Page 139 of Go Luck Yourself
I look at him, and I should feelsomething,but every emotion bounces off a shield of numbness. Loch’s face is blotchy and his eyes are round with all that shame he’s been keeping at bay—that’s what it’s been. Every time he pulled away from me.Shame.
“You were stealing Christmas’s joy,” I state. “You were stealingit to help compensate for what Malachy wasn’t letting you have. So you could keep your Holiday running. You were using it tohelpyour Holiday.”
Somewhere off to the side, Finn curses. It’s far away.
Loch doesn’t respond. He doesn’t agree or assure me that’s what happened. He stands there looking broken.
Malachy laughs. The pop of noise drags my focus back to him.
“Is that what he told you?” he asks. “Allegedly,who do you think acquired one of those handy little devices to siphon off joy? This prince no one trusts, who has no resources, who had to resort to stealingfrom meoriginally, or someone who has spent his life building the largest, most successful business in this country? I will give Lochlann credit where it’s due; he was exceptionally quick to get on board. Though he wasn’t successful at covertly installing the device in Christmas. Even so, the magic he stole went a long way towards paying off what he owed me. Again,allegedly.”
Malachy is all I can see. A tunnel narrowing, narrowing until there’s just his arrogant face while dozens of pieces shift around me, a kaleidoscope coalescing and parting only to reform.
I suspected Loch of stealing from us. I suspected Malachy of stealing from us.
I never thought it wasbothof them.
Both of them, doing it so Loch could repay what Malachy said he used last year.
Not to help his Holiday. Not some desperate way to fight back against his uncle.
They were workingtogether.
I’m staring at Malachy, and I jerk my eyes away, unable to get my thoughts to stop pulsing around me.
Did you get the Christmas Prince into bed like I told you to?
“Congratulations on having St. Patrick’s Day now, Lochlann,” comes Malachy’s snide voice. “I do hope this doesn’t start your reign on a bad note.”
“Getout!” Loch’s shout rattles off the ceiling, but so do Malachy’s footsteps as he crosses the foyer, opens the front doors, and leaves.
He’s not been gone for a second before Loch closes the space between us.
“Kris.” He’s panting. “Look at me.”
His command kicks into all the other times he’s commanded me in the past twenty-four hours.
My eyes lift to his. Dutifully. Hopefully,beggingly.
“You stole Christmas’s magic for your uncle,” I state. “Withyour uncle. You gave our magic to him, and he put it into his business, not your Holiday. You didn’t use any of it to help St. Patrick’s Day.”
He doesn’t react at first.
I can’t breathe.
It’s the only thing that keeps me from yelling at him.
Finally, he nods, eyelids pulsing in suppressed misery.
“He told you to… to go after me.” My voice is shockingly emotionless; it makes goosebumps go up my own arms. “He’s the one who wanted me to be here for the week. He told you to get in with me, so I’d be thrown off from investigating the theft. So you could manipulate me. You were working with him the whole time.”
Loch goes green, like he might be ill. “That’snotwhat this—”
I hold up my hand, staying him, eyes holding on his, burning.
“Did your uncle tell you to go after me so you two could manipulate me?”
“He did, but Kris—”
