Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(17)

“Excuse me?”

“Now.”

Ivor the butler appeared at her side. Sorcha squeaked when he grasped her arm. She stared down at the normal human hand and couldn’t shake the feeling that there were only three fingers touching her bicep.

“Wait!” she cried out. “I have to say goodbye to my family.”

“You’re boring me again,” Cormac grumbled. “We said you will leave now.”

“I need my things.”

“What things? You won’t need things where you’re going.”

“Personal items, clothing, a promise that I’ll return! I cannot leave without letting them know where I am going!”

Ivor pulled at her arm.

“Stop it!” Sorcha screamed and raked at his hand with ragged fingernails. “Let go of me you brute! Have some pity! I don’t want my sisters to think I’m dead!”

Cormac lifted a hand. “Wait.”

The butler froze, and she heard the jarring cough of his breath.

“Say that again,” Concepta ordered.

“I don’t want my sisters to think I’m dead.” Tears burned in Sorcha’s eyes. “They’ll worry about me, and I cannot abide that.”

Cormac trailed his hand along his sister’s jaw, caressed his hands down her flushed skin, and followed the “v” of her silken dress. She smiled and closed her savage eyes. “We will allow you to say goodbye. We know the rarity of a blood bond and cherish the love that blooms between siblings.”

The pull on her arm returned, and Sorcha did not look back upon the twisted twins who had freed her. She had a chance to do something right and help those in need.

As she stumbled down the steps, Ivor shoved her into the carriage with Agatha who was pale as snow.

“Are you all right, my dear?” she asked.

“No,” Sorcha replied. “But I think I will be. We’re going home.”

She glanced out the window and watched the rolling green hills become a blur. The faerie carriage sped towards the city with unnatural speed.





Chapter Three





THE SHIP





Briana huffed as she followed Sorcha. “You can’t leave!”

“I have to, and I already told you why, so please stop trailing along behind me. I have to get my things.”

“You haven’t even told us where you’re going!”

“I don’t know where I’m going.”

The dullahan coachman had brought her straight to the brothel. He didn’t speak, and she wasn’t about to lift the hag stone to her eye again, but she understood his quick gestures. She didn’t have a lot of time to make her goodbyes.

It was easier that way. Her sisters were prone to hysterics, especially when they weren’t getting what they wanted. Sorcha had been their crutch for a long time.

Although they were all close, she was the one they went to in times of struggle. That meant she heard all their secrets, their stories, their gripes about each other and the life they lived. She kept them all safe, childless, and made certain every bruise or scrape healed. They weren’t likely to admit it, but Sorcha was an integral part of their lives.

She would miss them so much.

Briana snatched a nightshirt out of Sorcha’s hands. “Absolutely not! I’m not blind. You show up in some fancy carriage with a coachman, a coachman, and then you think I will believe you’re off to cure the beetles? Sorcha! If you wanted to go off with some well-to-do nobleman, you know we’d be happy for you! Why are you lying?”

“I’m not lying.”

“There you go again! Is it Geralt? Is that why you don’t want to tell us?”

Sorcha scooted past Briana and stuffed another skirt into an oversized pack she could carry over her shoulder. It was better than smacking her sister in the face. “I can’t believe you would even suggest I would accept Geralt’s proposal!”

“He’s rich! He’s got plenty of land, and he’s obviously in love with you, though I can’t understand why!”

“I’m not marrying Geralt!” Sorcha grabbed an armful of her journals and dumped them into the bag with her clothing.

“Why are you taking those?”

“I might need them.”

“You can come back for them! Surely whoever you are going to see will let you come home? We don’t mind letting you keep this room!”

She wanted to keep the room, too. There were so many memories within these walls. Sweet and cherished moments where her sisters had shared secrets and weathered nightmares.

Sorcha devoured all the details she could find. The marks on the door where she’d kept track of Rosaleen’s growth. The flowerpot on the windowsill, now empty, because Briana had insisted the plant would grow back. The carved trunk her father had worked so long on, even though it looked more like scratch marks than the whale he said it was.

Life had a strange way of pulling her away from here. Every moment of her life, she had spent rushing away to faerie glens and leaving offerings. Now there was a chance to see the Otherworld in person, and she was so frightened to leave.

“Briana, I love you. I don’t know if I’ve said it enough, but I do.”

Her sister’s face creased in worry. “What are you doing? What choice have you made, Sorcha? You can trust me.”