They look at each other, then Conall mouths a single word. Blood. Connor nods.
I look to my brother, the flare of his nostrils all the confirmation I need to know he smells it too. A chill trips down my spine, but I’m more than ready to face down whatever’s on the other side of this door.
The Woulfe brothers silently count to three, then we push our way into the room. We stand on guard, our muscles tense, our stances ready to spring into action. But no one jumps out, and no one is waiting, poised to fight us. Staying alert, we take in the scene.
As the room where the high rollers won and lost fortunes, I’m not surprised that it’s even more opulent than where we came from. But there’s no time to appreciate the details, because at a glance we know one thing is for certain: we’re too late.
On the other side of the room, the broken remains of a display case cover the floor. Among the shattered glass and splintered wood lies a spear, broken in half and discarded next to the limp body of an older male. Slumped on his side, his long, white hair covers his face, and his outstretched arm rests in the pool of blood seeping from his chest wound.
I move to help him, but Finn stops me. “Not yet. It could be a trap. Connor?”
“On it,” Connor says, handing his gun over to his brother. Then he magically shifts. His clothes magically disappear as russet-colored fur replaces smooth skin, and he lands on all fours in the form of a massive wolf with paws nearly as big as my head.
I’ve never been this close to a wolf shifter, and I find myself properly awestruck watching Connor run the perimeter of the room, scenting different areas. The tension in the air is palpable as we wait for him to finish while a person lies mortally wounded, possibly already gone.
Seemingly satisfied that we’re not in danger of being ambushed, Connor approaches the male and nudges him with his nose. He grunts in response. Connor takes a few steps back and sits on his haunches, which is apparently the sign for “all clear” because Finn releases my arm and the group rushes forward.
Conall meets his brother’s bright golden eyes and nods. “He says he’s alive, but he doesn’t have long.”
I blink in surprise. “How do you know that?”
He walks over to a wall and yanks down a velvet tapestry. “Shifters in a family are telepathic while in animal form, but our twin bond allows it even if only one of us shifts.” He hurries back and hands me the bunched-up fabric. “Put this under his head. Finn, let’s get him straightened out.”
The male groans as they gently roll him onto his back while I place the makeshift pillow beneath his head. “There you go,” I say softly. “Nice and easy, we got you.”
Being careful of any potential head wounds, I use a finger to brush his long hair away from his face…and my heart stops.
“Holy shit,” Finn says. “This is the guy I saw in my vision placing the clue at the Bellagio for Moira.”
Tears blur my vision as he opens his eyes a mere sliver. Barely enough to see the familiar lavender pools staring up at me. “Tar…yn…”
All gazes land on me. Concern lines Finn’s face as he asks, “Who is this?”
“His name is Garyth.” A sire lost… “Moira wasn’t referring to a dead king. She was referring to a lost father.” Centuries of heartache and longing knot in my throat. “My lost father.”
TWENTY-EIGHTTARYN
The world narrows down to the trembling hand of my father clutching the spear wound in his chest. The sharp tang of blood mixes with the ancient smell of the room, every breath I take feeling like shards of glass.
His voice is barely more than a whispered rasp. “Mo iníon…luachmhar.” My precious daughter.
A thousand memories flood my mind—his laughter echoing in the royal gardens, the warmth of his embrace on cold nights, his stories of battles and bravery that fueled my own warrior spirit. Seeing him here, after so long, and in such a state, tears at my soul.
“I’m here, Athair,” I say, my voice breaking on the Faerish word for father. I clutch his hand, willing my strength into him, as if that alone can keep him with me. “I’m right here.”
Eyes that match mine, though dim, swim with relief and a lifetime of love. His fingers twitch in my grasp, his breaths shallow and labored, each one a struggle. I hold on tighter, my tears falling onto his blood-soaked shirt. “Stay with me, Athair,” I beg. “Please.”
“Bryn,” Finn shouts, tearing my father’s shirt to expose his chest.
The sight sends a cold shock through me, evoking an anguished gasp. The wound is a jagged, gaping tear, dark with clotted blood and raw edges. Finn moves to my side as Bryn kneels with my father between us. I feel Dmitri’s presence at my back, standing sentry over me in case I need him, while Conall and Connor, still in his wolf form, watch the scene from a respectful distance.
Caiden steps closer. “Bryn, this isn’t a good idea.”
“I’ll be fine,” she says firmly. Then she lifts her gaze to me, her hazel eyes heavy with sympathy. “I’ll do everything I can, I promise.”
I nod, unable to speak around the tightness in my throat, and watch as she places her hands over my father’s chest. A bright light emanates from her palms, her expression one of immense concentration.
I hold my breath and wait. And wait. And wait. Eternal seconds pass with almost no change. Bryn’s hands begin to tremble as sweat beads on her brow, dampening her blond hairline. I’ve seen healers in Faerie work plenty of times on injuries far worse than this one. I know what it looks like when their powers are working. And this isn’t it.
My father’s eyes slide closed and panic seizes my heart. “What’s wrong? Why isn’t anything happening?”
Finn looks at his sister-in-law. “You healed me when Edevane ran me through with an iron blade. You can do this, Bryn.”
She frowns uncertainly. “Something is different about his wound. It’s causing damage faster than I can repair it.”
Caiden curses and drags a hand over his jaw. “Edevane had to have used the Spear of Assal. No one is meant to heal from a weapon of the gods. I’m sorry, Taryn, but I’m afraid not even Bryn, as powerful as she is, can save him from this.”
The dam inside me breaks, and I can't hold back the sobs any longer. “No! Please, Athair. I have so many things I want to say to you. Please don’t leave me again. Not like this, not when I’ve only just found you,” I finish weakly.
“Taryn,” Bryn says gently, moisture welling in her own eyes. “Caiden’s right, I can’t reverse this. But I can try to heal him enough so you can say goodbye. That’s the best I can do.”
I nod emphatically, grateful for every second she can give me. “Yes, please try.”
“Bryn,” Caiden objects.
She glances over her shoulder at him. “You know I have to do this.”
His jaw pops in clear agitation as he wars with his answer. Finally, he gives her a meaningful look and says, “Listen for my voice.”
“I always do.” Something passes between them I’m not meant to understand. Then he acquiesces with a stiff nod.
Turning her attention back to my father, she takes a deep breath and starts again. This time, the light from her hands slowly travels up her arms. Her eyes begin to glow, the green centers of her irises melding with the outer golden ring, like nothing I’ve ever seen on any fae. Caiden paces behind his mate as energy crackles in the air around her.
I watch in amazement as a hint of color starts to work its way back into my father’s face, the look of pain lessening as his breaths come easier. “It’s working,” I say excitedly.
Bryn grits her teeth as her hands begin to tremble and sweat pours from her temples.
“Bryn,” Caiden warns.
“Not yet.” Never letting up, she slams her eyes shut and redoubles her efforts, the light of her healing power now spreading to her entire body and her long, blond hair floating in an invisible breeze.
My father’s eyes flutter open. “Taryn…”
“Yes! It’s me, I’m here.”
I’ve imagined all the things I would say to him if ever given the chance a thousand times. But none of those things are what comes out as I try to speak around my choked sobs.
“I’m so, so sorry. I’m not the daughter you raised me to be.” The words tumble out, each one heavier than the last, the weight of my shame threatening to crush me into dust. “I hurt so many of our people, and then I abandoned them. I couldn’t protect Devlyn, and now I’m too late to save you. Forgive me, Athair. I have failed you.”
