Page 81 of Crownless Heirs

“It means someone was trying to hide you…” she met his eyes.

Niall raised a brow. “And?”

Sorcha slid the list across the table. “Your father is the Dagda.” Fergal blinked. “Say that again.”

“It’s true,” Sorcha said. “And we need you. Your knowledge of the sea, your power... We can’t reach the far corners of Eadartha without it.”

Fergal let out a slow breath, the wind tossing his hair across his face, but his eyes never left the list. “You’re crazy,” he said, shaking his head. Then he looked at Niall. “And you’re even crazier for believing any of this.”

He stood and walked toward the bar. Sorcha moved to follow, but Niall blocked her path. “Let me,” Niall said.

Fergal asked the barmaid for a pint, landing on the stool with a thud. He was rubbing his temples when Niall appeared beside him. “Make that two,” Niall told the barmaid and slid into the seat next to Fergal.

“Why the hell are you believing any of this?” Fergal demanded. “Since when have the gods cared for the people beyond their walls? We fight for power, for food, their monsters, and even their blood, and they just watch as we die.” Fergal’s anger was palpable.

Two mugs slid beside them. Niall took a few long gulps before turning to Fergal. “I don’t think the gods care at all, honestly. I don’t know why I’m following her; she could be a raving loon, but something is different...” He trailed off, looking into his mug.

“A feeling, Niall? You’re going to have to do better than that,” Fergal countered.

Niall exhaled loudly before answering. “Fergal, you and I have always been different, built differently, and I know you know that as well. I also have noticed the change in the land, our people, and the creatures that reside beside us. Something is happening. We can either sit here and work ourselves to the bone pretending everything is alright, or we can try to find answers.”

Fergal finished his pint and slammed it onto the bar. “You know, leave it to the gods to send you to sway my actions.” He smiled wide at Niall. “Alright, Niall. I’m with you.”

Niall finished his mead as well and stood. “Let’s go make friends.”

Fergal laughed loudly and followed Niall back toward the table. Fergal stood there, eyeing the group, before he sat back down, never taking his eyes off Sorcha.

Niall gestured to Maelan as he sat back down. “So, he turns into a giant cat.”

Fergal blinked, “Excuse me?”

“He’s a Cait Sidhe,” Kyron corrected.

“Thanks,” Maelan chimed in.

“Mm-hmm,” Fergal grunted, barely audible.

Sorcha watched Fergal, the golden light at her fingertips sparkling and swirling like liquid. She was clearly trying to impress him, but Fergal remained unmoved.

He raised his hands. “Alright, alright. I get it. You’re all gifted.”

He sat still, hands flat on the table, his gaze fixed. Sorcha watched him intently. She didn’t want to pressure him, but time was short. They needed his help.

Leaning forward, her voice calm, she said, “Niall mentioned you’ve always championed others, and this cause needs you as well. We all do.”

Fergal spoke without looking at her. “You want me to abandon everything and sail into the unknown, with no guarantee of return or proof of its existence.”

Sorcha paused, then nodded. “Yes.”

Fergal leaned back, his fingers tapping the table twice. He exhaled softly. “Alright. I’ll help you, if Niall goes.”

Sorcha’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Thank you.”

Fergal stood and grabbed his coat. “Don’t thank me yet. Let’s just hope we make it back.”

Niall heartily clapped Fergal on the back, rattling the table. His grin was wide as he hoisted his mug. “That’s the spirit!”

Fergal let out a loud laugh. He grabbed his own drink and raised it. “I guess I’m just as crazy as the lot of you.”