"That's Lachlain's ring," Emma said at one point.
How did she know that?
Demestriu frowned, then glanced down at his hand. Moments passed before he said, "I suppose it is."
Lachlain had long imagined Demestriu continually staring at the ring, reveling in what he'd done, pleased to possess a constant reminder of Lachlain's torture.
Demestriu had hardly noticed it.
Then Lachlain heard the most horrifying revelation.
Emma had dreamed his memories. Of the fire. That's what had happened that night when she'd woken in such pain. Looking back, he could see she'd felt the agony he had.
He closed his eyes, appalled. He would rather have died than convey that horror to her.
Lachlain couldn't help but watch as events continued to unfold.
The fight made his muscles clench with tension, though he knew the outcome. But he had not known she'd been injured so grievously. Now his worry intensified, eating at him.
When Emma toed the pool of blood as she might the cold ocean, she flinched. She held the sword over her head, but it shook wildly and tears streamed down her cheeks. How he wished he could have taken that fear and pain for her.
Lachlain frowned when Demestriu's eyes changed and when the blood flowed as if he'd been lanced of a venom. He'd appeared...relieved to die.
Emma's beautiful face was drawn in an anguished expression as she knelt beside him, desperate not to kill him. Lachlain saw the exact moment she'd known that she would have to. Though it went against everything she was, she'd done it. All alone, his brave Emmaline had slain her own father, then had looked to be sizing up Ivo directly after. But luckily, she'd saved him for Lachlain.
Her final act - leaping into the sun...
He was awed by her courage, but knew the toll this would take on her. Knew the toll he himself had taken on her. Was he selfish to go after her?
What if he's my father?
Malevolent, filthy parasites.
Christ, no.
34
I've come for Emma," Lachlain bellowed, standing in the shadow of Emma's home, Val Hall, which looked to be the face of hell.
Though the fog was cloying, lightning fired all around, sometimes corralled by the many copper rods planted all along the roof and the grounds, sometimes by the scorched oaks crowding the yard. Annika stepped out onto the porch, looking otherworldly in her rage, her eyes glittering green, then silver, and back. Wraiths flew about her hair, cackling.
At that moment, he couldn't decide whether this bayou shrine to insanity or Helvita was worse. Nïx waved happily from a window.
He fought not to reveal how weak he was becoming. Bowe had wrapped his wounds tight, but his limbs were still weakening. Lachlain had forbidden Bowe or anyone else in the clan to accompany him to Val Hall, fearing this would devolve into a war, but he still sensed them in the forest all around.
"I'm taking Emma from this place tonight."
Annika tilted her head as if to see him better. Emma did that, too. Emma had gotten it from this woman. "Never would I give my daughter to a dog."
No man had in-laws like these.
"Then trade me for my brother."
Garreth bellowed in Gaelic from somewhere inside, "Goddamn it, Lachlain, I just got into this house."
"Or take both of us. Just let me talk to her." He had to see if she was healing.
"The Accession is nigh, and you want us to imprison the Lykae king and his heir?"
Regin hurried to her side. She spoke in English, but with words he didn't understand, calling this a "slam dunk," admonishing Annika, "Just take it to the hoop, Shaq."
Annika's voice rang out. "She made her decision when she returned to her coven. When hurt and afraid and unthinking, she chose us. Not you, Lykae."
That pained him terribly, her choice. Not only had she decided to leave him, she'd decided to stay away from him. But what right did he have to her after what he'd made her suffer? He hid his pain. "Do I go in, or do we go to war?" Just to see if she's healing.
She looked past him, scanning the grounds, no doubt sensing their numbers. She tilted her head again, lifted her hand to the wraiths, and his path was cleared.
He limped into the darkened manor, seeing dozens of Valkyrie, curled up on chairs, hands on weapons, perched atop the stair railing. He fought not to gape at the sheer malice these fey beings exuded. For the hundredth time, he marveled that Emma had been raised among them.
They didn't restrain him. Did they know he wouldn't hurt them? Or did they want him to attack so they could slaughter him? He'd bet the latter.
Within two minutes of his entrance, he was shown to the cage in the damp half-basement that housed his brother Garreth. He didn't resist even when the door clanged shut behind him.
Garreth stared at him as though seeing a ghost, then ran a hand over his face. "Do my eyes betray me?"
Lachlain's happiness at seeing his brother was overshadowed by worry. "No, it's me."
Garreth rushed to him, grin in place, and whaled slaps on his back. "Well, brother, what have you gotten us into now?"
"Aye, it's good to see you as well."
"I thought you were...When they said you'd taken Emma, I thought they were mad. Until I saw her, saw you'd marked her." He frowned. "Marked her hard, no?" He shook his head. "Ach, anyway, it's good to have you back. Under any circumstances. I've so many questions, but that can wait. You need news about her?"
At his nod, Garreth said, "She's injured, Lachlain. She has gashes down her side, and she could no' drink though she was...she was about to die in just the first couple of hours."
Lachlain flinched. Claws into his palms, he rasped, "What saved her?"