Fire Rising

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Tristan found himself at the cottage in less time than it took him to think of it. He looked at the stone structure and the double doors he had followed Sammi through as his desire had flared.

Remembering that night, the passion, the sighs, the pleasure, sent his blood heating. How in the world could he be here with her and not give in to his need?

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Fallon asked.

Tristan shifted his gaze to him. “You mean, can I put Ian in danger?”

“Aye. He has a wife, a home. A life.”

“You doona think I realize that?”

“Nay, I doona. I think you’re so wrapped up in the workings of the Kings that you’ll sacrifice anything and anyone to get to the endgame.”

Tristan raised a brow at the unspoken leader of the Warriors. “Tell me, Fallon, when I was supposedly this Duncan, did we get along?”

“We did. Why?”

“Because I’m finding it hard not to put my fist into your jaw.”

“Enough,” Ian said as he walked out of the cottage.

Tristan barely spared him a glance as his gaze landed on Sammi. Worry lines bracketed her mouth, and her powder blue eyes were filled with doubt and indecision.

He understood exactly how she felt. His plan would work, but that didn’t mean he liked any of it. There was a large chunk of it that he hadn’t shared with any of them, because if they knew, none would have agreed to the plan.

Ian stopped several feet from Tristan. “How did it go with Ulrik?”

“No’ as I’d hoped.”

Sammi let out a relieved sigh. “He didn’t want you. Thank God.”

“He didna have much to say, actually,” Tristan said as he walked to her. He couldn’t keep any kind of distance from her. She drew him much like the sun drew flowers.

She looked up at him, her hand on his chest. “Now comes the waiting, right?”

“I doona think we’ll have to wait long,” Ian said as he moved around them to enter the cottage.

Tristan looked at Fallon to see him staring angrily. Fallon was furious that he was willing to put Ian’s life on the line. Odd that he wasn’t irate with Ian for being prepared to do it.

“If you have something to say, say it,” Tristan demanded of Fallon.

Fallon’s dark green eyes narrowed dangerously. “Ian is one of ours. You Kings may be cavalier with your own lives, but we can no’ be. You may no’ remember who you once were, but the rest of us do, especially the man you’re so casually using as bait.”

As soon as the last syllable left Fallon’s mouth, he jumped away. Tristan drew in a long breath and returned his gaze to Sammi.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Ian?” she asked softly.

He shrugged. “Probably for the same reason that I wouldna see him.”

“No one can know what you’re going through, so don’t let anyone try to tell you that it’s wrong. You have to decide what’s best for you. You’re a Dragon King, Tristan. I’m not saying the Warriors aren’t important. They are.”

“I know,” he said and slid his fingers into the cool locks of her hair. “And thank you.”

“I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“I shouldna have, but I had to see you.”

She pulled away and out of his arms. “There’s no need to say such things. I know you need me to help set the trap.”

“You think I’m lying?” He was so taken aback that he could only gawk at her.

“This isn’t the time. Good luck,” she said and walked back into the cottage, closing the door quietly behind her.

It would’ve hurt less had she slammed the door, but her calm acceptance of what she thought he had done was enough to snap his control.

“Let her go,” Ian said from behind him.

Tristan whirled around to find Ian on the porch that came off the master bedroom. He glanced at the door, but knew going after Sammi now would only cause more damage. Ian let his gaze look around him. “Spectacular view. Now I know why the Kings chose this place. But there is something about this cottage that has Sammi tied in knots. Her frequent looks into this bedroom,” he said and pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, “tells me everything. No’ half as much as your reaction when you found her with me, however.”

Tristan swallowed. What did he say to the man who was his twin? A man he saw bits and pieces of through memories as fleeting as sand through his fingers.

“You should’ve seen her reaction when she first saw me. Sammi thought I was you. Whatever you did to send her running must have been bad.”

“I did it to save her life.”

Ian nodded absently. “And possibly crushed whatever was blooming between the two of you in the process.”

“How can I have her in my life when I doona even know who I am? Am I Tristan, the Dragon King? Or am I Duncan, the Warrior?”

“Why can you no’ be both?”

Tristan opened his mouth to answer, but he quickly closed it. Could he be both Dragon King and Warrior? Could he accept his past as twin to Ian and still give himself to the Kings?

Ian rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “I doona expect anything from you. I just wanted to see you. I wasna there when Deirdre had you killed. I’ve regretted every day since that I remained behind at the castle.”

“I doona know how I died, and I’m no’ sure I want to know.”

“It doesna matter. None of it does anymore. It’s enough that you’re here. Whether you ever regain your memories or no’, I’m once more complete knowing you’re alive.”

Tristan looked into eyes the same deep brown as his own. Ian was giving him a way out so he wouldn’t have to have any more contact once this was over. Is that what he wanted? He wasn’t so sure now. “This plan could go all pear-shaped.”

“That could be said for any plan. Just remember Dani will have your arse if anything happens to me,” he said with a smile.

But Tristan couldn’t smile. He knew the possibility that the very worst could happen was high. “Go home to your wife.”

Ian’s smile was replaced with incredulity. “Pardon me?”

“Fallon was right. You have a wife. Go home to Danielle.”

“And what will you do?”

“Whatever has to be done.”

Ian grunted, affronted by his answer. “Even if that means letting the Dark take you?”

“Even then.”

“Nay,” Ian said with icy fury. “I wasna by your side the last time. I’ll no’ leave it now.”

Tristan looked to the sky. The Kings were keeping their distance from the cottage so the Dark Ones would think they were safe to attack. “We willna be together now. The Dark can no’ see two of us.”

“Exactly. Get your ass moving.”

“Standing in for me willna change the past.”

Ian crossed his arms over his chest, his expression flat. “I’m immortal, you ass.”

“But you’ve no’ see what the Dark Ones can do. Immortality will only make their torture last longer. Now that Ulrik has refused me, my place is here. I’ll be the one to confront the Dark and keep them away from Sammi.”

“I’m no’ leaving. I agreed to your plan. Let us carry it out so Sammi can be safe and you can prepare to do some serious begging for her forgiveness.”

Tristan had no other argument to sway Ian away. He hated that he liked the guy. Whatever reason he had, Ian readily countered it. There was nothing for him to do but accept that Ian wasn’t going to leave, and make damn sure that he was ready when the Dark came.

Because they would come.

“Stay vigilant. The Dark are no’ like any of the Druids you’ve fought. They’re much more devious, and will appear in the room before you’ve even realized they’re there.”

Ian dropped his arms and nodded. “Anything else?”

“They like to show off. They want a Dragon King, so they’ll make a big show of attempting to take Sammi. I’ll be near to step in before they can take either of you.”

“You hope.”

Tristan looked away. He did hope. He couldn’t stay too close to the cottage for fear the Dark would see him and Ian, but he couldn’t be too far away and not get to them in time. It was a huge chance he was taking, but he was also prepared to follow them back to Ireland and comb those tunnels to find them.

“Good luck,” Tristan said. He started to walk off when Ian held out his hand. Tristan looked from his outstretched hand to his face before he clasped Ian’s forearm.

Ian’s hand tightened on his forearm as a smile appeared. “It’s good to have you back, whether you’re Duncan or Tristan.”

With that, Ian turned on his heel and walked into the cottage.

Tristan turned to the mountains and the growing darkness. The Dark Ones could come at any time, but they preferred the night. It was no wonder so many people were afraid of the dark. They knew what was inside it—the Dark Fae.

Rhi whistled a made-up tune as she walked the halls of Usaeil’s home, a grand thirty-two-room castle built out of granite on the coast of Donegal Bay and surrounded by gardens that reached as far as the wooded hillside beyond. It wasn’t the colossal, vast palace in the Fae world, but it suited her queen perfectly.

Her rubber-soled biker boots made nary a sound as she walked the black and white checkerboard floors. Usaeil had been calling her for some time now. As one of the Queen’s Guard, Rhi had to have a good excuse for ignoring her queen.

Explaining that she was helping the Dragon Kings wouldn’t win her any favors. Then again, with the Dark rising, the Light needed friends.

Not that Rhi wanted any of the Dragon Kings as friends. The history between Rhi and the Kings went back a long way, and the hurt ran deep—on both sides.

They blamed her, and she blamed them, well, one in particular—Con.

She didn’t notice the murals of the Fae world painted along every corridor. She had been down this hallway too many times to pay them any heed now. Though she could remember the first time she had seen them. They had been painted to remind the Fae of their glory years, a time when they dominated any and all realms they chose to visit.

A time before the Dark attacked the Light.

Everything the Fae had gained fell apart like a kid knocking over blocks. It crumbled into dust, their power fading as quickly as Rome’s did on Earth.

She returned to the Fae realm, but not nearly as often as she once had. When her family had died there had been nothing to pull her home.

The closest thing she had to a home was her cottage, her secret place warded against other Fae, Dragon Kings, Druids, mortals, and any other supernatural being that might try and find her.

It was her refuge, her sanctuary. Her asylum.

Rhi came to the doors that separated her from her queen. As she reached them, they swung open of their own accord. It was one of Usaeil’s tricks in her unlimited bag of magic.

As soon as she saw Usaeil on the small leather bench with a fan blowing her hair and lights staged around her, Rhi rolled her eyes and took a seat to await her turn after the photo session was over.

Few knew that Usaeil moonlighted as a famous movie star. This current photo shoot was for some US magazine Usaeil had wanted the cover for. And as with anything her queen wanted, her queen got.

As soon as Usaeil saw her, she waved away the photographer, who just happened to be another Fae. Oh, how the Kings would be furious if they knew just how deep the Light had embedded themselves into the lives of mortals.

“Where have you been?” Usaeil demanded as she rose and stalked toward her.

Rhi looked over the black leather pants and white silk shirt that was open and see-through to reveal a sexy black bra. “I like the outfit.”

“Thanks, but don’t change the subject.” Her queen sighed. “Rhi, times are changing for all of us, even the mortals, though they don’t know it yet.”

Rhi looked down at her freshly polished nails, painted a toasty warm brown color called I Knead Sour-Dough and a design of swirls in gold and black. “I was lending a hand to the Kings.”

“Good. And you need to get back there ASAP.”

Rhi frowned as she looked at her queen to see if she had sprouted two heads. Not once had Usaeil ever told her to help the Kings. “What?”

“The Dark are planning to attack, and the Kings think they can handle things themselves. You and I both know that isn’t the case. Now get moving, and be sure to report back to me as soon as it’s over,” she ordered and walked away, calling to the photographer as she did.

Summarily dismissed, Rhi hesitated only a moment before she teleported to Dreagan.