“Why?”
“It’s my way of trying to pretend that I’m over him, that I don’t still love him with everything that I am. That I don’t need him every moment of every day no matter what realm I’m in.”
“Have I met him?”
Rhi might not be able to lie, but she could refuse to answer a question.
“If you ever change your mind and want me to deck him a couple of times across the jaw, just whisper his name in my ear,” Phelan said as he put an arm around her.
Rhi let him lead her onto the porch. When she looked up, Aisley was at the door, a sympathetic smile on her face.
She didn’t even care that Aisley had overheard the conversation. Aisley and Phelan shared everything. There were no secrets in their marriage. They’d learned the hard way how secrets could destroy. It had cost Aisley her life. Good thing she had been a Phoenix, or Phelan wouldn’t have her now.
Once inside the cottage, Rhi took the overstuffed chair in a dark blue and deep purple plaid. She accepted the glass of whisky from Aisley. Rhi didn’t even ask if it was Dreagan, because she knew it was.
“So,” Aisley said as she sat beside Phelan on the sofa and tucked her legs beside her. “What brings you to see us?”
“There’s a Druid in a bit of a bind.”
Phelan frowned. “Where?”
“Edinburgh,” Rhi answered. She took a sip of the whisky and answered the next question she knew they would ask. “She’s from the Isle of Skye.”
Aisley and Phelan exchanged a look. “Skye,” Aisley repeated, concern pinching her lips.
Rhi watched the play of emotions cross Aisley’s face. She hadn’t been sure how Aisley would react knowing that Darcy came from the same isle as she did.
“What kind of trouble is she in?” Phelan asked, his fingers curling around Aisley’s hand.
Rhi pressed her lips together. “The absolute worst kind. The Dark Fae are after her.”
“What?” Aisley cried.
“Her name is Darcy Allen, and she left Skye seven years ago,” Rhi explained. “She’s smart and is quite potent in the magic department.”
Phelan’s frown was growing by the moment. “That wouldna bring the Dark to her door.”
“Nope. That would be Ulrik.” Rhi tossed back the rest of the whisky as the two digested her information. She set the glass on the table next to her and crossed one leg over the other. “Ulrik has been visiting Druids for centuries looking for one who might be able to unbind his magic.”
Aisley let out a breath. “How did we not know this?”
“Does it matter?” Phelan asked. He sat forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Go on, Rhi.”
She eyed them both before she continued. “Every Druid Ulrik visited who attempted to touch dragon magic died. Everyone, that is, except Darcy.”
“Shite,” Phelan murmured.
“Exactly,” Rhi said. “She wasn’t just able to touch the dragon magic binding Ulrik’s, but she was able to undo enough of it that Ulrik had some of his magic returned.”
“She’s the only one?” Aisley asked, a frown marring her forehead.
Rhi nodded. “Yes. We’re not sure who sent the Dark after her, but they don’t intend to let up anytime soon.”
“Who’s watching over her now? Just you?” Phelan asked.
Rhi glanced away, wondering if she should’ve done more to help Darcy. Rhi had been too intent on her own misery to think of anyone else, even after Ulrik asked her to watch over Darcy. That wouldn’t have happened before her torture with Balladyn.
“Rhi?” Aisley called.
She mentally shook herself and focused on the couple. “Two Dragon Kings are there. Warrick and Thorn.”
“I doona know Thorn.” Phelan scrubbed a hand down his face, his blue gray eyes boring into Rhi’s. “I barely know Warrick.”
“The Kings are the Kings,” Rhi said with a shrug. “What do you want me to tell you? Thorn recently woke. He likes to walk close to danger, which is what makes him so good in battle situations.”
Aisley put both feet on the floor and clasped her hands together in her lap. “And Darcy? How is she doing?”
“She’s still alive. The Dark broke through her magic protecting her shop easily enough. If Warrick and Thorn hadn’t added their dragon magic, I’m not sure she’d still be there.”
Phelan rose and made a round of the living room, as he thought things over. “How many Dark are there?”
“A lot. Thorn said he stopped counting at forty-eight.”
“Forty-eight?” Phelan asked as he halted and shot her a look. “The last time I saw that many, we were in Ireland.”
Rhi swiped her hand through her hair. “I know. That doesn’t even count the many Thorn and Warrick killed. Warrick is with Darcy while Thorn remains hidden. The Dark think there’s only one King in the city.”
“Then Con should send more,” Aisley replied angrily.