| |
“THESE BRACES ARE KILLING me,” Kyria said to Quin as they entered their private chamber. She couldn’t wait to remove the steel contraptions and soak her abused legs in the pool. “Jade!” she called, dismayed when she didn’t answer. Where had she gone? Had something happened to her? She made a mental note to ask Alexi as soon as she saw him.
She didn’t refuse Quin when he offered her his elbow, helping her to their bed. When he hiked up her skirt and slid off the braces, the pain increased tenfold. She reached for her legs, alarmed when light shot out of her palms, bathing her in a soft green glow. She quickly glanced around, relieved when she saw she and Quin were alone.
“Brilliant!” he breathed, then broke into a wide grin and sat beside her.
Feeling uncomfortable in her own skin, she scooted over when their knees touched. Why was he smiling? Did this mean he wasn’t afraid of her magic?
“How did you do that?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She pulled back her hands, amazed to see the cuts and bruises had diminished, along with the pain.
“Did you know that you had magical powers?” He looked toward the wardrobe, and she knew he was thinking of the ceiling vines.
Her heart leapt into her throat. She’d been both dreading and anticipating this moment. Her magic frightened her, and she needed to share this burden with someone, but would her confession scare him away? “Tell me you love me,” she blurted, tentatively reaching for his hand, relief flooding her when he didn’t pull away.
He curled his fingers around hers, his big amber eyes shining. “You know I do.”
Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “Say it,” she pleaded, needing to hear it now more than ever.
He tenderly stroked her cheek. “Sprite, I love you.”
Leaning into him, she relished his warmth. He was her personal sun, her lover. Her protector. She took his hand and moved it to her heart. “And tell me you believe that despite my magic, my heart hasn’t changed.”
“I know it hasn’t.”
She desperately searched his gaze, relieved when she saw no judgement. “I had no idea about the magic. It suddenly sprang up when Ravena revealed my Fae.”
“You mentioned earlier Ravena would kill you if she found out about your magic. Who told you that?”
“You’re going to think I’ve gone mad, but I’ve been visited by specters.”
“Ghosts?”
“Yes. Dead children with slit throats. They told me to hide my magic.” Again she tried to pull away, but he refused to let her go. “Are you afraid of me now?”
He laughed. “Why would I fear you?”
“Because mages are evil.”
His expression was so intense, she fought the urge to look away. “How many mages have you known?”
“Just Demendia and Ravena,” she said, plus Euclid, but she didn’t think he counted.
He stroked her palm with the pad of his thumb. “What if I told you my grandmother is a mage?”
“She is?”
“Yes, though she keeps her powers secret for fear that Demendia will have her killed.”
She believed him. Her parents told her witches had gone into hiding when Demendia became the king’s mage. They’d never spoken of the witch who’d concealed her Fae, just that she’d been hard to find.
“And she isn’t evil?” She felt terrible for assuming the worst of his grandmother, but she knew so little of mages.
“No.” He laughed. “She is a good woman, a green witch.”
She looked at her fingertips, remembering the green magic that had flowed from them. Was she a green witch, too?
“Her magic is green in color,” he explained. “She, too, receives visits from the dead. She can heal the sick and speak to animals. She can also grow food, which is why our farm always has the best crops.” He patted his gut. “After living in Periculi, let me tell you, I sure do miss Nona’s food.”
“My magic is green.” She held up a finger, and a thin wisp of green smoke trailed out like the lit end of a pipe.
“You are a green witch, too, which explains the flower hanging from the ceiling.”
She looked up. That trail of green smoke had unleashed a white, blossoming flower above their heads, hanging from a long green stem that resembled a rope. Damn. She’d have to stop doing that.
He jumped on the bed and snatched it from the ceiling with a good tug, raining more plaster down on their heads and putting a gaping hole in the mural, right where a Fae child’s head used to be. Hopefully, nobody would notice.
So she grew plants and spoke to the dead? The plant part was amazing. If she could bring her gift back to Periculi, the defenders would never go hungry again. Speaking to the dead she could do without. “I don’t understand why Ravena or Demendia would think green witches are threats.”
After he sat back beside her, he turned over her hand and drew a circle in her palm. “Nona told me it’s because all witches have the potential to become white witches.”
“What are they?”
“The most powerful. Our goddess Kyan was a white witch,” he said. “They can raze armies.”
She gazed at her fingers, willing white smoke to come out, but all that flowed were ten trails of green. Closing her hands, she braced for more flowers on the ceiling. “If I had such power, I could stop King Milas.”
Quin nodded. “And Talon. Your grandfather is evil. So is Ravena.”
She cringed. “I know.”
He jumped up and ripped down flowery vines as they sprouted. “Now we have even more of a reason to get you off this island.”
After arranging the flowers in a bouquet, he sat back down and handed them to her.
She inhaled their fragrance. Something about their sweet scent calmed her. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Oh, Quin, I’m so glad you’re here with me.”
“Me, too. I always knew you were a goddess.” He kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering. “Now I have proof.”
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she tossed the flowers to the floor and melted into him. When he gently parted her lips and thrust his tongue in her mouth, she moaned her delight, warmth flooding between her legs, her pussy swelling with need. They fell on the bed in a tangle of limbs, tearing off each other’s clothes. The thick hairs on his chest matched the rest of him, kissed by the sun with a healthy tan and beautiful golden highlights. A shiver coursed through her at the fire in his eyes. He looked ready to ravage her, and she badly wanted to be ravaged. Her attention was drawn to the tip of his long, thick cock, which glistened with moisture.
Just as he climbed between her legs, his erection probing her slick entrance, the door flew open and a bevy of servants marched inside, carrying swaths of silk, jewels, and an atrocious, huge white wig.
Kyria sat up with a snarl, pulling a pillow to her chest. “What is this?” She cursed herself for not bolting the door.
One of the servants, a tall, thin girl with pink skin, freckles, and pointy ears, bowed to her. “We’re here to dress you, my lady.”
“Don’t you people knock?” Quin growled, pulling a blanket around them.
The girl didn’t even spare Quin a glance. “You are needed at court,” she said to Kyria. “The king insists.”
She fell back against the bed, cursing at the ceiling.
Quin snatched his clothes off the edge of the bed. “I’m coming, too.”
The servant gave him a condescending look. “Humans aren’t allowed at court.”
“I don’t give a damn,” he said with a snarl. “I’m coming.”
Marcello appeared from behind the crush of servants, looking as perfectly groomed as ever. His features could’ve been carved from stone, from that dimple in his chin to his strong jaw and high cheekbones. He stood with a quiet dignity, his hands behind his back. “Trust me. You don’t want him there. He will be too much of a temptation.” He looked Quin over with a smirk. “They won’t be able to restrain themselves.”
She turned to Quin, her heart deflating like it had been stuck with a piercing blade. “You need to stay.”
His eyes narrowed, the heat of lust replaced with rage. “And you need protection.”
“Shall I send for your brother?” Marcello asked.
Worrying her lip, she looked at Quin. “Yes, please.”
Quin jerked his tunic over his head with rough movements, tearing a seam. “Tell him he also owes me a sword.”
Marcello flashed a subtle grin. “Of course.” He bowed to Kyria. “I’ll leave, so you can have your privacy.”
“Privacy?” She snorted, eyeing the servants with derision. “What’s that?”
Quin pulled on his breeches, his round muscular butt exposed to the servants. They eyed him with appreciation, then hung their heads when she cleared her throat. He went over to the buffet against the wall and poured himself a tall goblet of wine. She felt bad for him, trapped inside this palace, treated like a slave because of his human blood.
When a servant held out a hideous peach dress with enough frills to rival one of Melandris’s gawdy curtains, she shuddered. “Tell me which tailor loathes Fae women so much that he’d design such a monstrosity? It had to have been a man.” She laughed. “No woman would do this to another woman.”
The servant, a short dark-skinned girl with Fae ears so tall and pointy, they looked like daggers, frowned. “But it’s the latest high fashion.”
Kyria rolled her eyes. “It’s a circus tent.”
“It’s very expensive,” the tall, freckled servant added.
“Which brings me back to my original question,” she said. “Which tailor loathes Fae women?”
“You should feel honored that you get to attend court,” the freckled girl said, nose in the air. “It’s generally reserved for first-bloods.”
She eyed the girl. “What are you? Second- or third-blood?”
She lowered her eyes to the floor. “Fourth-blood, my lady.”
When the other servants snickered, Kyria gave them all harsh looks. “What is your name?” she asked the girl.
She looked like a cornered mouse. “My name’s not important.”
“Of course it is.”
“It’s Simone,” the girl answered.
“And this caste system doesn’t bother you, Simone?”
Her gaze darted to the other servants before she hung her head again. “It’s how it’s always been.”
When another servant stepped forward, her face not even visible because of the tall white wig in her hands obscuring her, Kyria shooed her back, realizing the futility of her efforts. “I’m not wearing that hideous thing.”
“Oh, but you must.” Simone’s bottom lip trembled. “The king will be angry with me if you don’t. He chose this wardrobe especially for you.”
Rage filled her. Simone probably would be punished if she refused to go. That was exactly how Kyria’s former head priestess, Melandris, treated her servants whenever Kyria tried to rebel. Her husband manipulated her by punishing the slave Lea for her mistakes. Kyria realized this was a common tactic among tyrants. She glared at the wig. “It looks like someone threw a bag of flour on a beehive.”
Simone vehemently shook her head. “I assure you there are no bees inside your costume.”
Kyria hugged the pillow. “No, just a woman who’s being forced to play puppet against her will.”
Quin leaned against the buffet, crossing his arms. “Then don’t go, Kyria.”
How tempting it would be to dismiss the servants and finish what she’d started with Quin. She heaved a disappointed sigh. “I must find out when Grandfather is sending weapons to the defenders.” His look of sadness was nearly enough to break her heart. “I won’t stay long, my love,” she said, hoping she could keep her promise.
“I’ll be waiting impatiently.”
She turned to Simone. “I will play his game, but he must play mine.”
* * *
THERON SHOT UP FROM his furs to the sounds of men shouting. He reached for his shield and spear, then raced to the window, cursing when he saw a blaze shooting so high in the sky, it obliterated the stars.
After hastily throwing on his boots and coat, he ran outside, smack into the middle of pure mayhem.
“The grain shed is on fire!” a soldier hollered, running past him with a bucket of water and sloshing most of it on his shoes.
He raced to the fire, getting so close to the heat, his skin felt aflame and his balls felt like they were melting. Grabbing a bucket from a runner, he threw it on the fire, though it was about as futile as trying to lance a dragon with a toothpick. But he tossed buckets on the flames in hopes that even a portion of the grain could be spared. Titus raced from the inferno, four heavy sacks across his broad shoulders. Three other men followed, each carrying two sacks, before the entire structure fell down, smoke hitting him so hard, he had to stumble away, flinging sparks from his clothing.
They worked well into the night, knowing most of their stores were lost but still feverishly battling to stop the inferno from spreading to other buildings. By the time the fire had died to smoke and ash, it was dawn and almost sixty sacks of grain had been destroyed.
Theron learned Titus and his men had made three trips altogether, leaving them with thirty sacks. With two-thirds of it burned, how would they survive the impending war? They were already forced to ration.
With a heavy heart, he trudged to the center of the square, where the women treated burns and handed out bowls of porridge. Theron waved a healer away and went straight for a bucket of water, drinking his fill, though it did little to soothe his burned throat. He spotted Titus in front of the hut they’d once shared before moving into the general’s quarters. A light snow had fallen on his shorn, ebony hair. Palming a tin cup of coffee, he hunched over while a girl no older than ten treated burns on his back.
Still hot from exertion and flame, Theron collapsed beside Titus in the snow, the cold on his bottom a welcome relief. Theron peered around the girl to see Titus’s burns and then wished he hadn’t. A large swath cut diagonally across his old scars from the slaver’s whip, exposing raw pink skin under ebony flesh. The girl winced and apologized while removing charred flakes. Titus didn’t even flinch.
“How did this happen?” Theron asked.
Titus took a long drink of black coffee and wiped his mouth. “I don’t know.”
“Did anyone see anything?”
“No.” Titus gritted his teeth when the girl poured medicine on his wound.
Theron recognized the smell of the antiseptic. Derived from dragon venom, it didn’t heal, but it burned away infection.
When she was finished, he thanked her. She acknowledged him with a nod and then picked up her bag of herbals and went to a group of wounded defenders across the square.
Titus leaned into Theron and said in a heated whisper, “I smelled Vomva powder inside the shed.”
Theron felt dread. Vomva powder was used for bomb making, which meant this fire was no accident. “Who would do this? One of the king’s spies?”
Titus shook his head. “How would they get in?”
“I’m not sure.” Theron rubbed his new beard growth. After two weeks of refusing the blade, it had grown just long enough to stop itching. He didn’t have time to shave, and since his unit was now in charge, he thought it would help their standing if he looked older. Several more seasoned defenders had already started to question Titus’s rule, since his unit had been reduced to two men. This fire would not help Titus’s claim.
“This was an inside job.”
Theron looked at Titus, who was staring at a cluster of older warriors huddled together, casting surreptitious glances in their direction. “You’re not suggesting a defender did this?”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Titus said.
How quickly the tide could turn. A few weeks ago the camp had almost unanimously voted for Titus as their new general. They would blame him for this fire and try to rally a vote of no confidence. Then what? Titus would not step down without a fight, and Theron wouldn’t let him fight this battle alone. Theron suspected the fire had been set by one of the warriors eyeing Titus’s position. A leader who would jeopardize the health and safety of his people for personal gain was no leader at all, and Theron looked forward to rooting out the bastard. He had two suspects, Pavo and Olaf, brothers with bushy red beards and distended guts from years of drinking too much wine. Despite their appearances, they were anything but soft. They were brave defenders, having killed almost as many dragons as Titus. It was no secret Pavo wanted Titus’s job, and he held bitterness in his heart since losing the position to Titus. The question was, how far would he go to try to steal it?
“These traitors can do more than destroy our food,” he whispered, then repressed a shudder, thinking of what other havoc they might cause.
“I know,” Titus grumbled, “which is why we must root them out before they strike again.”
Theron’s gaze swept the camp. Carefully and deliberately, he examined each one of the defenders’ faces before settling on the two brothers. They blatantly stared back. Unlike most of the men, neither of them had burned furs or injuries from the fire, which meant they were either lucky, cowards, or they’d wanted the shed to burn. If he found out they had set the fire, he would ensure they paid with their lives.
* * *
KYRIA STARED AT HER reflection in the gilded mirror, hardly believing the creature staring back at her. Her grandfather had sent servants to ready her for court, and despite her protests, she had been forced to wear ridiculous face paints and a tall wig. She looked like a circus performer. The only benefit of her costume was that the metal hoops in her skirt helped to balance her. She took every opportunity to sneak off to a corner of the hall, so she could lean against her hoops and get a reprieve from the braces.
Slouching in the darkest corner she could find, she mused at how her frilly dress blended with the drapes and her face and hair matched the pearlescent wallpaper. She didn’t understand the purpose of holding court, when the same strange Fae from before were there. Her brother had said the first-bloods had been holding court every night for the past two thousand years. How boring. Didn’t they grow tired of staring at each other’s ugly faces?
Alexi, she projected to her brother, whom she saw sneak behind a curtain with one of the serving girls. I’m tired of this. Escort me back to my chamber.
She’d done her part and made an appearance at Grandfather’s dull party. Now she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with Quin and pretend she was back at Periculi with her defenders.
She waited, but he didn’t answer. She eyed the curtain with annoyance. Alexi’s boots were facing the wall, and the serving girl’s stockinged toes poked through the curtain midair. They grunted like animals. She blew a wayward curl out of her eyes, distressed by the plume of powder that fanned around her like a swarm of flies. Never, ever, again would she agree to wearing this ridiculous getup.
Though a band played, nobody danced, not in the conventional sense. They waltzed around like birds flitting from nest to nest, saying horrible things about one another while flashing false smiles. And the smell! At first she thought it was spoiled meat, but it didn’t take long for her to realize the stench was coming from the Fae. No amount of their noxious, cloying perfume could mask the rot under their clothes. Jade had said the Fae had a superior sense of smell. Couldn’t they smell themselves? Didn’t they ever bathe? She was lucky that most of them ignored her. She garnered a few sneers from some of the clowns, whispering behind their hands like buzzing bees.
“Where are your human pets?”
Her gaze swung to the Fae creature that had snuck up beside her, a tall woman with impossibly long lashes stuck together with clumps of black paint, plump, purple lips, and teeth and nails that had to have been filed into points.
“My what?” she asked the woman indignantly.
She licked her fangs with a tongue that looked like a bloated, gray fish. “That tasty looking warrior and the delicious redhead.”
She backed away when the stench of the woman’s stale, sulfuric breath hit her. “I-I didn’t think humans were allowed at court.”
She flashed a fanged smile. “They’re not.”
“Then why would you ask about them?” She didn’t bother to hide her annoyance. She didn’t like this woman. Her smile was a thing of nightmares, and if she stared too long into her black as coal eyes, she might fall into them and never find her way out.
“I was just curious.” The woman pouted, her lip hanging so low, Kyria could see her white gums. Didn’t she have access to life water?
Kyria jerked when someone latched onto her arm. She was about ready to strike when she looked into her twin’s smiling eyes. He reeked of the servant’s jasmine perfume.
Embarrassingly, her nipples hardened at the alluring smell. She looked over at the servant, who was adjusting her dress, exposing a generous cleavage, her cheeks flushed from fucking. She had long, ebony hair and pale skin. What a beauty. Kyria would love to sink her fingers into her honey pot. She shook her head at the thought of bedding a girl her brother had just fucked behind a curtain. What had come over her?
Alexi. She gave him the once-over. His shirt was rumpled, and his neck was covered in red bite marks. Your pants are unbuttoned.
He reached for his groin, blatantly buttoning them in front of everyone. The fanged Fae gave him an appreciative look.
Kyria opened the floral fan Simone had given her and waved it energetically at her hot chest, suddenly realizing its use.
“Kyria, I see you’ve met Grandfather’s cousin, Genevieve,” Alexi said and bowed to the creature.
Genevieve latched onto Kyria with a gloved hand. Her fingers felt bony even through the fabric. Silver nails poked through the tips of her gloves like long knitting needles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear.”
She looked at their joined hands in horror before jerking away. “They are not my pets,” she said, remembering what the Fae had said when she’d first approached her. “I consider them my equals.”
She had the nerve to laugh aloud.
Kyria fought the urge to gouge Genevieve’s eyes out, but then she saw Talon coming her way. Genevieve skipped away like a child at play.
“Ah, Granddaughter, there you are,” the king said with a broad grin. “I was beginning to worry you weren’t coming.”
She had been at court for over an hour, and he hadn’t noticed her? “I’ve been here for quite some time.”
He glanced at her shoes poking out from beneath her gown. “I heard my sister has fashioned you braces for walking.”
She gave him a pointed stare. “She has.”
“Good, good.” Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall, and for the first time he appeared to relax, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She wondered if Ravena had told him she had no magic. “They will hopefully be only temporary, until Alexi and the defenders can kill Demendia.” His eyes lit up with what appeared to be pride when he looked at Alexi.
“And when will that be, Grandfather?” she asked, so she could prepare to leave with them.
“As soon as my spies in Delfi alert me that Milas is on the move.”
Her stomach flipped at the thought. Milas had a huge army. The defenders were tough, but they wouldn’t be able to hold them off for long. “Shouldn’t they leave now, so they can train the soldiers how to use the new weaponry?”
It was clear he was annoyed by her question. “Training is not needed.”
“Oh? I thought these weapons were advanced.” Would her defenders have enough time to learn how to use them?
He gave her a knowing look. “They are, but the timing must be just right.”
Alarm bells went off in her head. The memory of visiting her aunt in her prison cell, saying something similar, popped into her mind. So perfect, but so deadly, as long as the timing is just right.
She got the feeling her defenders would have to pay a steep price for accepting these weapons.
* * *
QUIN FRANTICALLY SEARCHED Kyria’s chamber for any sort of weapon. He ended up making do with the long curtain rod above the balcony door. Though it was solid and heavy, it had little else to recommend it, but it would have to do, for he suspected Alexi wasn’t bringing him that sword.
There was a loud knock on the door. That had to be Alexi. Gripping the rod, he stomped over and threw it open. “It’s about damn ti—” He swallowed his words, staring at a creature that had to have been ripped from a nightmare. She was a tall thing with concave cheeks and big, pursed lips smeared with bright purple lipstick. Her face was painted white, like a clown, and there were splotches of red on her cheeks and eyelids. She wore a hideous, tall silver wig. More startling than her appearance was her breath, which reminded him of a rotting dragon carcass. “You’re not Alexi.”
“No, I’m not.” She pushed him aside with amazing strength and strode into the chamber.
He fell against the door with a grunt, rubbing his sore shoulder. “Kyria’s not here.”
Snapping open a fan, she looked over the rim through long lashes caked with black clumps. “I know she’s at court.”
“Who are you?”
“Oh, forgive my manners.” She giggled behind her fan. “I’m Genevieve, a cousin to the king. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
When she held out a gloved hand, Quin stared at it. Sharp, curved, claw-like nails painted silver poked out the holes in the tips of her gloves.
After a long pause, she pulled back her hand with a snarl. “Where is the other human?” Snapping the fan shut, she stuck out a gray tongue and licked her plump lips. “The delicious little redhead.”
“She’s not here.” He had no idea where she was, but he wished someone else was here to deal with this creature. He was suddenly nauseated by her breath, which hung in the air like a thick fog.
“Oh. That’s right.” She flashed a fanged grin. “She went to visit her parents. Too bad they’ve been drinking life water.”
“Why is that?”
“It tainted their blood.” Her bottom lip looked like a stuffed, purple sausage when she pouted. She quickly crossed the distance between them. “Mm,” she said, trailing a talon down his chest. “You smell delicious.”
Swatting her hand away, he backed up, gripping the curtain rod. “Why are you here?”
“Do I need a reason?” she cooed, smoothing a hand down her flat chest.
“Yes,” he said curtly, his answer razor sharp.
“I’ve heard about your beautiful body.” Taking a step toward him, she licked her lips again, her gray tongue cracked and dry like rotting flesh. “I had to see for myself.”
He went to the door, holding it open. “You need to leave.”
She opened her fan again, batting her thick lashes in a failed effort to be seductive. “But I just got here.”
“Go,” he said forcefully, the word hurling through the air like a spear striking its target.
She raked her fan down the side of his neck. “Don’t make me beg,” she teased.
He’d had enough. He tried to shove her into the hall and was shocked when she didn’t budge. It was like trying to move a mountain.
“So rude.” She placed a clawed hand on his chest and pushed, slamming him against the narrow edge of the door. The curtain rod fell from his hand when he slid to the floor, dizzy with pain.
Looming over him, she snarled like a rabid dog. “I could have my way with you, and you’d be powerless to stop me, but I will wait. I prefer my humans more eager.”
He quickly rolled aside when she rested a heeled boot dangerously close to his groin.
“A few more days and you will be begging me to drain the seed from your cock.” Her skin crackled like old leather when she smiled. “I will drain your seed and more, and it will be glorious.”
“No,” he whimpered, hating the power she had over him.
“Yes, my darling.” Her eyes practically rolled into the back of her skull. “Yesss.”
She left in a swish of skirts, her rancid smell trailing in her wake. After kicking the door shut, he stumbled to his feet. He didn’t care what it took. They had to get the fuck off this island.