make.” She reached for the door handle. Lorcan slammed his hand onto the door before she could leave.

“Emilie didn’t make any choices, because he killed her.”

Kierse shot him a pained look. “I’m sorry about your sister. That doesn’t change what happened between us.”

“I suppose it doesn’t.” He loomed over her, and she lifted her chin, meeting his look with a dark one of her own. “But I’m certainly not going to sit around and wait for him to kill you, too.”

“He’s not the same person he was when you first knew him.”

“No, he’s worse,” Lorcan argued. “When I first met him, he was as close to me as a brother. Now, he’s a fucking monster.”

“We’re all monsters,” she told him. “Now, let me leave.”

Lorcan’s arm dropped from the door. She wrenched it open, and he reached for her instead. “Hey.”

“Lorcan…” she said, retreating to that place in her mind. Fear that she’d lose control again coursing through her.

“Just…be careful. Okay?”

She nodded once and then slipped through the door.