“Love is not a weakness,” Lorcan said quickly.
“It is if it gets you killed.”
“Then, you know nothing of love.”
Segonax gave him a flat stare. “I know plenty of love, Your Highness. We are not all the monsters you believe us to be.”
Lorcan had still not become accustomed to being addressed with a royal title. Some addressed him as Your Highness while others seemed fond of Lord Prince. He was fond of neither. But no matter how many times he mentioned he preferred his given name and nothing more, the shadow fae insisted on viewing him as their prince.
His father had shown him little to no interest since Lorcan had agreed to become his legitimized prince. The king had what he wanted now, and that was a son bound to him by a mark. A mark Lorcan knew was embedded in some dark magic. He often felt a strange hum along his skin. At night, sometimes he swore he heard a voice whispering to him, reminding him of the lives that would be lost if he did not obey his father’s every command.
“You put a mark on me against my will,” Lorcan said dryly. “No, you’re not monstrous at all.”
Segonax sighed. “I understand why you’re angry, but it was the only way to ensure that you would not kill us all in our sleep. Your father is all too aware of the grudge your mother held against us, and what she must have whispered into your ear.”
“There was a reason for her grudge.” Lorcan narrowed his eyes. “Or do you deny it?”
“It was not as simple as that, I’m afraid. She once lived here at the castle. Did she ever tell you that?”
Shock pummelled into him like a runaway horse. “That’s impossible.”
“She did. And many believe she fell in love with your father.”
Revulsion twisted Lorcan’s gut. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe me or not, it does not change the truth.” Segonax flattened his lips into a thin, white line. “What I’m about to say, you cannot repeat. The king took advantage of her affections. She wanted him to marry her. He refused. And yet he took what he wanted from her anyway, despite her very clear objections. I dare not say more than that.”
Lorcan’s heart pounded in his ears. The shadow fae’s words had flipped everything he thought he knew upside down. Her mother had never mentioned love, only hate. And yet, she had never told him how she’d met the shadow king. Had she truly loved this male? It would not change the vileness of what he had done to her, but it painted a terrible picture in his mind indeed.
His mother, in love with that squat, cruel king. Her kind eyes. Her tender smile. How could she have ever felt something for Bolg Rothach?
“It makes little sense,” Lorcan muttered.
“Love rarely does.” Segonax sighed. “Now, let us return to the task of teaching you how to properly fight. We have another young warrior here with us, training to become one of the king’s loyal guards. You two will do well together, I believe.” Segonax turned toward the door that led into the barracks. “Teutas? Come on out now.”
A young shadow fae strode out from the barracks, his sharply-pointed ears cutting through sleek black hair. His face was as fresh as the morning dew. There was no hardness in his silver eyes, only eager anticipation. He grinned, his walk all swagger.
Lorcan frowned. “This lad has never seen a day of fighting in his life.”
“No,” Segonax admitted. “But he’s been training with an experienced tutor.” He smiled. “Me. That should even things out a bit between you. Now, go on then. Have a little practice fight.”
Teutas strode toward him, raising his sword.
Lorcan sized him up. He appeared harmless enough. His arms were as smooth and as thin as a seedling, and he was clearly straining beneath the weight of the sword.
With a smile, Lorcan lifted his weapon and blocked the fae’s swing. Their blades knocked against each other, the shadowsteel ringing loud in the silence of the courtyard. The force of it knocked Lorcan back, and his feet twisted beneath him, so much so that he almost lost his balance. Lorcan blinked in surprise. Perhaps this young fae wasn’t as green as he looked.
Excitement sparked in his chest as a newfound adrenaline coursed through his veins. All the fear and pain of the past few days vanished from his mind, leaving nothing but the blade, his opponent, and the silken shadows that pulsed along the ground.
Fighting was the only thing that ever made his heart and mind feel still.
With a smile, he lifted his sword. And they fought hard.
He sat at a long oak table in the warriors’ hall, sharing soft baked bread with Teutas. Along the table sat a small offering. Boiled potatoes, snake stew, and raw fish. But it was the biggest feast Lorcan had seen in a very long time.
Several more tables were packed full of other warriors, some of whom had been part of the company that had dragged Lorcan here to bend to his father’s will. He paid them no mind. He was too high on the thrill of training so hard that there was no longer any strength left inside his limbs.
“You’re a hell of an opponent, Lorcan,” Teutas said, speaking around a mouth full of snake stew. “I’m famished. And I think I’ll be sore for weeks.”
Lorcan couldn’t help but grin. “Same to you. And here I thought you were going to be as easy to topple as a princess.”
Teutas chuckled, and then cut his dark eyes toward Lorcan. “I didn’t think you’d put up a fair fight, you know. Segonax warned me that you’re bloody pissed at us all.”
The smile slid from Lorcan’s face. “What my father has done is not your fault.”
“Anger is not often logical.”
Lorcan sighed. For several hours, his mind had been free from thoughts of his father. He’d been able to focus on the simple movements of a fight. On the slice of steel through air. On the legwork, and the weight of the sword in his hands. It had been blissful serenity. And now he’d tumbled right back into the new reality of his life. He was stuck in a strange land with strange fae and bound to a cruel father who would do anything to get what he wanted.
Nollaig suddenly dropped onto the bench across the table. As always, her face was hidden beneath a thick hood, her arms encased by a cloak just as dark. “I hear your training has gone well today.”
“As well as it could have gone,” Lorcan muttered. “When you’re a prince trapped by murderous threats.”
Nollaig ignored his insolence. “I come bearing a message. An invitation, in fact. How would you like to get out of the castle for a few days?”
Lorcan jerked up his head, suddenly interested. “It almost sounds too good to be true. What’s the catch?”
“The catch is that there may be fighting. The air fae are pushing forward at the border. Some of their warriors have left Findius to attack further south. We need to push them back.”
Lorcan’s hope dropped like a coin into a bucket. “You want me to fight against the air fae.”
“It’s that or stay here with your father.” She shrugged. “Your choice.”
5
The crimson sun shone through the thick, impenetrable mists that swirled around them like blankets of dust. A hot breeze rustled the parched ground, tossing up clouds of coral sand. The warriors had been travelling for days, from the gloom of Olc Fortress to the villages south of Findius, the former capital city of the Shadow Court.