Page 181 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

They needed to link. Ethan needed to put it back. He hadn’t…meant to go that far.

“Kierse,” Lorcan said, his hands gripping her shoulders, ducking so that he was looking into her face. Only his arms were holding her up. “Are you okay?”

“Sure,” she whispered.

He released her tentatively, and the force of having to hold herself up sent her toppling forward. Lorcan caught her again, lifting her up in a wedding carry. She could smell his magic—spring rain and summer sunshine—envelope her as she disappeared into oblivion.

Interlude

“Well?” Lorcan demanded.

Niamh felt Kierse’s wavering pulse and sighed. “She’ll be fine. She’s just at magic burn. She didn’t burn out, but she’s drained.”

“There’s nothing you can do?”

“No,” Niamh said. “I’ve done what I can. She needs rest to recuperate. She’ll need to focus on building her magic stores back up.”

Lorcan looked half ready to pull out his hair. Like he might go back downstairs and throttle one of his own Druids for doing this to Kierse. Even though Ethan hadn’t done it on purposeandhe’d done it on Lorcan’s orders. That had to be the worst of it.

There was always a risk when linking powers. This was what she had been trying to avoid. When they were all low and exhausted, those risks became reality.

Now here Kierse was, in Lorcan’s bed like sleeping beauty. Niamh didn’t know how long she would be out, which was an even bigger concern.

“We’re going to have to tell Graves,” Niamh said.

Lorcan snarled. “He can fucking deal.”

“You know he won’t.”

“She is perfectly safe with me.”

“This isGraveswe’re talking about,” Niamh said. “Youtwo and all your bullshit. He’s going to blow your stupid truce and barge into Brooklyn andtakeher from you. Is that what you want?”

“Let him try,” he snapped.

Niamh didn’t want that. Not for Kierse or Lorcan or the Druids. She would like to avoid an international incident if at all possible.

“I’m going to have Gen call him,” Niamh said. “Okay?”

“Do what you think is best. But if he tries to take her when she’s like this, I’ll kill him,” Lorcan said, his eyes still on Kierse.

Niamh touched his arm. “She’s not Saoirse. You know that, right?”

Lorcan looked like he’d been slapped. “Of course I know that.”

“Okay,” Niamh said, dubious.

She headed to the door and left him sitting at Kierse’s bedside. Sometimes she hated Lorcan for acting as if he were the only one impacted by Saoirse’s death. As if Niamh hadn’t loved her first.

They had been neighbors in their small village on the western coast of Ireland. Back when Niamh had still been figuring out that the world might see her as a boy, but she had always known that she was a little girl. She had played house with Saoirse instead of fighting with her older brothers. Eventually, her mom had stopped giving her britches and started to make little dresses for her. She’d gone through a handful of names over the years since her birth name never fit quite right. It wasn’t until she met Oisín that she realized that the name she had been looking for all along had been Niamh.

And Niamh she had always been.

In those early days in Dublin, Niamh and Saoirse had been inseparable, and what Niamh had thought was simply unrequited pining had finally blown over into something…more. When Lorcan had shown interest in Saoirse and declared their soulmate bond, she had cried herself to sleep in Niamh’s arms. She’d asked her to run away. Niamh still sometimes regretted not doing it.

In that time, a soulmate bond was sacred and special. Niamh couldn’t be the one to take that away from her love.

It had all gotten complicated the day that Lorcan had brought Graves into their midst. A secretive and melancholy youth with none of the ease and humor the rest of them had. Only Emilie seemed to be able to draw him out of his shell in those early days.

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