Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 171450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 857(@200wpm)___ 686(@250wpm)___ 572(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 857(@200wpm)___ 686(@250wpm)___ 572(@300wpm)
“Niamh can meet us halfway.”
“Then arrange it, Lorcan. Do I have to do everything here?”
Lorcan clenched his jaw and got on his phone.
George ran around to the back of the limo, pulling the door open. “Kierse,” he whispered in horror.
“Oh, Graves,” she said through the pain. “Take George’s phone.”
George blinked. “My phone?”
“Give it here,” Graves said.
George handed it over without complaint. “Why do you need my phone, sir?”
“Maya apparently can do some persuasion through text.”
George’s face was one of utter shock. “What?”
“And Jason knew our plans through George.”
“Sir, I never would have done that.”
“Enough,” Graves said. “Kierse is priority. We can discuss this later.”
“Yes, sir,” George said, small and horrified.
Graves helped Kierse into the back of the limo, her hands blistered and aching in her lap.
“I think Maya’s a warlock,” Kierse said when he settled in next to her. “Her magic isn’t consistent with Druids.”
“I’ll look into it,” Graves said. He had George’s phone open and scrolled through old messages with Maya. His jaw got progressively more clenched and frustrated.
The other side of the limo opened, and Lorcan sank into the opposite seat. She was currently sandwiched between the two men of her life. Something she never would have thought would be possible before this moment.
“Niamh said to meet at your place,” Lorcan said stiffly.
“Good,” Graves said, tapping the top of the car.
He wrapped his free arm across Kierse’s shoulders and drew her in. She slid sideways, unable to keep herself upright anymore. Her head fell into Graves’s lap with her feet up in Lorcan’s. Content with both of them being there for the time being. Finally safe.
“Kingston wasn’t the Fae Killer,” she managed to get out.
Both Graves and Lorcan stiffened under her. “What do you mean?” Graves asked. “Dallas said…”
“It’s Amberdash. It was always Amberdash.” Kierse felt empty as she recounted what Jason had told her.
“But the sword,” Lorcan interjected, his hand going to the pommel of the object. “The sword confirmed it.”
“Maybe Jason lied,” Graves suggested.
Kierse closed her eyes. “He had no reason to lie. He was going to get everything he wanted.”
“But the Sword of Truth…” Lorcan continued.
“Wait…” Graves’s fingers stilled in her hair. “What were the sword’s exact words?”
“The truth is known and affirmative. He is the Fae killer,” Lorcan recited like rote.
“No,” Graves said softly. “The sword said he was a Fae killer.”
“A Fae killer,” he whispered. “We both thought…” Lorcan began. Their eyes met across the car.
“A Fae truth,” Graves said.
“He deserved his death for Saoirse,” Lorcan snarled. “I won’t regret it.”
Graves said nothing. Perhaps Kingston deserved to die for having killed Saoirse, but it was not the justice they’d envisioned.
Graves was silent long enough that she almost drifted toward sleep when he said, “The fucking daffodils.”
“Daffodils?” she asked.
He ran a hand down his face. “You know the ledger we took from Amberdash? He had daffodils in the margins.”
Lorcan sounded skeptical. “How does that help us?”
“The Welsh flower,” Graves said. “Dallas’s wards had a daffodil at the center. She was born in Wales.”
Kierse’s mind was sluggish, but another piece slotted together. “Amberdash had a daffodil ward on the hidden drawer under his desk.”
“Maybe her memory loss wasn’t because of Kingston. I’ve heard of rare occurrences of memory loss when a wraith feeds from a soul,” Graves said.
It had been right there in front of them, and neither had seen it. But how were they expected to? They had all the evidence right there saying that Kingston was the Fae Killer. Graves had investigated. It only came up with one answer.
“That’s what Amberdash wanted you to find,” Lorcan said finally.
Graves nodded. “He is not going to be an easy monster to kill.”
“No,” Lorcan agreed.
“What do we do now?” Kierse whispered. “Amberdash is…”
“Not tonight,” Graves said, resuming running his fingers in her hair. “All that matters is your recovery.”
“Rest, love,” Lorcan added lullingly into her mind.
She closed her eyes, resigned to deal with Amberdash another day. Her thoughts were deep and weighted as she forgot the world at large.
Later, she woke when the limo stopped before the brownstone. She yawned and stretched, trying to ignore the pain in her wrists. Graves helped her out, sliding her back into his arms when she stumbled on the sidewalk.
“Niamh is already here,” Graves said as he strode up the stoop. “She’ll help.”
Lorcan was on his heels, long strides catching up to them from the other side of the car.
Edgar opened the front door without Graves having to touch the dragon knocker. “Sir, I’ve prepared the study. Bram is upstairs with Walter. The healers have been working on him and believe a full recovery is in order.”
“Excellent,” Graves said as he passed through the front door.
Lorcan tried to follow them and all but rebounded against the entrance. The wards he was unable to pass through forced him back from the brownstone. “Brannon.”