Page 114 of Keeper of Storms
“I can’t risk anyone else getting their hands on these words,” Adonis murmured, slowly rubbing his thick beard. It had grown rough as he’d aged, now peppered with far more grey than brown. He felt that age in his bones as well. He moved slower now. His back often ached. Occasionally, even his knees would pop.
Cyril let out an impatient huff. “What do you think?”
“I think I underestimated your little smuggler friend,” Adonis said, pursing his lips. “He seems to have infiltrated the fae courts and passed himself off as one of them. Using something he calls Unseelie magic. Magic that we can get. All of us.”
“We should take it, father.” Cyril leaned forward, his eyes flashing. “Think of what we can do with that. Humanity, saved. Immortality would be ours for the taking.”
“Yes, but we’d have to sail our armies there,” Adonis pointed out. “The fae would fight us.”
“They’ve been fighting each other for decades. There won’t be enough of them left to take on our entire army.”
Adonis slowly nodded. He turned to gaze out the window at the western horizon, toward the fae lands that waited on the other side of the Mag Mell Sea. Adonis had never met a fae in his life, but he’d hated them for as long as he could remember. They took humans as slaves. His mother had been one of them, stolen when he’d only been a boy of five. He could barely even remember her face.
And now humanity had a chance to turn the tide.
“Prepare the armies,” Adonis said, pushing up from his desk with fisted hands. “The time for us to sail to Tir Na Nog has come.”
* * *
