“Yes. Mother, this is Bran.” Lachlan nodded at the golden-haired Fae and Bran took Lachlan’s mother’s offered hand and bowed over it gallantly.
“Lady Isella,” he said formally. “I have often wished to meet you.”
“You are a good friend to Lachlan,” she said, smiling sadly. “I wish I could have met you before, but I understood why Lachlan couldn’t bring you to our home.” She looked at me. “But who is this beautiful young lady?”
“This is Emma,” Lachlan said, nodding at me. “She is the heir to both the Winter Court and the Summer Court.”
“Her parents were Prince Tarren and Princess Lorella,” Bran supplied.
“Ah—an heir has been found! No wonder all the nobles of note were summoned to the palace!” Lady Isella exclaimed. She took both my hands in hers and smiled brightly at me. Then she drew me in for a hug.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I said, as our cheeks touched. I was expecting some kind of social nicety in return but instead, Lady Isella whispered in my ear,
“Be careful, my dear! I fear that you are in terrible danger.”
“What?” I looked at her uncertainly as we drew apart.
“I think I hear my husband coming, but I would love to get to know you and have more time with my son,” she said, smiling as though she hadn’t just given me a warning. “May I come to your suite tonight so that we can spend more time together?”
“Oh, of course.” I nodded, still not sure what to make of all this.
“Father is here?” Lachlan was instantly on the alert. “I thought he was dead!”
“I’m afraid not.” Lady Isella shook her head. “One of his heads survived the beating that Fae warrior gave him. It’s probably better he doesn’t see you, dear,” she added anxiously.
But it was too late. At that moment, a huge, shambling shape came around the corner and glared at all three of us.
87
The ogre was ten feet tall and it had rough, warty greenish-brown skin and two heads, just as Lachlan had told me. But one of the heads was clearly dead and rotting.
It slumped on the ogre’s broad shoulder, its eyes half-open and staring sightlessly at the ceiling. The skin of the dead head had gone greyish and there was a smell like spoiled meat coming from it. A huge gash right down the middle of its face clearly showed how it had died—there were flies buzzing around the massive wound.
“What’s this?” it growled, glaring down at the three of us. Then its eyes focused on Bran. “Gods of the Deep Dark—it’s the Fae bastard who killed my best head!”
Bran shot a look at Lachlan.
“You never told me,” he muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on the long silver sword.
“I couldn’t. I was ashamed.” Lachlan shook his head, his emerald eyes—so like his mother’s—shadowed with pain.
It was hard to believe the ogre was his father. They looked absolutely nothing alike. Lachlan had his mother’s eyes but nothing at all from his hideous father—well, except for the dark half of his soul, I supposed.
“You’ll die for what you did to me,” the ogre growled, glaring down at Bran. “And maybe I’ll kill that worthless whelp of mine into the bargain!” He pointed at Lachlan.
“No, Grund—please!” Lachlan’s mother, Lady Isella, put herself between her massive husband and her son. “Please, leave Lachlan alone! What happened to your other head isn’t his fault!”
“The little traitor led that Summer Court bastard right to me!” Lachlan’s father rumbled. He had a spiked club on one massive shoulder which I hadn’t noticed before—probably because I had been staring morbidly at his dead head. Now he swung it down, gripping it in both huge hands. It looked like it was made of an entire tree, but the enormous ogre handled it with ease.
“Get out of the way, Mother!” Lachlan exclaimed as Bran stepped forward, his sword gleaming in the dim light. Our guide, the little old lady, was cowering against the wall, a frightened look on her wrinkled face.
“No—leave them alone, Grund!” Lady Isella refused to budge.
“I don’t want to have to kill you,” Lachlan said to his father. “Patricide is a heavy sin—it will stain my soul. But I can’t let you hurt my friend or the female I love. And you’ve already hurt Mother enough,” he added darkly.
“I’ll kill you all!” the ogre roared, rage flashing in the squinty eyes of his still-living head. It was lumpish and misshapen and its teeth, when it bared them, were grey and rotten. I could well believe the dead one has been better.
All this time, I had just been standing there, not sure of what to do. But now I realized that if somebody didn’t do something quickly, we were about to have mortal combat right here in the middle of the hallway and I doubted it would end before somebody died.