Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
His expression didn’t change as he met her gaze. “I would have waited until the end of time, but I will not sit by and let him destroy you the way he did Emilie.”
The doors opened at some unseen command. In walked Niamh in traditional Druid robes. Her burgundy hair long and flowing. Her expression troubled. Behind her came a cadre of Druids in green robes belted at the waist. Declan led the Order into the room, taking up spots inside as if they’d all prepared for this moment. Declan stopped at Lorcan’s side. He sneered at her as if he thought this was what she deserved.
“In position, sir,” Declan said, nodding to Lorcan.
“Is she ready?” Niamh asked.
“Yes,” Lorcan said at the same time Kierse said, “No!”
Lorcan dragged Kierse toward the center of the room. “It’s as we thought. He got to her.”
Niamh bit her lip as she and Declan followed them. The swagger was gone from her step, and she looked between Kierse and Lorcan as if she didn’t have a clue in the world what to do.
“Why are you helping him?” Kierse demanded of Niamh. “You told me in Dublin that he wasn’t really in charge. You said he didn’t have power over you. You don’t have to do this.”
Niamh wavered. “He’s in charge here,” she said with a sigh. “And he’s right anyway. I’ve been worried about you.”
“Worrying about me and kidnapping me are sort of different extremes.”
“I know. If we could have done this any other way, we would have,” Niamh promised her.
Niamh removed gold, braided string from her pocket and nodded at Lorcan. He lifted their hands, and Kierse pulled against his magic. She didn’t have any energy. The little she had was like throwing pebbles into the ocean. Little good it did.
“Please don’t,” Kierse whispered.
“I’m sorry,” Niamh said. “I was convinced we wouldn’t have to do this, but Ethan came to us so scared for you.”
Ethan had betrayed her trust, and now they were here. The wound stung. She couldn’t believe he’d done that to her.
“Ethan doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Kierse said. “I’m not corrupted or whatever Lorcan is saying.”
“I know how insidious he is,” Niamh said softly. Her eyes cut to Lorcan, who lifted a brow. “Lorcan isn’t all good, but he’s never done anything like Graves. He’d never hurt you.”
“Believe it or not, this hurts me,” she told them, gesturing to their joined hands.
Niamh hesitated. “Lorcan…”
“The ceremony is an honor,” he said. “It’s sacred.”
“It’s sacred,” Niamh repeated. She began to twine the golden thread around their wrists.
“You might not be in my head,” Kierse said flatly, “but you sure as hell are manipulating the rest of them.”
“This is a handfasting,” Niamh continued as if she hadn’t heard Kierse at all. “It’s a traditional Celtic wedding ceremony but is used symbolically in this ceremony to express the union of two souls.”
“Please,” she pleaded with Lorcan. “Don’t do this.”
“It’ll be better when it’s over.”
The Druids began to chant in an ancient language. She remembered the small lesson Lorcan had given her on Druidic spells—self, spirit, and sacrifice. The self was inherent magic of which Lorcan was at the peak of his. Spirit was time, place, and the cosmos of which today was the summer solstice. And sacrifice was what was given to power the spell. Here, it was the chanting and the ribbon tying them together and the promise of a queen to the Oak Throne.
Wind whipped inside the building like they were outside on the day of a hurricane. Her hair flew around her face, cutting into her eyes and obscuring her vision. Lorcan stood firm against the squall. The mountain in the storm. Magic crawled up their bodies, a swirl of gold and blue glittering in the dim lighting. It started at their joined hands and stretched outward toward her chest. The most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. And the most terrifying.
The chanting increased in volume. Niamh’s words as she read off the spell were lost to the volume of the wind. Still it continued, eating up inch after inch of her wrist and then her arm and up to her shoulder. She panicked as it reached for her. She tugged against the bindings, but all it did was tighten the string, pull them closer together. Still, the magic embraced her body like an old lover. Warm and inviting. It wanted to lull her into submission. And it felt good.
It would be so easy to give up. To let him win. Because there was that piece inside her that said this was what she was made for.
The last wisp.
The most powerful Druid.
They were destined. And once they were bound together, the world would be set right again.
Except when she looked up into blue eyes, she wished for gray. When she saw his dark brown hair, she was missing the midnight blue. When she saw his navy suit, she wanted the black. She wanted the darkness. She wanted Graves.