A Cursed Love: New Adult Fantasy Romance (Myths of Airren Book 3) by Jenny Hickman

Author:Jenny Hickman [Hickman, Jenny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Midnight Tide Publishing
Published: 2023-11-21T16:00:00+00:00

28

KEELYNN

No matter what I did, Brogan wouldn’t stop crying. The poor little boy’s eyes were so swollen, they barely opened. When they did, I swore he glared as if he blamed me for his mother abandoning him. He refused the bottle and even the crushed-up biscuit mixed with milk. I tried rocking him, singing to him—which, admittedly, would make anyone cry. I was at my wit’s end, and once again Tadhg was nowhere to be found.

Rían stepped out of the study, but when he saw me standing at the foot of the stairs, he darted straight back inside. I couldn’t blame him for hiding. I’d hide too if Tadhg hadn’t left me to deal with Brogan on my own. After two full days at the castle, it was Millie’s day off, and while I’d been happy to give her time with her own husband and family, I desperately needed assistance. Which was why I followed Rían into the study, finding him about to slip through the door to the great hall.

“Where is Leesha?” I wasn’t supposed to befriend her out of loyalty to my sister, but at this stage, I’d have befriended Fiadh if she could return from the underworld and calm the child.

Rían’s lips pursed as he scowled at Brogan thrashing in my arms. “She’s gone.”

“Gone where?”

Rían shrugged.

Wasn’t that just bloody brilliant? I tried to sway my hips the way Millie had, but the movement only made Brogan more cross. “Have you seen your brother?”

“He’s in the family room.”

Back in the hallway, Ruairi waited with his back against the tapestries and one booted foot propped against the wall outside the family room. When I tried to enter, he slid in front of me. “Where might ye be going, human?”

Brogan stopped crying the moment Ruairi started speaking. Fat tears clung to his long, dark lashes, and his full lower lip trembled as he blinked up at the pooka. “I need to speak to Tadhg.”

Ruairi stood up taller. “He’s indisposed.”

“I know I’m the only human of you lot”—a fact I was still not happy about—“but I swear, if you don’t move by the time I count to three, I will tear every hair from your arm. One…”

Ruairi threw the door open in a flash; the wood slammed against the wall inside, sending Brogan into another fit.

I knew exactly how the little boy felt. “Thank you, Ruairi.”

Instead of remaining in the hall, Ruairi padded quietly behind me.

I found my dearly betrothed surrounded by empty bottles, a glass cradled against his chest the way his son should have been. His eyes were closed, but his brow was furrowed, as if his dreams plagued him.

“Is he drunk again?” That or he was dead because no one should have been able to sleep through Brogan’s racket.

“Afraid so,” Ruairi murmured.

I should’ve run down to the kitchens to borrow a pot and wooden spoon and bang them right next to his ear.

But Tadhg would be of no help if he didn’t sleep off whatever drink he’d consumed.

Drunk at noon on a Tuesday.

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