The Iron Crown (The Darkest Court)

And, as if he hasn’t completely upended my world, he leans back in his chair and says, “We need to discuss what’s coming.”

“Oh?”

“There may be attempts on my life. On Lugh’s. The old ways have been twisted to meet other needs and some forget the respect certain offices deserve.”

“It’s forbidden to shed blood here,” I say. “What do you expect me to do?”

“Rebuild his legend,” Aage says. “Tell stories about his accomplishments. Force them to remember what Lugh i

s capable of.”

“He’ll buck against shifting the attention to him. He won’t want to undermine you or distract people from the purpose of the Assembly,” I point out.

“Swaying public opinion before our meeting is beneficial to me. I have never made a secret of my trust in the Horned King or his work throughout the Wylds. If you can secure a higher opinion of Lugh’s work, my own reputation will benefit.” He grins, and for a moment, he’s young again, wearing the expression he had riding beside me and Lugh into battle against some new creature. “I’m not completely selfless, Keiran. Will you do this for me? For him?”

I hope I hide my fear about what my failure may cost them both when I answer, “As my thegn commands.”

Chapter Sixteen

Keiran

By the time we’ve finished talking and planning for tonight’s feast, it’s mid-afternoon. Aage’s quiet as we walk, which I appreciate. It’s hard to recite tales when I’m lost in my own head. The words slip away, replaced with new truths that ring through my mind and demand my full attention. Queen Mab is not here. Her threats cannot stop me from declaring my feelings to Lugh.

Before I can stop myself, I’m asking a question I’ve never dared utter aloud because I fear the answer so deeply. “What if he doesn’t want me?”

Aage doesn’t seem surprised by the question. He isn’t gentle or bracing either. “You will never know unless you ask him,” he says.

I want to shrink away and finally breathe with relief at the same time. If he had tried to placate me with kind words about my worth, I wouldn’t have believed him. If he had tried to speak for Lugh, I would have discounted him. Instead this—this blunt reminder that I am responsible for my own fate—is exactly what I need to hear. I wonder if he’s had this very conversation before with Breoca or Liv, and if he ever dreamed his life would be so blessed by the answer he received.

We’ve reached the midpoint of the hall when a clamor from outside reaches us. The rise and fall of boisterous voices echo into this space, dancing up to the rafters before swooping down again when contented laughter breaks through. I listen for the peal of Lugh’s voice, but don’t hear him.

“The hunt must have gone well,” Aage muses.

“Gods willing,” I agree, eager to reach them.

I must do a poor job of hiding it because Aage chuckles and gestures toward the door. “Let’s see what they’ve brought us.”

We find the hunters surrounded by other retainers and workers, who’ve taken a break to hear about the hunt. Aage chats and jokes as he examines the kills. Two deer, a handful of game birds, and about ten different stories about who missed the biggest animal. I kneel and brush my hand over the deer’s pelt, sending up a quick prayer of gratitude for its sacrifice. All around me, the crowd mingles, their voices overlapping until I can’t hear anything through the cacophony. I catch bits and pieces of conversations, but none of them mention Lugh or the Wild Hunt.

And then from my side, Aage tells me quietly, “Poet, the seidhr has returned,” and I can’t control how fast my head whips up to search the crowd.

I find him without thought and discover Lugh’s found me too. He stands in the afternoon sun, face split with a wide grin, and I can’t look away. Can’t breathe. Under the illusion of his glamour, dirt smudges his cheeks. Tousled hair the color of fallen leaves hangs about his face in sweaty strands. His shirt is torn and dark blood stains the fabric. His shoulders are broad and strong, bunched with muscle after years of brawls and fights. The pale deerskin of his pants clings to his legs, wrinkling as he strides toward us.

I’ve fought at his side almost my entire life and today, with Aage’s counsel still twisting through my thoughts, I realize this is the first time I’ve ever seen him. It lances me with a desire I can’t deny. He’s there, right there in front of me and my entire body burns with need; I can’t move for fear of giving that fire away.

“What did you find today?” Aage asks.

Lugh gestures behind him and I finally notice Drest, the poor bastard, bowed under the weight of a massive stag. A few others help him drop it to the ground and everyone circles closer, eager to hear the story. Lugh ignores them, handing off the moment to Drest, and looks between Aage and me. “The gods blessed us with a fine kill,” he says. “Should help feed this rabble.”

“Indeed, it should,” Aage says. “Don’t you agree, Keiran?” He starts when he finds me still crouched on the ground.

“Yes,” I croak. “Well done.”

I force myself to rise. A tiny smile plays over Aage’s mouth and his eyes are soft in the way I imagine my brother’s eyes would have been if he were alive to offer me counsel.

“Keiran will inform you about tomorrow’s proceedings,” Aage says to Lugh. “I’m sure there’s much he wants to discuss with you.”

He crosses the space between us and reaches up to clasp my shoulders.