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Wardon leaves me at the door to my bedchamber, the journey that had taken half the night on foot undone in seconds. Traveling that way must weaken him though, otherwise he would have done so instead of walking miles beneath the surface of the sea. His weakness is my advantage.
The Seelie king doesn’t appear weak, or even strained though. “I will send someone in to fetch you as soon as everything is ready.”
Thought tempted to give him one of my special kisses and make a break for it, I have to play his game. At least until Aiden and Nahini are safe and the dead of the Hunt back under my control. From the glint in his eye, the Seelie king plans to use my people as leverage up until the last instant.
“Leave the seer with me. As an engagement present.” I lift my chin as I issue the demand, daring him to renege on his promise.
A flash of emotion crosses his features. Rage, there and gone so quickly I would have missed it if I hadn’t been looking for it. A serpentine smile replaces the look and he waves a hand to allow Harmony to enter the room. “May she serve you as faithfully as she did me.”
I hear the warning for what it is, but choose to ignore it and shut the door in my intended’s face. “That could have gone better.”
“We’re both still alive.” Harmony says quietly. “That’s what’s important. Thank you.”
I don’t answer her directly, instead shucking my backpack down by the door and then sit on the bed to pull off my shoes. “Would he have killed you if I hadn’t claimed you?”
“Yes.” There is surety in her voice, shadows in her gray gaze.
If she hadn’t answered me directly, I might have killed her myself then and there. “And will you be loyal to me and the Unseelie court?”
A nod. “You won’t keep me in a cage.”
She’s right, I detest the idea of being held against my will. It’s why I’m always so careful when I hunt not to leave a trace behind. And I will never trap someone else that way, no matter how they might wrong me.
I may be a serial killer, but at least I have standards.
I meet her gaze head on. “I promise you, your life will be your own. You can serve in my court or go on your merry way. And if you betray me, I will kill you. Fair enough?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Agreed.”
I turn my attention to our current situation, wondering what to expect. “He mentioned a bloodoath. What is that?”
Harmony goes to the wardrobe and opens the doors, extracting a padded stool. She sets it down across from my position on the bed before answering. “A covenant, an unbreakable one. He’s going to call on his potion masters to mix your blood with his and add it to a vat of poison. After it has set, you will each drink half the poison and then swear your oath to one another. If either of you break your vows, the poison will be released and you will die in agony.”
I blow out a breath. “And let me guess, if one of us kills the other...?”
Harmony nods once. “The same fate.”
“Not big on trust, is he?” A ball of ice forms in my stomach at the realization I
may be forced to marry the gods damned prick.
“Wardon takes no chances. Even if you were already immortal, he would insist upon the oath.”
Restless, I rub my hands down the length of my denim clad thighs then stand up, and pace to the window. The night is dark, the ocean crashing mere feet away. Aiden is out there somewhere, I can feel his presence. Is he hurt? And what of Nahini? Has Wardon held her captive since the first night we arrived here? I hate to think that the evil bastard is getting one over on me, on my friends. “There must be another way.”
A knock sounds at the door. At my nod, Harmony stands, crosses the room and then lifts the latch. The door swings inward. One of the pixie servants bearing a tray three times her size drifts into the room. Judging from her careful balancing act, pixies must have strength like ants, able to lift things much heavier than their own body weights. “His royal highness thought you might be hungry.”
I sniff, wrinkling my nose in distaste. The aroma indicates something undeniably fishy, not exactly my go-to midnight snack. Undoubtedly the Master of the Waves was testing my vegetarian resolve. Asshat. There is a steaming pot though and unless it’s some sort of meat based broth, I’ll enjoy the liquid’s warmth.
I take the tray from her and set it down on the bed. “Thank you.”
Instead of leaving, the pixie waves her wand so the door slams behind her. The instant it’s closed, her shape...disintegrates.
There’s no other way to describe it, one minute the pixie is smiling at me and the next she’s nothing more than a pile of dust.
My lips part. “What?”
Harmony gasps and scuttles to my side. Apparently, the seer didn’t see this coming.
The dust doesn’t settle though, instead it swirls into a shape, a much larger shape. I catch a whiff of ozone and there is an electric tingle in my hands, my feet. The body expands, stretching and horrific angles until resolving into the distinctly male form of a naked fey.
He’s one of the oddest looking fey I’ve seen, which is saying something. His skin hue is that of a sunrise, yellow orange and he has no hair anywhere on his massive body. He bows, the movement elegant in spite of his nudity. “My queen. Forgive the deception, I had no other way to reach you. We must talk.”
I blink, once and then again. A shape shifter. The shape shifter that caused me so much heartache.
“You’re the one who pretended to be Aiden. You tricked me.” I stride forward, wrapping my fingers around his throat before he can respond. “How dare you show your retched face here?”
To his credit, he doesn’t struggle or beg for his life. “My most sincere apologies. They gave me little choice. Please, I can help you.”
“And where have I heard that before? There seems to be a rash of defectors in the Seelie court.” I want to kill something, desperately.
Harmony rests a hand on my arm. “He’s not a member of any court. He’s an entertainer.”
“What?” I look between the two of them, frowning.
“It’s true.” The shape changer swallows. I can feel a soft fluttering beneath my hands. Membranes or gill slits. I’m not just choking him, I’m suffocating him and can’t be bothered to care.
“I want to come with you,” he makes a gurgling noise. “To witness the journey of the Risen Queen.”
“What am I, the circus? Everyone wants to run away with me?”
“It’s for our histories.” His lidless eyes are sincere. “Songs and ballads that will echo through time.”
“You helped Wardon manipulate me,” I spit.
“I apologize for that. I heard rumors that you were different from before, more concerned with the well-being of the common fey. I had to judge for myself.”
“And if I hadn’t been? You were all set to marry me off to Wardon.”
“No. I only agreed to deceive you to gain access to you. I have a plan,” he wheezes. “One to get you everything you want.”
I let go of his throat. He stumbles forward, membranes fluttering like leaves in a gale.
“Tell me your plan and then I’ll decide whether or not you get to leave this room alive.”
****
Through the Man’s Eyes
Two hours ago...
AIDEN.
He hears her voice in his head, feels her concern. She must be close.
Panic wells up and it takes the last of his feeble reserves to fight the wolf, to keep it from bursting through him as it recognized its other half who travels in a separate skin.
The wolf had sensed her presence earlier and fought his way loose, desperate to get to her. Aiden had been too weak, didn’t possess the will to restrain the creature and it had erupted from him like lava from a volcano, wreaking havoc. There was no room for shame, no thought in his head other that he must find her.
He doesn’t know how many he’s maimed or killed, his memories are foggy and bathed in the thick red haze of bloodlust.
The trolls had fought back, fought for their lives. Reinforcements had thundered in. They’d beaten him, struck him with more of those damn darts. It hadn’t been enough though, he’d slain all within reach before the poison had dragged him down again.
He awoke as a man hours later, lying in a sticky puddle, his body battered and bruised, still shackled. The remains of Dav and Rok and the others have been hauled away, though their blood congeals on the cave floor. The wolf in him curls up in satisfaction. They’d hurt him, had threatened to hurt his mate.
Pain thrums through his body like a low voltage charge. Both his legs are broken as well as chained. He focused on his breaths as they shudder in and out of his lungs. Tries to sense her, but she is gone again. There is only the darkness. The sticky floor beneath his cheek. He closes his eyes and tries to sleep.
Time passes and he hears her voice in his mind. Aiden takes one breath and then another. He must keep his emotions reigned in, all the shame, the regret, the fear feed the wolf, makes him stronger, harder to control.
Aiden, I don’t know if you can hear this. I can’t hear you at all.
He tries. Every time he’s dragged back to consciousness he attempts to contact her, to tell her that he’s still near, that he hasn’t abandoned her, didn’t rejected her. Would never reject his proud mate.
Apparently, his efforts failed. Even her mental voice projects her worry. Worry she would never show directly to him or anyone else. The damn drugs interfere with their bond in a way time or distance cannot.
We have a plan to get you out. You and Nahini both as well as those we’ve been seeking.
The dead of the Hunt. Through the haze of pain, hope glimmers. She’d promised to find them and against all odds, she did. Without his help. He’s been more of a liability, getting himself captured. One more lost soul for her to rescue.
But his pride in her shines brighter than the loathing he has in himself. She kept her promise. Hope blooms in the arid soil of his heart.
Hold on. She thinks at him. We’re coming for you.
No. He tries to send back. The word echo’s around the inside of his skull but goes no farther. It’s though she stands on a distant hilltop and shouts into a megaphone. He can hear her, but has no way of responding.
The wolf rises up, eager to be with her again. Nose in the air, sniffing, trying to pick up her winter apple scent with his limited human senses. He has more success keeping the beast at bay. It asked a question before settling down again.
Who is helping her?
She’d said we. Said it more than once so he knows it wasn’t an error. Maybe Freda and the rest of the Hunt crossed into Underhill in search of her? Or perhaps the Fates?
A shudder of revulsion goes through him at the thought of Nic’s aunts helping to rescue him. Of owing the witches any sort of favor. But if they help Nic...
More time passes. He has no way to track it, can’t focus enough to count the seconds or the breaths. He just keeps taking them, enduring the pain of his shattered orbital bone, the missing eye, the broken fingers and toes. For once his instincts aligning with that of the wolf. He has one job now. Survive.
Eventually he hears their approach. Two creatures, not trolls, as the ground doesn’t shake beneath his feet, just the steady thud of boots on stone. He doesn’t lift his head or open his remaining eye. His nose tells him who approaches, with the scent of brine and sea air and magic as distinctive as fanfare.
Wardon, and one of his magicians.
Heat and light come with them. He senses the fire, and is surprised to find that it responds to his call. The dampening drugs must have worn off.
They stop, boots inches from his face, the scent of ocean depths and the blackest magic overpowering after nothing more than the reek of his own body coated in death.
“Well, this won’t do,” Wardon said, his tone dispassionate. “By the gods, I have never seen a bargaining chip in worse shape. What did those fool trolls do?”
Aiden doubted the king was truly talking to him, but answered anyway. “I can show you, if you desire.”
“Cheeky, just like her. They could have broken you, you know. If I’d let them have her. I thought about forcing the shifter to wear her shape and then handing him over to the trolls, but you would have known it wasn’t Nicneven, wouldn’t you, wolf?”
He would have, for even a flawless replication wouldn’t think to copy her unique winter apple scent, the one that he could follow through all nine worlds. Aiden doesn’t answer though. After years locked in a cage beside Brigit’s throne, he knows when to push a royal fey and when to hold his tongue.
The king turns to his companion. “Heal him.”
Hands colder than the stone floor grip his face. Aiden jerks, trying in vain to pull away. The hands are strong, though the fingers were slender.
“Do you wish to trade for a Healing?” The fey asks him in a baiting way.
Aiden’s eye fixes on the nut-brown features of the healer. “I’ve traded enough.”
The creature has long stringy hair that falls over its thin shoulders and its smile is almost as predatory as Wardon’s. “Not to me.”
“There will be no trade today,” Wardon cuts in. “Consider it your gift for my upcoming nuptials.”
Every cell in Aiden’s body tenses.
The Seelie king sees it and his mercurial eyes gleam in the low light. “Yes wolf, you know it’s true. I will have your lover as my bride. Fear not though, I’m giving you back to her. As a pet.”
The growl rumbles from his throat a second before the brilliant flash of light fills the cave. His body bows as fragments of bone knit together, swelling dispersed, bruises fade. The worst by far is the regeneration of his eye. Instead of the slow constant ache the pain is sharp, like an ice pick being driven through his brain. The healing is the most painful thing he’s endured since the trolls grabbed him.
The fey healer steps away and Aiden slumps back into the pile of filth on the stone floor. Every muscle twitches, his fingers spasm as ghosts of the intense agony slither across his nerve endings.
Wardon crouches to inspect the results. “Better, though still crusted with filth.” The king snaps his fingers and icy sea water crashes over Aiden’s head. His teeth chatter, but he doesn’t protest the rough treatment. He should just consider himself fortunate that the Master of the Waves didn’t douse him in sea water while he still had open wounds.
“You’ll have to do.” The king snaps again and the chains around his hands and feet disappear. Between the healing and the dousing, he’s too off balance to take advantage of the situation and lunge for the fey’s throat.
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you to wear.” Wardon smirks. “Although considering what she uses you for, it’s a wonder you own clothing at all. Or leave her bedchamber for that matter.”
Dripping wet, Aiden raises his new eye up to lock on Wardon’s. “I’m hers of my own free will. Better than any of your consorts can say.”
The king smirks down at him. “Once I marry her, what belongs to her will belong to me. Perhaps I’ll pass you around the troll barracks like a party favor. See if she wants what’s left of you after that.”
“Sire,” the healer approaches on Wardon’s left side. “We must go if we wish to be on time.”
Wardon doesn’t acknowledge the man, his gaze intent on Aiden. “Mark me wolf, you are irrelevant. To her, to me, to the world. It would be a mercy to put you down now like the rabid dog you are. Now come and witness the dawn of a new era in whatever skin suits.”
Aiden pushes to his feet, his glare on the king and shifts. He isn’t ashamed of his nakedness but it makes Nic uncomfortable and being the wolf gives him advantages of speed and strength over most of the fey and all trolls.
“Good.” Without warning, Wardon snaps a collar around Aiden’s neck.
His instinct is to struggle, he is no pet to be led about. But Nic is out there, waiting for him. So, he allows it and follows the king, all the while plotting the man’s death.
****
Now
I WATCH THEM LEAD AIDEN from his cell, Wardon and the long fingered fey who appears more tree than man. My hands clench into fists as I stand on the cliff that is to be our seaside meeting place as I observe the wolf. He’s walking, which I take as a good sign. He’s wearing some sort of collar, black and hardened like cool lava. I try to catch his eye but his gaze is focused down. Harmony’s words of prophesy haunt me.
Neither will be as you remember them.
Aiden has already endured so much in his life. The son of a fire deity, risen from the ashes of a golden life, cursed and yet somehow still able to give of himself. What would it take to alter him irrevocably?
And Nahini. I have yet to catch sight of her. How badly did they hurt her that such a hard warrior will never be the same?
Bard and Harmony are in place, standing with their backs to the rising sun. Though never one for prayers, I can’t help but send out a mental plea that I can trust my new allies not to betray me, that Aiden will have faith in me and not give the scheme away.
And most of all, that clever, power hungry Wardon is arrogant enough not to see the deception coming.
“The rest of my people?” Bard calls out, his voice a perfect echo of my own. It’s like looking in a mirror, even if the reflection moves independently of me. Not only is he wearing my skin, the shifter has my squared-shoulder, chin-up stance, my look of defiance. He wears the same set of jeans and hoodie that I’d had on earlier, claiming my scent still clinging to the fabric. He insists that will help him own his role. He even picked up my backpack on his way out of the door.
I, in contrast, feel nothing like myself. Beneath the large gray cowl that hides my face, I curl a finger around one of the dyed locks. It’s a dark brown, almost mahogany, provided by the wardrobe. Between the color and the shapeless granite colored sack that passes for a religious robe worn by Wardon’s temple sworn witnesses, even the aunts wouldn’t recognize me.
“They’re nearby.” Wardon stops a foot away from Bard and takes his—my—hand. “First, a question. You are, Nicneven, future Queen of the Unseelie Court and heir to the Shadow Throne?”
I see him study my face—Bard’s face. He’s looking for a trick, some sort of double cross. I, the human girl, can tell a lie, but most any fey capable of taking on my form could not.
“I am.” Bard says, voice clear and unwavering.
He can do it because he has taken on my identity, has essentially become me, at least until the part is played out and he moves on to his next identity. According to Bard, even though many know what he and other entertainers can do, they didn’t know the why or how of it. A trick of the trade. One he had let us in on.
A low growl rumbles from Aiden, but it cuts off in a high-pitched yelp of pain. Bard’s gaze shifts to the wolf. “What’s wrong with him?”
“His new collar appears to be chafing.” Wardon puts a hand on the wolf’s head. Aiden ducks away but not before I see the bright red blood that streaks the king’s fingers.
Did the collar do that? I try again to send a mental message to Aiden. He doesn’t so much as twitch.
I see Bard’s hands clench into fists, an exact replica of my own beneath the long sleeves of the stolen robe. “Take it off him.”
“And have him kill us all? I think not. For you see, my lovely, I know exactly who you’ve been bedding all these years. And there are those who would pay handsomely for him.”
As though she’d been waiting for a cue, The Hag of the Ironwood opens a portal by his side and steps out as though stepping through a doorway.
I hear Aden’s warning growl, but it is immediately cut off in another yelp of pain. As though the collar isn’t just restraining him, but disciplining him somehow.
The giantess is once again pared down to a more standard size, though power radiates from her. She turns to Wardon with a raised eyebrow. “I specifically said he was not to be harmed.”
“Apologies,” Wardon’s tone holds no regret. “But we had to take precautions. He’s a wanted criminal in Asgard, after all. How could a few fey cope with that sort of power?”
The red-haired giantess stares down at the Seelie king like he’s something she scraped off the bottom of her boots.
“What’s she doing here?” Bard asks. “You promised to turn Aiden and the others over to me.”
“And I will, my sweet. Just as soon as you keep your end of the bargain and marry me.”
Aiden lunges, murder in his leaf green eyes. But then collapses three feet from where he started.
Right in front of me.
I want to bend down, to place a hand on his neck, to rip that gods damned collar off, but I can’t. I signed on for the ruse and I need to see it through.
“The lovely giantess here has agreed to keep an eye on your pet until after you pass the gauntlet. After you become my wife.”
I don’t react outwardly, and neither does Bard. It is Harmony who speaks up.
“That is a mistake, my king. The giantess has no intention of returning the son of the flame.”
Wardon raises a cynical eyebrow as he turns on Angrboda. “I know. But she will swear a blood oath to me, as will my betrothed. I believe the terms of the oath are universal, for anything living can also die.”
“I will do no such thing.” Angrboda chin lifts, her posture arrogant. “We had a deal. The wolf for your magic. I have upheld my end.”
“That does present something of a conundrum.” Wardon circles the spot where Angrboda stands. The giantess doesn’t flinch, but turns her head to track the king’s movements. Suddenly water sprays upward from the cliff below us like a geyser erupting. It follows the circle Wardon made around the giantess, trapping her inside. I see her hands come up, her fists pound on the wet prison and a look of pure astonishment crosses her face when she doesn’t break free.
He used her own magic against her. “Nicneven, if you will be so kind.”
Oh no. I stare at Bard, who’s gone blank faced. Oh shit.
“I beg your pardon?” The mimic raises a sardonic eyebrow. Good cover, though it won’t help him in the long run.
“This creature wants to take my gift to you. Give her your own special kiss and send a message to all in Underhill that you are not to be crossed.”
The performer’s eyes—my eyes—round. No matter how much he looks like me, how much he believes he has become me, Bard is not the Unseelie queen of the Shadow Throne. He does not possess the Goodnight Kiss. And as soon as Wardon realizes it, he will retaliate.
“I have no quarrel with the giantess,” Bard tries. “What good will come from her death?”
“She ruined your consort’s family. She wishes to take him away. That should be reason enough.” Wardon smirks, knowing he holds the winning hand. “But if not, here’s one more. Either the giantess dies here and now, or I will gift her the wolf and slaughter all your other companions before your very eyes.”
A test. He’s even more paranoid than I am. In the distance the waves start to churn. Then swirl, creating a whirlpool in the middle of the sea. The ocean splits, revealing a trench beneath and inside the trench are my missing souls.
And Nahini.
She coughs and chokes, trying to dispel water from her lungs. How is she even still alive?
All eyes are on me, the fake me. I risk a step forward, brushing my toe against Aiden’s side. He doesn’t stir.
“So, what will it be, Nicneven?” the Seelie king asks. “A small demonstration of your greatest power? Or should I trap your lost souls back in their watery prison until the seas dry up?”
Bard sends me a fleeting look. Anyone other than Harmony would believe he’s staring at Aiden. I have no way to instruct him, there is no path I can set him on which will bring us all out safely on the other side.
We are trapped.
