“Of course,” I said with a gasp.
Mórs were a type of incorporeal faerie that slipped into a sleeper’s dreams and dredged up their victim’s deepest fears. While the sleeper was trapped in the nightmare, the mór fed on their victim’s terror, leaving them even more petrified for the mór’s next visit.
I sipped a mouthful of hot tea, not noticing how it burned my tongue. Left undetected, the mór would eventually reduce its victim to a living husk, too frightened to live or eat or sleep. If the victim committed suicide, the mór would devour their tortured and twisted soul.
Even the barest scrap of iron could keep them away, but the Book of Brigit described them as a force of nature, rather than faeries that could be slain.
“Does anyone know how to kill a mór?” I asked.
Everyone shook their heads.
Drayce turned to Aengus. “Does the Fear Dorcha have a body?”
He nodded and uncorked his bottle with a dull pop. “He’s also half-Fomorian, which means he has a body as well as a soul.”
“Everyone I questioned said the Fear Dorcha handed them objects to bring to the palace,” added Captain Maith. “Perhaps he slips into dreams with his mind instead of his body.”
Drayce reached across the table and took a piece of shortbread. “My power works best on souls occupying stolen bodies. If I get close enough, I will try to rip out his essence.”
A doubt itched at the back of my mind. Drayce couldn’t kill Melusina directly because she was a nathair that was only vulnerable to the attacks of their parents or children. It was the reason why he tricked her into unearthing Queen Pressyne’s skeleton. If the Fear Dorcha had special abilities, he might survive our attack.
“What if that doesn’t work?” I asked.
“Then I’ll try again when he’s on the brink of death,” Drayce replied.
Osmos leaned forward. “According to my research, the Fear Dorcha can sense whether intruders into the Summer Court are intending to break his curse.”
We all fell silent. I was about to ask Drayce if he could shield us with his shadows, but that would also mean not being able to see.
“I can scratch glyphs into iron charms.” Cathbad winced. “But you’d need to wear them against your skin.”
“What about a bag of salt around the neck?” I asked.
“It’s better than nothing,” Cathbad replied.
I massaged my temples just as the door clicked open, and faeries with skin the color of apricots flew in on gossamer wings. Each held platters of meat and cheese and vegetable slices placed between wafers of bread. The warm aroma of fresh bread and roasted meat filled my nostrils, making my mouth water.
After laying the finger food on the low table, they bowed and flew out of the room. I picked one containing roasted beef, wondering how Nessa was faring in the kitchens. We ate in silence, each contemplating the adventure ahead. If Melusina was there, I could end the turmoil in the kingdom by striking the killing blow. Then the Fear Dorcha would have to listen to me or perish.
Drayce and I were ravenous from our busy morning, and we ate half the platter. I glanced at Osmos and Cathbad, who ate only the bread that contained vegetables. Cathbad whispered something to Osmos, who smiled. Perhaps they had become friends after all.
“Your Majesty.” Rosalind twisted around in her seat. “Are you sure that killing the Fear Dorcha will break the curse over the Summer Court?”
I stilled, my snack halfway to my mouth. In careful, slow words, I asked, “What do you mean?”
“Some curses remain after the death of their caster,” she replied. “We don’t know if one old and widespread enough to affect an entire Court won’t continue if you don’t force the Fear Dorcha to lift it.”
“There’s only one person to ask.” I rose to my feet, and everybody followed.
“Who?”
“Erin,” I snarled. “And she’s going to lead us directly to the Fear Dorcha.”
Chapter 22
We found Erin still wrapped in shadows and pinned to the wall of the stone chamber. Unlike last night, she had her hooves on the ground and a pair of bowls containing food and water by her forelegs. Pale sunlight streamed down from the openings I had made high up on the wall, making the tufts on her yellow ears gleam like cornsilk.
Erin raised her head and jerked back within the confines of her restraints.
“What do you want?” she said.
“Release her,” I said to Drayce.
The shadows receded into the wall, and the doe fell onto her knees, heaving several panting breaths. Her ears twisted outward as though listening out for threats or sudden movement. I folded my arms across my chest and waited for her to speak.
“Thank you,” she said with a long, outward breath. “Please, you’ve got to know that I bear you no ill will. I was just so desperate—”
“You’re free to leave.” I stepped toward her with a hand over my sword. “On one condition.”
Erin struggled onto her hooves and raised her head to meet my gaze. She was four-feet-tall, which was large for a doe, with thick, dark lashes over eyes as green as my mate’s.
“Your Majesty,” her voice slowed with caution. “What do you want in return for my freedom?”
I paused. Erin had attempted more than once to lure me into a trap—the first by appearing before the carriage and luring us into the Summer Court. I was partially to blame for that one as I could have flown in the opposite direction, but the desperation of recognizing her from the dreamscape made me give chase.
The second time was the night before, a deliberate attempt to bring the Fear Dorcha’s shadow into the palace. I had ordered the oak sprite’s torture for cursing Drayce, yet this doe… this Summer Court female had gotten a night of confinement and a meal.
Leaning close to Erin’s tufty ears, I said, “You’re going to
