All the Druids she knew committed spells to memory, which left her with nothing. She didn’t want to die, but she couldn’t go back to Skye. The pull that initially made her leave the isle was still there, refusing to release her. If only she knew what she was supposed to do, then she could do it and be free.
But it wasn’t just that. She had no desire to be back under Corann’s rule. He was a good man, and a powerful Druid elder, but she felt confined on Skye. It wasn’t just the rules she had to follow as a Druid, but the way the elders protected the isle and the Druids limited everyone.
Most didn’t mind it, but Darcy chafed at it from the moment she realized what was going on. No one in her family understood how the restrictions made her feel. They all tried to talk her out of leaving. The only one who understood was her sister who urged her to go.
The funny thing was that Darcy still followed the same rules from Skye. That’s when she knew it wasn’t the rules—it was the elders, namely Corann. Now that she knew he consciously didn’t tell her about the Fae, it infuriated her even more. That information could have prevented last night from happening.
Darcy sat down on the floor and crisscrossed her legs. She placed her hands on her legs and closed her eyes. Meditation had helped her work out problems or spells in the past. There was no reason why it couldn’t work now.
She emptied her mind of everything, though it took a few tries because Warrick’s handsome face kept popping up. Next, she searched her memories of all that she knew of the Dragon Kings. The problem was, what was stored in her mind wasn’t her memories. They were Ulrik’s. But something was better than nothing.
Constantine’s face came into her mind’s eye. It was before he was King of Kings, when he and Ulrik were still as close as brothers. Con’s blond hair was long and wavy, flowing freely past his shoulders. His black eyes were crinkled in the corners as he laughed at something Ulrik said.
That image faded, replaced with another of Con. His hair was pulled back in a queue, and he no longer smiled so freely.
“I’ll no’ fight you,” Ulrik said.
Con’s gaze hardened. “You’re the only one who can challenge me. If you doona, it makes you look weak. The strongest of us needs to be King of Kings.”
“Then let me appear weak. I’ll no’ fight my best friend. Take the crown, Con. It’s yours. You went through enough to ensure that it was.”
“You think I want to fight you?” Con asked, an offended look coming over his face.
“Nay.”
Though Ulrik began to suspect otherwise. He alone knew Con had killed the previous King of Kings. It’s wasn’t murder, but a challenge. The strongest of the Kings was King of Kings, and Con wanted to be uncontested.
Thankfully, that memory faded to one with Ulrik holding a woman in his arms. She was amazingly beautiful with her flame red hair and green eyes. Ulrik’s love was there in his memories. He would’ve done anything for the woman.
Darcy prepared herself for what was next. The first time she’d experienced the memory of his lover’s betrayal she had vomited.
She tensed as the memory flooded her mind. One moment Ulrik was flying back to Dreagan, and the next he was confronted by Con and the rest of the Kings.
At first Ulrik refused to believe them, holding onto denial. Then the fury he felt at that moment assaulted her.
Her eyes snapped opened as she gasped for air. She didn’t have to run to the bathroom, but her stomach rolled for several minutes.
There wasn’t a King out there who understood what Ulrik went through. He’d needed them the most during that time, and they’d turned their backs on him.
Darcy didn’t fool herself though. She’d seen enough of his memories to know he hadn’t exactly been a good person during the time he walked the earth in human form.
Still, she couldn’t help but feel for Ulrik. Not that she would ever tell him that. You didn’t pity a man like Ulrik.
She hoped, delving back into his memories, that she might uncover something important about the Kings. All she found out was that Con might or might not have wanted to kill Ulrik. By taking Ulrik’s magic, banishing him, and condemning him to eternity in human form, Con guaranteed he was unchallenged.
As interesting as that was, it didn’t tell her any more about the Kings.
Darcy got to her feet. She paced her small office for a moment before she went to the back with her flowers and walked among them.
She didn’t know how long she paced before she looked up, halting when she saw a tall, broad shouldered man with long dark hair leaning against a post.
“It took you long enough, Druid,” he said. “Would’ve sucked had I been a Dark.”
As soon as he spoke, she recognized Thorn’s voice from the night before. Darcy glanced around for Warrick, and when she didn’t find him, she met Thorn’s brown gaze.
“I see you found clothes.”
He glanced down at his boots, jeans, and chocolate brown shirt. “So it seems. What has you so agitated?”
Darcy cut him a sharp look. “Really? That’s the question you ask me after last night?”
“The Dark are verra dangerous to be sure. Is that all that has your dander up?”