“And so the charming boy learned of his charmed life,” Brendan said. “Riagan took his place on the throne, and during his reign, the kingdom flourished. And in a crofter’s cottage at the edge of the dark forest, the greedy Comyna lived out her days, with only a bagful of pink stones found on the bottom of a small stream, knowing she had been bested by the boy with the silver tongue.”
Brendan reached over and ruffled Liam’s hair. “How was that?”
“Good,” Liam murmured with a smile. “I feel better now.”
Conor frowned. “What was wrong before?”
Liam heard Sean suck in a sharp breath and Brian nudged him in the ribs, a silent plea to keep his mouth shut. But Liam knew better. Conor was the only one who could keep them all safe. He was the Mighty Quinn and he’d find a way to keep the dragons from descending on the house.
“We skipped school today,” Liam said. “And a social worker came to visit.”
1
LIAM QUINN’S NOSE itched as he stepped into the musty attic, dust kicking up with every step. The place smelled of old wood and the floorboards creaked beneath his feet. A decrepit horsehair couch sat in the corner, and against the far wall he saw a tiny abandoned fireplace, probably used by a former household servant. The first three stories of the Charlestown home were in the midst of renovation, transformed into condos, like so many in this old neighborhood of Boston. But the attic held clues to a different past, when Irish immigrant families had replaced the wealthy shipbuilders who had founded the neighborhood.
Liam glanced into the shadows behind airy cobwebs. Somewhere in the dark corners he knew there were bats waiting to swoop down on him. Hell, he hated bats. “Could it be any colder in here?”
“The presidential suite at the Four Seasons didn’t happen to be on the right street,” Sean muttered.