Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(82)

No one responded.

“Good enough,” she whispered as she pushed open the door.

A blast of cold air pushed her backward. Purple petals tangled in her waist length hair and fell onto the floor. The blanket of cobwebs on the ceiling stirred. They bounced with the weight of the musty air and shadows danced upon the walls as spiders fled the light.

Sorcha blew out a breath. “There is nothing to be afraid of. Shadows are just that. Shadows.”

Her own voice echoed, distorted and warped. She shivered, but pushed on.

She wandered for a while. The western tower was far larger than she expected. There were many doors down the long hallway into darkness. None of them opened, no matter how hard she pushed.

Eventually, she gave up trying. She stayed close to the wall and squinted in the darkness to make out where she might go next.

There, up ahead, was a light. Dim and with no source she could distinguish.

Sorcha squared her shoulders and snuck down the hallway until she could press her palm against the door. The light was yellow. Candlelight?

A smile spread across her face.

“Got you,” she whispered. “Let’s see what you’ve been up to.”

She tested the door, one hand on the handle and the other firmly against the wood grain. Unlike the others, this door was well oiled. Silent, it hid her presence as she slid it open inch by inch.

Sorcha peeked through the small crack. A candelabra glowed with the light of a dozen candles placed atop a sconce on the wall nearest her. There was a nice blanket of shadows behind a pillar. If she could sneak over to that, he wouldn’t be able to see her…

Bravery, foolish bravery perhaps, was her middle name. Holding her breath, she darted through the door and ducked into the shadows.

Her heart pounded so forcefully she was certain he would hear it. He’d be so angry if he found her sneaking. Even his servants would berate her for hours if they discovered she had snuck into this forbidden place.

Sorcha furrowed her brows. She listened for some kind of sound. The movement of fabric, the exhale of a breath, the murmuring of voices.

Was he here?

She leaned around the pillar. The room was small, quaint even. Blue glowing flowers grew up from the floor, stretching their vines into the ceiling. Leaves larger than her entire body folded over the thick tendrils and swept the ground.

At the end of the room, a large stone loomed in the shadows. She had seen its ilk before. A sacred stone, the triskele carved into its surface marking it as a holy object.

He knelt before it wearing nothing but a small loincloth. His back was broad, sliced so many times that he glimmered in the weak blue light. Even his feet were broken, she noticed. The sole of one gaped open and a valley of violet crystals danced down it.

Her cheeks burned. He held his hands folded before him, long braid trailing down his back and completely still.

She should leave. This was a holy place and her intrusion was not welcome.

Shame made her palms sweat. She had always been a curious creature, but she’d never waltzed into a church just to watch. This was sacrilege.

“Grandfather,” he murmured. His voice was deep, like the shifting of the earth in the middle of the night. “Nuada Airgetlám, I beseech your help.”

Grandfather? She ducked behind the pillow again and pressed her hands against her chest. He was the grandson of Nuada Silverhand? It wasn’t possible!

“I am lost. I have followed your paths, listened to your wisdom, and still I am here.”

The pain in his voice made her ache. Sorcha had never heard him speak in such a way. He was a private person, and she wasn’t surprised that he kept his secrets close.

Her eyes locked upon the cracked door. He fell silent and her opportunity to do the right thing was now. She could slip out, forget that she had intruded, and tell herself she had eased the curiosity eating at her.

But now, here, she could satisfy that curiosity. It burned so brightly her thoughts burst into flame.

She gritted her teeth and twisted her fingers together. She would regret this.

A few moments more, she told herself. He had to leave eventually. Sorcha leaned around the pillar again, watching as Stone leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the ground.

The strong muscles of his thighs bunched. His back flexed, tightening into a valley following the ridge of his spine.

“They know where I am. I have always said that if they find the courage to fight me, then let them come. My brother must find the man within if he wishes to wipe me from the Otherworld. And I have remained alone.”

She pressed her chest against the pillar. Her fingers were freezing, but she couldn’t pull away from the shadows. Her eyes stayed locked upon his prostrate figure.

“You raised me to be a weapon. I was untouchable with your sword at my side, and then you allowed me to be cut down by my own blood. Through all this, I endured. I existed. But now, I do not know what path you wish me to take.

“There is another here. A woman who survived the journey from Ui Neill to Hy-brasil. I thought such a thing impossible for one so frail, and surely the mark of your children is upon her.”

Sorcha held her breath. She wanted to know what secrets he held regarding her presence.

“She is a distraction I do not need. If I wish to be prepared for my brother’s attack, then I should ignore her. Or perhaps send her away.

“He sent more men. I entertained them for a time in the throne room, but their eyes wandered. They searched for the best place to attack. The easiest way to draw blood and strike at my heart. I’m confident they found nothing.”