Apparently Liam couldn’t stand to watch either. His blue gaze was trained straight forward, over the heads of the reuniting couple, and unfocused, as though he was concentrating on not actually seeing anything.
When Mel couldn’t stand it anymore, she cleared her throat. Loudly.
The couple finally pulled apart.
“Oh, right!” Winnie said, her face still beaming with pure joy. “Cathair,” she said to the guy, “this is my best friend, Mel Ackerman.”
Tall, dark and magical crossed the room, hand extended for Mel to shake. She started to reach for him until the words Winnie said actually registered.
“Cathair?” Mel echoed. “As in Prince Cathair?”
Winnie gave her a nervous smile.
Mel had read the stories about him, about the silver-haired prince who was pining over some girl he could never have. Holy bananacakes. Now it all made sense. Winnie was the girl the prince could never have—but now obviously could, because here they were.
Mel was starting to think that her brain was not equipped to deal with all of this. One more shock and it might spontaneously combust.
“Wow,” Mel replied, not bothering to hide any of the awe she was feeling. “He knows about the…?”
She mouthed, Stories.
Winnie nodded. “He knows everything.”
Cathair didn’t seemed fazed by any of this. He just reached out to shake Mel’s limp hand and then wrapped his arm around Winnie’s waist.
He was obviously head over heels. Mel couldn’t fault him for that. With how much Winnie clearly loved him, if he’d seemed anything less than completely smitten Mel would’ve had to introduce him to her fist. No one hurt Mel’s best friend and lived to tell the tale without losing a few teeth.
“Come,” Cathair said, gesturing toward the door, “we have plans to discuss. The queen awaits.”
Plans to discuss. That sounded ominous.
As he and Winnie led the way out the door, arm in arm, Mel followed, with Liam close at her side.
“He’s not talking about planning a tea party, is he?” she asked him.
And wasn’t surprised when he didn’t reply.
That was all the answer she needed.
Chapter Eight
As they walked through the halls of the Moraine palace, past sculptures and paintings of former kings and queens, past rooms he knew were no longer in use, their contents covered in the dust and decay of a once great clan on the verge of extinction, Liam wondered what awaited them in Aedan’s chamber. When he and Winnie had left that morning to retrieve her best friend, they knew only that the prince had been located.
In the hours since, he had been rescued.
Liam wanted to see for himself what shape the younger prince was in.
And then he wanted to decide on a course of action to stop Ultan once and for all. The traitor had incited chaos for far too long. The clan deserved a time of peace.
A pair of guards stood sentry outside Aedan’s door. A female member of the Royal Guard with long blonde hair laced with thin braids. Regan, if he remembered correctly. Liam had met her once at a diplomatic ceremony. The other was a redheaded member of the Seer Guard, a human named Peter whom Liam had seen many times in the sanctuary.
Regan scanned her gaze over the group as they approached. Evaluating for a threat. Tearloch had trained her well.
Peter broke out in a grin.
“Come to save your brother?”
Cathair frowned. “Save him from what?”
Peter leaned away from the door and whispered, “Your mother.”
“I heard that,” a female voice echoed from behind the closed doors.
Peter’s eyes widened. “Ears like a bat, that one.”
The Peter stepped aside, pulling the door open for the prince and the rest of them to enter.
The first thing Liam noticed was the light. Despite the fact that the sun had set more than an hour ago, the room glowed like midday on a cloudless day. Dozens of candles covered every surface, casting a flickering glow over every surface. There wasn’t a shadow to be seen.
Aedan lay in his bed, propped up on a sea of pillows and looking almost entirely like himself. There was something Liam couldn’t quite put his finger on. A darkness in the young prince’s eyes, perhaps.
But on the whole, he looked none the worse for wear.
The queen sat at his bedside, trying to get him to take a plate of food she was offering. From the smell of it, they were honey tarts.
Liam wouldn’t say no to such a treat.
She looked up when she saw Cathair step up to the foot of the bed.
“Tell him he has to eat,” she ordered her eldest son.
Aedan rolled his eyes. “Tell her I have eaten enough.”
“Tell him—”
“Mother,” Cathair said in a tone that cut through the mother-son squabble, “might I introduce Miss Melania Ackerman. Daughter of the fae god, Belemeus.”
The prince stepped to the side and Melania moved awkwardly to stand next to him.
“Hi.” Melania gave the queen an awkward wave.
Liam coughed to cover a laugh. Then broke into a full on coughing fit when Melania spun around to glare at him for laughing at her.
The queen rose in a swirl of purple and gold fabric that surrounded her like a mist. She crossed to the guest of honor and wrapped her in a maternal hug. “Welcome, Melania, to the fae realm.”
“It’s Mel, actually.”
This time Liam wasn’t the only one trying to disguise a laugh. Few spoke so informally to the queen, her sons being on the very short list of people who could do so without earning an afternoon in the palace stocks.
The queen, however, just smiled.
“Mel,” she said. “I am Eimear, Queen of the Clan Moraine.”
Melania—Mel—shifted her weight. “Am I supposed to curtsy or something?”
The queen laughed. “No, no. That is quite unnecessary.” Then she turned to Winnie and Liam, in turn, and told them, “Thank you for retrieving her safely.”
Liam bowed out of respect.
“We must speak of that, mother,” Cathair said. “While Winnie and Liam were retrieving Mel, they had a confrontation with Ultan.”
The tray of treats that had been resting on Aedan’s bed went clattering to the floor. The young prince was red-faced. “Sorry. I was reaching for a candy-currant bun.”
Though Aedan might have been trying to pass it off as an accident, the haunted look in his eyes indicated another cause. The reaction was more than understandable. They were all a little jumpy at any mention of the traitor’s name.
“Perhaps we should…” Cathair began to say.
“Aedan needs his rest,” the queen said. “We shall speak in my office.”
Everyone agreed, and after saying their goodbyes to the younger prince, set out for the queen’s office. They met Tearloch in the hall on his way to join them.
Liam would not have said anything out loud, but Aedan seemed relieved when they were leaving. He wondered if the young prince was overwhelmed by the attention since his return.
Liam quickened his pace to catch up with Cathair.
“Have you considered,” he said in a private whisper, “assigning a single guard to Aedan’s protection?”
Cathair gave him a questioning look. “You think that would be sufficient?”
“I think,” Liam explained, “that the young prince seemed agitated by the crowd.”
The older prince considered the idea. “You might be right. I will look into that in the morning.” He clapped Liam on the back. “Thank you. For looking out for him.”
They made the rest of the walk to the queen’s office in silence.
Normally, the Royal Council would be called upon to advise on such a situation. When a traitor has ascended to the highest echelons of power—namely advisor to the queen—then trust becomes almost impossible. None but the royal family and their closest friends could be relied upon.
> Liam was proud to be counted among their numbers.
The pair of guards stationed at the entrance to the queen’s office pulled open the doors as the group approached.
The queen swept around behind her desk, sinking into her chair with a look of uncertainty on her face.
Liam grew up in the palace, playing soldier in the courtyard with Tearloch and the princes. He knew the queen as well as any, and he didn’t think he had ever seen her look quite so lost. Between the revelation that her most trusted advisor was a traitor to his clan, the assassination attempt on her eldest son and the kidnapping and torture of her youngest, it was a testament to her strength that she had even wanted to participate in the meeting.
She had been putting on a good face for her sons, but she was more concerned than she let on.
She gestured for the rest of the group to take what seats were available.
“Now tell me, ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “What are we going to do about the man who is trying to destroy our world?”
Chapter Nine
If Mel got out of this situation without getting herself beheaded, she would count it as a win. Seriously, what kind of idiot talks back to a queen?
Knowing when to keep her mouth shut had always been one of her weaknesses. Second only to actually keeping her mouth shut.
She should probably work on that.
Cathair held one of the desk chairs out for Winnie, who gave him an adoring smile as she took the seat. Cathair placed his hands on the back of her chair and stood behind her.
Mel had never seen her friend look so very happy.
That left one empty chair at the desk. Mel looked at Liam and then jerked her head toward it, offering him the seat. She was a guest, after all. This was his palace, not hers.
To her surprise, he shook his head and the nodded for her to take the spot.
She tried to offer it to the other guy—Winnie had introduced him as Tearloch—and got the same response
She felt guilty as she slid into the seat while Liam and Tearloch remained standing, like soldiers on guard at either end of the desk.
“How shall we proceed?” the queen asked the group. “I am open to suggestions.”
Mel looked around. Of all the people in the room, she was the last one who might have any clue what they should do. She didn’t even know this world existed a few hours ago. She certainly didn’t know how to save it.
“Should we seek alliances?” Cathair suggested.
“None but the Deachair can be trusted to maintain an alliance,” Tearloch replied. “And they are not strong enough to offer much protection.”
“Agreed,” the queen said. “We could be betrayed at the first offer of protection from the Dark Clan.”
“Ultan has already discovered that Mel is the key. And after the confrontation at her home, he knows that she is under our protection,” Cathair said.
“You are certain he identified you?” The queen directed her question at Liam.
“Yes, your majesty,” he said with a grave tone. “We were face to face.”
“Then is only a matter of time before he attacks the palace,” the queen said. “There are those on the council who believe Mel should be taken elsewhere.”
“Where?” Winnie asked. “There isn’t anywhere safe enough.”
Tearloch leaned forward over the desk. “There is one place.”
“The impenetrable tower,” the queen said, her voice barely a whisper.
Winnie gasped at the same time Cathair and Liam said, “No.”
Mel had no idea what the impenetrable tower was, but from the way everyone was reacting, she had to assume it was a pretty bad thing.
“Of course not,” the queen, her voice ice cold. “None but Ultan himself deserve to be subjected to the impenetrable tower. But we cannot rule out such measures as a last resort.”
Everyone grew quiet. Mel only sort of understood what was at stake here, but what little she did understand made it a big freaking deal that Ultan never get his hands on her. For the sake of not getting her blood drained, if nothing else.
“If it comes down to a choice between the impenetrable tower and getting captured and killed by wolf guy,” she said to the room, “then I am all for the impenetrable tower.”
Mel bristled under the stare of every last person in the room. She wasn’t the sort of person who shied away from attention. After all, she was the girl who—on a dare—had streaked the homecoming pep rally last year wearing nothing but a bikini and a pair of giant lobster claws. (It was a long story.)
But something about this particularly intense scrutiny made her skin itch.
Until finally the queen let out an amused laugh.
“Noted,” she said, smiling at Mel as if the human girl had given the queen some kind of gift. “Any other suggestions?”
“We should go on lockdown,” Tearloch offered. “Seal every entrance. Essential visitors only.”
“That is hardly practical,” the queen replied. “We cannot cease all royal operations indefinitely.”
Cathair nodded. “We have no idea how long Ultan will bide his time. It could be hours before he attacks, or months.”
Mel shifted in her seat. “I’m not exactly a fan of sitting around and waiting.”
“Besides,” Winnie said. “School starts in less than two weeks. We can’t just not show up.”
“Nor do we have the forces to remain on constant alert,” Tearloch said. “Locking down the palace is the only way to concentrate our efforts. To make sure we have the strength of force required to stop Ultan when he does attack.”
Mel had read Winnie’s stories enough to know that the Moraine were a weakened clan. They were fighting for their survival, and an extended self-imposed siege would not end well for them.
If they didn’t have the military force to withstand a prolonged attack from Ultan, and they didn’t know when Ultan would be attacking, what were their options? They knew the where—wherever Mel was. But they needed to know the when.
“What if we knew when he would attack?” Mel asked the room.
Everyone turned to look at her.
“How could we know that?” Liam replied.
“You’ve got to figure that Ultan is out there, biding his time and waiting for a good opportunity to snatch me,” she explained. “Right?”
She suppressed a shiver at the thought of the ruthless traitor who was just waiting for the right time to grab her and kill her.
Everyone nodded.
“So, instead of waiting for him to find his opportunity, we give him one.”
“How do we do that?” Winnie’s eyes were wide, like she was worried for Mel’s safety. Or her sanity.
Both worries were probably totally valid.
“I think I understand,” Liam said. “We create a situation that will make him think it’s his best chance to take Mel. One that we can control.”
The queen leaned her elbows onto her desk. “Like what?”
“An event that opens the palace to the entire clan,” Liam said.
“Like a festival?” the queen mused. “Summer is nearly over. Perhaps a harvest festival is in order.”
“Or a carnival?” Tearloch suggested.
“It needs to be something Ultan would expect,” Liam explained, reading Mel’s mind. “If it is too out of the ordinary, he will suspect the trap.”
“Exactly,” Mel agreed.
“How about a ball?” the queen proposed.
Tearloch snorted. “What occasion do we have worth celebrating?”
The queen stared straight at Winnie and Cathair. “Why, an engagement, of course.”
Chapter Ten
It took all of three seconds for the queen’s office to erupt into chaos. Everyone started speaking at once—everyone but Liam, who just watched in shock.
“Mother!” Cathair exclaimed.
“What?” she replied, with an innocent expression on her face. “Is it not only a matter of time?”
&
nbsp; Cathair sputtered, as thought uncertain how to respond.
“It doesn’t have to be a real engagement ball,” Winnie finally said. “Ultan only has to believe that it is.”
“Precisely.” The queen beamed as brightly as if the engagement were real.
“I don’t—”
“Ultan knows of your feelings for Winnie,” Tearloch said. “He would easily believe that such festivities are legitimate.”
“His pride would be affronted,” Liam added. “That we dare to celebrate when he trying to destroy us. He would not let such an event go unpunished.”
The queen nodded. “Stealing Mel out from under our very noses would be, in his mind, the ultimate retribution.”
“Then it’s settled,” Winnie said.
Cathair moved around the chair to face her and then sank to one knee. “Know this, my love. This might be a counterfeit ball. But when we are no longer in the midst of a war, we shall celebrate such an occasion for real.”
Winnie made a kind of high-pitched noise and then flung her arms around Cathair’s neck. Everyone looked away while they shared an intimate moment. Liam thought he saw tears glistening in Mel’s eyes. But then she blinked quickly and they were gone.
“Then it’s settled,” the queen said. “This Saturday night, we shall set the trap.”
“Yay,” Mel said with that characteristic sarcasm. “I’ve always wanted to be bait.”
“We will take every precaution,” the queen promised.
Cathair nodded. “You will be guarded around the clock.”
“The full force of the Royal Guard will be in attendance,” Tearloch added.
“And that of the Palace Watch.” Liam turned his attention to the queen. “Might I also suggest that Mel receive some magical training?”
The girl in question looked at him. “What do you mean magical training?”
“You felt the sparks of energy when you grabbed my wrist?” he asked her.
She nodded and shrugged, as if to say, And?
“And when you crossed into the veil?”
Another, less confused nod.