Rhys couldn’t stop thinking about why the Dark would want a Dragon King. It had to involve the dragons. That was the only explanation.
He was still mulling over that fact when he found the shoes and chose a pair of leather boots in his size. After he put them on, he straightened to find Kiril waiting for him.
Rhys looked over Kiril’s burgundy shirt with a design of an eagle with its wings spread wide on the back in black velvet.
Kiril smiled. “I was trying to find one with a dragon.”
“You could always just wear a sign.”
“I already thought of that,” he teased. The smile dropped. “Ready?”
Rhys cracked his knuckles. “Oh, aye. Let’s find us some Dark Fae scum.”
*
Rhi stayed as long as she could with Denae and Kellan. Only a handful of Fae could remain invisible for an extended period of time, and when they did, they became incredibly weak.
If they appeared in the midst of an enemy, they could be cut down like a piece of grass.
Rhi didn’t want to go to Dreagan in the state she was in, but she had no other choice. They needed to know what was going on. Anytime she faced the Kings, she liked to be at her best. Right now, she was at her absolute worst.
Then she thought of Phelan and searched him out. The fact that the Warrior, an immortal Highlander who had a primeval god inside him, was half Fae helped her pinpoint him easily enough.
It wasn’t until right before she materialized that she took notice of the surroundings and found herself at … Dreagan.
She was too weak to remain incorporeal any longer. Though, she did manage to make sure she was alone in the kitchen when she dropped the veil.
Her legs began to buckle as soon as she materialized. Rhi reached for the chair to hold herself up, but she only accomplished in knocking it over as she fell to the floor in a tangled heap.
Rhi lay on the cool tiles and closed her eyes. She had never used so much of her magic at one time before, and she was paying the price for it now.
“You must be the Fae everyone is talking about.”
Rhi stiffened at the deep voice and turned her head to find deep brown eyes looking at her. His long, golden-streaked brown hair was pulled back in a queue and he wore jeans and a tight-fitting black shirt.
“And you’re Tristan.” She tried to smile, but wasn’t sure she succeeded.
He squatted beside her, his head cocked to the side as he looked anxiously at her. “You look a bit green. Should I be worried?”
“I just need a minute.” She really needed about ten years to sleep, but that wasn’t going to happen.
The sound of footsteps approaching couldn’t even get her up. She remained on her side, her cheek pressed into the tile.
“Rhi?”
She cringed at the sound of worry in Aisley’s voice. Did she look that bad? Before she could answer, Phelan’s wife was beside her.
“Rhi? What’s wrong?” Aisley asked as she smoothed aside Rhi’s hair from her face. “Phelan!”
Instantly, the sound of heavy footsteps approached. They stopped, pausing at the doorway, and Rhi knew Phelan was looking at Tristan.
Well, it was bound to happen soon enough. Con could only interfere with the Warriors and Tristan for so long. If only she felt good enough to rub it in Con’s face, but even that was too much effort.
Rhi opened her eyes and turned her head once more to Tristan who still stared at her. She’d known this time would come, and part of her hadn’t wanted to be near when it did. Still, it was past time. “Do you know Phelan, Tristan?”
Tristan glanced at Phelan, but shook his head as he turned back to her. “Nay. Do you need something to drink? To eat? You’re pale as death.”
“You might want to get that drink for yourself,” she said and tried to sit up. “You’re going to need it more than me.”
Aisley hissed Phelan’s name, and the next moment he was helping Rhi into a chair. Once she was at the table, Rhi dropped her head into her hands and wished she was returning with better news.
The quiet of the kitchen was broken by the sound of Aisley pulling out the chair next to Rhi and sitting. Phelan picked up the one she had toppled over and sank into it on Rhi’s other side, his apprehension and annoyance palpable.
“Rhi?” Phelan urged in a tight tone.
She raised her head, and though he had spoken to her, Phelan’s blue-gray eyes were focused on Tristan who walked back into the kitchen with glasses and a decanter. Rhi covered Phelan’s hand and gave it a squeeze until he looked at her. “He doesn’t know you. He remembers nothing.”
“Nothing?” Phelan asked with a deep frown furrowing his forehead. “Does Ian know?”
“No. You’re the first Warrior to see him.”
Tristan set a glass of whisky in front of her, but held onto the decanter. “And he is in the room with you.”
“Aye,” Phelan said and cleared his throat. “When did you arrive at Dreagan?”
“About two years ago.”
Phelan glanced at Aisley. “Are you a … Dragon King?”
“Aye,” Tristan said with a lopsided smile. “The newest.”
“Your color?”