Page 56 of Claimed By the Fae Lord

When all this was over, I might ask Nox about it. Once upon a time, long before I understood why my parents were appalled by mypreposterousambitions, I’d wanted to be a weaponsmith.

Not only had they been horrified, they’d forbidden me from ever mentioning it again. Of course I’d abandoned the very idea because I was always the dutiful daughter, especially when my years of life were still in the single digits.

Yet, the fascination had never left me.

I missed the private arsenal I’d left behind at Snowfall, weapons I’d earned or purchased on my own. I had been disappointed but not surprised when I learned from Nox that the manor’s armory had been emptied before his arrival.

It was trivial compared to the other atrocities committed there. The king thought I might be able to point a finger at the most likely culprit.

Regrettably, I couldn’t. When I’d last been home, everything had been as it always had been. Most importantly, Snowfall’s inhabitants had been alive.

My stomach lurched, followed by a cold dark need to avenge those poor unfortunate souls. Slow and painful deaths would be too light of a punishment for the bastards responsible.

“Focus forward," I reminded myself aloud, returning to my task.

A new pack lay open at the foot of my bed, containing garments suited for concealment and survival, a silent nod from Nox to life in Ephandor.

I especially appreciated the hood I could attach to the tunic to conceal my white-blonde hair. Hair that blended well with snow but stood out against the earth tones of Ephandor.

In less than an hour, Liam would portal us straight to his father’s residence. I wasn’t ready to face the Drótinn of Ephandor, even with his son right beside me.

Tying up the last of my packing was a good distraction, but the memory of last night's encounter hovered at the edge of my consciousness. Although close, it wasn’t close enough to distress my mood.

The desensitized feeling that had enveloped me in a protective layer of nothingness continued to linger. Though, it had waned slightly, and now I was experiencing a dull ache.

I couldn’t complain, though, not when I should have been shattered by themistakeI made last night.

A sharp rap at the door tore me from my thoughts. Drawing a steadying breath, I abandoned the pack.

The heavy oak door swung open, revealing three familiar faces framed by concern. Aeryn stood flanked by Mirrelle and Astrid, each wearing expressions that put me on alert.

"Raina," Aeryn began, her voice tinged with the kind of worry only a true friend could muster.

"Come to give your condolences?" I quipped, the words falling flat even to my own ears.

"I can kill the asshole, if you’d like," Mirrelle offered, though the furrow in her brow betrayed her jest.

If it was a jest. Knowing her, she might have meant the offer.

"Of course you can, but I think his family might invade Falcondale if you ever followed through," I replied, managing a half-smile. “And for some reason the king and his family are quite fond of him.”

Astrid stepped forward, the morning light catching the gorgeous gold-red hues of her hair. "We wanted to drop in on you last night, but the king told us to give you space."

She studied the outline of my frame, tilting her head as lines formed between her eyes. “Your aura’s off.”

"Off?" I echoed, letting out a huff that might have been a laugh in another life. "That’s one way to put it.”

"You don’t have to pretend with us," Aeryn insisted. “We’re with you all the way. Whatever you need. Right?”

“Absolutely,” Mirrelle agreed.

Astrid nodded resolutely.

"Thank you," I replied, fingers holding tight to the door.

Then I remembered my manners and stepped back to allow them through. “I know you didn’t come here just to give me a pep talk so you may as well come in and get it out of your systems.”

“She’s onto us!” Mirrelle teased, patting my cheek as she walked by.

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