What could she possibly want now? Phillip was gone. Bianca and Reeona had been saved from the grasp of Riathan, the Lord of the Court of Tears.
Her gaze drifted, unbidden, to the man on her left.
“So?” Lorcan prodded, a note of impatience in his voice.
“I’ll claim my reward when the time is right,” she responded.
Lorcan glanced to her side. “You’ve found what you were seeking, Lord Kieran.”
“Indeed,” The Lord of the Court of Fear agreed. “Tara, it’s time to go back,” he told her, offering his hand. His words hinted at a home she’d never known.
A realm that hadn’t witnessed her growing up. Where her mother had passed away. Kieran’s hand was the gateway to all her unanswered questions.
She turned to Sorana. “Until we meet again, demoness.”
“Don’t forget your promise, fae.” Sorana’s lips curved into a half-smile, drawing curious looks from the others. They didn’t understand the promise they were discussing.
Tara accepted Kieran’s hand.
In an instant, she found herself in a grand hall. It was magnificent, unlike anything she’d ever seen. Magic was palpable in the air. Like tiny flecks of silver and amber.
For a fleeting moment, her mind played tricks on her, making her feel as though she was floating in a star-filled sky. The magic fell on her fingers like glimmering dust particles.
The silver sparkles were as cold as brief winters, while the soft copper ones melted into her arms, replacing them with the crispness of fall.
Tara shook her head. No, she couldn’t dwell on Roderick anymore. He wasn’t worth it. Not after he’d chosen to dismiss her.
“King Cian.” Kieran’s voice made her spin around.
Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Words failed her.
The air around her was heavy, filled with the same magic she’d felt every time she’d been near him in Duskland.
Now it all made sense. Why she’d felt so intimidated by him every time he was near her in that castle teeming with scoundrels, filth, and criminals.
Tara looked into his deep amber eyes, the ones that reminded her of the Lord of Duskland and Nightwind. Eyes that had shared silent meals with her.
Who had offered her the strange but tasty white fruit with purple veins more than once.
“Welcome, Tara of the Court of Fears.” His voice was deeper now, more resonant, filled with a power beyond comprehension to other beings.
His posture, seated in a solitary chair made of cold iron. It was impossible for it not to affect him. But with the fae, reality and illusion were often blurred.
The King of the Unseelie was dressed impeccably. His green jacket was adorned with embroidery resembling the dried branches of a black tree.
Tara scanned the room. Autumn branches and leaves adorned ice-white columns. She looked up at the ceiling. As dark as a winter’s night.
Her eyes roved the room for others. They were few, but each was distinct. Each one powerful, dressed elegantly in jackets of blue, orange, black, and green.
But Tara’s gaze settled on one in particular.
The fae with her wild black curls loose. Her blue eyes contrasted against her bronzed skin. The drab brown dress she always wore in the kitchen was gone.
Now she wore a dress that could feed hundreds of starving people in the mortal world.
Keya gave her a smile and a nod. A possessive hand on her waist made Tara look at the man beside her. He was as beautiful as she was. Tall with brown eyes, thin lips.
All of them were undeniably beautiful. A beauty that could drive others to madness and obsession.
“I believe this is yours,” the Unseelie King said. And Tara felt a weight in her hand.
“It was you all along,” she finally said. The crystal she thought she’d lost was now in her hand.
“I warned you, Tara. The consequences of losing it would be severe for you.” The dark fae who called himself King stood up. And walked over to her. “Let me show you something,” he said.
Tara looked at Kieran, who nodded, silently assuring her there was no danger in following the King.
She took Kian’s hand, and they vanished into thin air. She still couldn’t believe that he had been the King of the Unseelie, known as Cian, all this time.
“Same lake,” Kian’s voice echoed next to her. His tone was as solid as his entire demeanor.
Tara’s gaze was locked on the lake, cradled by autumn. The water was serene.
The aroma of leaves in hues of orange, red, purple, blue, and yellow alternated between tranquility and melancholy.
The familiar rocks stacked along the lake’s edge beckoned her. They seemed to urge her to recline and stargaze.
The lake was unmistakably the same. Only its trees had traded their green for a spectrum of reds.
“How can this be...?” She couldn’t trust her eyes. Yet, she was reminded once more that with the fae, appearances could be deceiving.
“Back then, I only allowed you to glimpse a fraction of this reality,” Kian materialized near the shoreline.
“Why did you masquerade as Cailtan?” Tara chose to keep her distance, recalling the melodious voice that had called to her when she saw her reflection in the water previously.
“Why not?”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Kian. Or should I address you as King Cian of the Unseelie now?”
A smile graced his lips. Once again, she was captivated. During their interactions in Duskland, he had always been stern and sparing with words.
Yet, it seemed this place unveiled a different facet of his personality.
“It’s odd, but I feel a sense of relief being back here,” he confessed out of the blue, causing her brows to furrow in confusion. “Duskland was becoming tedious.”
“Why were you there? If you don’t mind me asking. I mean, you’re the King of the Unseelie, your kind needed you here more than those criminals.”
“Even criminals require some form of order, Tara.” He glanced at her. “Just when I was about to abandon hope of finding something to keep me there a bit longer, you appeared.”
“What do you mean?”
“From the moment you arrived, I could sense you,” he admitted.
“How?”
“Perks of being who I am.” Kian dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “Why do you think you didn’t encounter other hunters who, like you, were after the demoness?”
Her journey with Roderick had been surprisingly smooth, save for the demon who ambushed her at the pond. And the werewolves.
But throughout her stay, Tara had never been threatened by other hunters.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why not?”
“Could you be more specific?” she demanded, her patience wearing thin with his vague, cryptic replies.
Kian turned to face her. She braced herself for a reprimand for her disrespectful tone. His gaze was stern, but his response took her by surprise.
“You are the perfect embodiment of deception.”
“What?” She whispered.
“A hybrid. Mortal and dark fae. An impossibility to our kind. If not for what you are, you wouldn’t be here.”
In other words, she realized, if she hadn’t piqued his interest, he wouldn’t have assisted her in Duskland, let alone be conversing with her now.
“The perfect deception.” His deep amber eyes matched his authoritative, resonant voice. “You are the first. The first hybrid to flawlessly merge both worlds.
“While others perceive you as a weak, insignificant mortal, they overlook the fact that you are, indeed, a dark, immortal fae.”
“Why me?”
“I believe that’s a tale the Lord of the Court of Fears should share with you.”
“So, you’ve been manipulating me all this time?”
“I wouldn’t use that term. I prefer to think I was aiding you.”
Tara snorted. “The King of the Unseelie? Assisting a hybrid? I don’t believe my status as the perfect deception is enough to inspire such altruism in you.”
“Every action, every word, every disappointment, every tear shed, and every pain endured has shaped you into who you are today.”
“What do you want from me?”
Because now that she understood everything that had transpired in Duskland was a result of the Unseelie King’s manipulative tactics, she knew there had to be a reason behind it all.
She scoffed inwardly, recalling everything she had been through. When the witch Arietta selected her as the beast’s meal, and he did nothing.
As he mended the injuries Bairre had inflicted on her, he proposed a pact with Roderick...
“I want you to be my voice when the time is right,” he declared.
“Can I say no to that?” She asked, her voice laced with uncertainty.
The concept of remaining here indefinitely hadn’t crossed her mind until this moment. And the thought of being the mouthpiece for the most influential fae was even more daunting.
A sly, mischievous grin spread across his face. “Only when your heart and duty align once more.”
In essence, she had no choice but to agree. At least not at this point. Not until her heart and duty found common ground again. Whatever that implied.
