Chapter Ten

A garbled cheer went up as Isaiah and I passed between two enormous anatomically correct male statues that were so well endowed they would have made my mom blush. “Are they over compensating, or what?”

Isaiah laughed as we continued forward onto a large grassy clearing. “The unseelie always go overboard.”

“Ha. The fae say the same thing about demons.”

“Everything is overboard for those bland and boring creatures.”

We stopped and glanced around. The field was surrounded by a variety of goblins who sat on stools, wooden boxes and small chairs, some of the smaller goblins in front carrying multicolored flags they waved around enthusiastically. I wondered if these were children, although that idea was quickly forgotten when a chubby female elbowed a dog-faced male on the way to purchase a drink from a vendor. A bloody fight ensued, mostly ignored by the others in the stands. The girl ended up kicking the guy’s ass without spilling her drink and after a victorious bow, sitting back in her seat. The goblins in her immediate vicinity pounded her shoulders and the top of her head with their fists. It must’ve hurt but she grinned through the pain, opening her wide mouth and downing her drink in one go. She held her empty cup out to the goblin she’d battled. The poor guy was still on the ground nursing a nasty head wound. He snarled, but took the cup and bought her another drink, delivering it with head bowed in submission.

Most of the goblins seemed to have pinkish skin, like salmon, and light green hair, but there were also a few with the same coloring as Khent, although they were rare. Maybe it was a delineation of the royal bloodline, or the amount of power they wielded. Interspersed among the goblins were several other races, some creatures looking more plant than animal, others reminding me of dolphins or bulls or even porcupines. I loved the variety, even though some of them were as scary looking as a slaugh.

Lines of excited attendees were forming near goblins who wore multi colored vests and stood on crates decorated with bright yellow flags. “What’s going on there?” I asked Isaiah.

“They’re taking bets.”

“On us?” He nodded. “Look, this is stupid. You must have a way of getting us out of here. You’re the archdemon’s kid!”

Isaiah shrugged. “Wouldn’t I have already left if it were possible?” He pointed at the closest bookie. “The goblins love a good wager. If you win the king some money, he’ll probably let you go.”

I glanced in the direction of the royal box, built like it belonged in some medieval jousting tournaments. The king was on his throne, eyeing us, pointing from one to the other. He fished out a small bag that looked heavy, handing it to his advisor. His buddy nodded, then tossed the bag to a guard, delivering instructions and pointing to one of the bookies.

“But what do we have to do?”

“Looks like we’re about to find out.” Isaiah replied, looking annoyingly confident. Ugh. Sometimes I hated this guy.

The king stood and so did everyone else. I was surprised that his voice carried so well for such a little guy. The king’s advisor translated after each sentence for our benefit. “Welcome to the Games of Illusion and Folly.” Everyone cheered and he waved to his subjects, then swiveled in our direction. “My people love a good show, so I expect you to give them their monies worth.”

“Do you hear me, Unc?” I was starting to get worried and figured it couldn’t hurt to stay open to each other mentally. When I connected to someone with my mind, it formed a private loop.

“Perfectly well.” We locked gazes. “Whatever this is, I will not leave your side.” A crease formed between his brows. “Afterward, we will discuss you continuing to call me Unc. I’m certain the guards can provide me with a pair of tweezers.”

I was relieved beyond words to know Isaiah had my back, not that I’d ever really doubted it before the kidnapping. Isaiah could have killed me a thousand times in the past thirteen years. He was arrogant, exceedingly demanding, and even cruel at times. But he was an amazing trainer, generous with his time and his usually excellent advice. He’d always been honest with me. I’d trusted him. If pressed, I’d even admit to liking him. He’d made me laugh during some of my lowest moments and taught me more about power and its use and misuse than any other supernatural I’d worked with, including my mom and dad.

That’s why this whole kidnapping thing just didn’t make sense. But what other explanation could there be?

Isaiah stood beside me in his true form, his stance relaxed to the point of being disrespectful, his usual demeanor when he was confronting a being he considered his equal. He’d told me once that if you stood in battle readiness position, you could probably count on someone to step up to do battle. Putting on a relaxed air made your enemy relax and underestimate you, a huge mistake on their part, particularly where Isaiah was concerned.

I heard some females giggling. They were totally ignoring me and pointing toward my companion with wide eyes and large smiles. When Isaiah turned in their direction and smiled back, they blushed and covered their large mouths, huddling together to giggle again. According to Brina and Linn and even my mom, Isaiah in true form was as attractive as any fae, albeit a little spookier. Maybe the bad boy thing produced another kind of magnetism.

Today he was dressed in dark jeans and a tee shirt, the same as me. He hadn’t tied his dark hair back, but instead allowed it to move in the breeze, some of it falling into his face and occasionally hiding his orange-tinted eyes. His mouth had relaxed into a kind of permanent smirk, probably annoying the king and intriguing those girls.

The King was speaking again. “I imagine you are confused about what is to take place, but I can only tell you that what is to take place is entirely up to you. If you please us, your status will improve and you will be closer to going home. If not, it will lower and your chances to leave will lower as well. If you are unfortunately killed because of your folly, I suppose many born of other realms will weep.”

Nice. “You’ll start a war,” I shouted out.

“Such arrogance. We do not intend for you to die. Use your mind to see the truth and you will not be in danger. All will be clear, trust me.” The king raised his hands and the entire mob sat down again. “Move to the center of the arena, please.” I shrugged and started walking. The field was in good shape, although the grass was coarse and the long blades felt sharp enough to cut your skin if you fell the wrong way. Good thing I wasn’t planning on rolling around on the ground. Isaiah and I stopped at the same time, a blurry disturbance in the air causing us to hesitate.

Isaiah frowned at me. “After you.”

“Age before—”

He shoved me hard and I stumbled forward. A familiar rush of magic forced me to my knees, my hands hitting the ground hard enough to make a loud whack. When you grow up using magic, its loss is painful. Having it returned so quickly was a real shocker, but I recovered almost instantly, standing in a flash.

The first thing I did was attempt to take the lines to go home, only I was still blocked from leaving. The king grumbled another phrase and the translator did his job. “You will not be allowed to leave until you prove you are worthy and His Highness permits it.”

I glanced at Isaiah who’d stepped gracefully through the blur without sprawling. Well, hey, no one had pushed him. “This shouldn’t be too difficult,” he said.

“You’ve gotta stop shoving me!” I snarled, but he didn’t look apologetic in the least.

Instead, his gaze was intensely focused. I knew that look well. Something was up. “I do what is necessary. I strongly advise you to never forget that fact.”

“Necessary for wh—”

“We begin,” roared the king.

And I was suddenly alone in another clearing—the clearing where Garrett and my mom had defeated Eleanor and Antoine, months before I was born. Solo Island. How did Khent know about Solo Island?

I looked around, sending to Isaiah when I didn’t see him, “You with me?” No answer. I tried again and again, but it was obvious they’d split us up. Great. Just freakin’ great.

“What are you doing here?” a woman asked angrily.

The voice had me spinning in record time. My mom was here, holding her dagger, glowering at me. “Mom!” Had she come to rescue me?

“Trying your tricks again?” she snapped.

I took a step back. “Mom?”

“I was hoping I’d get another chance at you.” She waved the dagger around as if she meant to use it on me.

“What are you saying?”

“Liar. Rapist. Kidnapper. Torturer. You deserve no one’s mercy.”

Did she really think I was Kennet? “It’s me, Charlie.”

“Charlie’s safe and far away.” She stepped even closer, too angry to show any fear. “You’re dying tonight!” The carvings on her demon blade glowed with orange and green and I remembered the stories she and my dad had told of how she’d defeated Antoine, Eleanor’s second in command. She’d tricked him into believing she was too badly injured to hurt him and he’d moved close enough for her to sink Liam’s enchanted dagger into his heart, cutting off his head with the next stroke.

The loathing in her expression bent me over, her words sending hot spears through my gut. I stumbled in reverse, but when I reached the edge of the ring-shaped area I was tossed back toward the center by an invisible force. Apparently I was stuck in the clearing with my knife-wielding mother.

There was a vibration at my waist where my own ancient blade rested, but I ignored it. I’d never raise a hand or a weapon against my mom, not even to save my own life.

Torches flared to life around the former dueling grounds, giving it a more medieval feel. The sand underneath my surprisingly bare feet was sticky with blood, as if we’d walked in at the end of some earlier skirmish. To add to the drama, my mom and I were now dressed in battle garb, including leather pants and tunics. I’d never felt even a wisp of the magic required to dissolve my jeans and tee and dress me in this ridiculous costume.

Freakin’ goblins.

Now officially pissed off, I forced my mind to kick into gear. They wanted a show, right? Sooo, this must all be part of the reality sitcom these sadists are forcing me to participate in. Clues clicked into place. This female must be an actor—a damn good one.

She circled the ring and I countered, watching her movements and getting a good whiff of her scent. No. She smelled and moved like my mom, and her aura was perfect—down to the orange threads woven into the healer green. No one was this good. Not even Brina.

She lunged at me with the dagger.

I spun away, ending up behind her. “I don’t want to hurt you, Mom.”

“As if you could, Kennet. Fin took your magic away.”

If I were Kennet, then yes, but the son she didn’t recognize had no trouble reaching for the lines. Other than using them to escape, their magic came to my call, filling me with fae and demon power—certainly enough to stop her.

“I’m Charlie. Please don’t call me Kennet.” I wanted to throw up, but I was afraid she’d stab me while I was barfing. What kind of sick goblin bastard would do this—pit me against my own mother? I was so gonna punch Isaiah for dragging me to this deranged realm.

“Liar!” She swept at me again, the dagger missing my stomach by only inches.

“You know it’s me. Where’s Dad?”

“Don’t speak of Garrett! He’s safe at home, as I was until a few moments ago. She straightened and met my gaze, her eyes filled with revulsion.

Every day I saw my birth father looking back at me from the mirror. No wonder she thought I was the monster who’d forced her to conceive me. But didn’t she always say I had her mouth and chin and didn’t really look like… I shook my head, glancing around wildly. Dad had to be here. He’d never let her come by herself. “You have to believe me.” I was shocked to hear my voice quiver, to feel my eyes filling up. I was losing control of my emotions—which never happened to me. I kept my emotions on lock down all the time, mostly because losing control of them might mean losing control of my magic. And that would be disastrous.

These fucking goblins were getting their rocks off watching me live out one of my worst fears. I clenched my fists and backed away. I wasn’t going to give them any more of a show.

“Prove it. Prove you’re Charlie,” my mom demanded.

In desperation, I said the first thing that popped into my muddled brain. “You used to read ‘The Once and Future King’ to me and—and ‘Robin Hood’.”

She shook her head, narrowing her eyes in anger. “You made me bring Charlie to you when he was young. You know what he read. Everyone did.”

She was stalking me now, circling me, my death in her heated gaze. How could this be happening? “Fight me. I want to draw your blood.”

I’d have to do something to stop her. Maybe chain her up or knock her unconscious. But both thoughts made me ill. If I hurt her in any way, I really would be Kennet. If this female was really my mom, maybe she was being forced by the goblins to behave this way. I had to get through to her somehow. An idea took form that was reckless, maybe dangerous, but it was my only option.

She wouldn’t kill me if I surrendered. She was a healer like me, which made the way she was acting completely out of character. And if this wasn’t my mom, and she attacked me with the powerful spelled blade, I should still have enough magical strength to restrain her.

I fell to my knees and took my dagger out of its sheath, leaving it on the ground in front of me. I raised my hands out to the sides, palms up. “I surrender to you.” My actions shocked her and she stumbled a few steps backward. “Please hear me. I’m not my birth father. I’m your son.”

She straightened, her body relaxing at last. “My son wouldn’t fight me.”

“Never.”

“He wouldn’t harm me,” she said.

“I’d rather die.”

“Kennet would happily hurt me. Even kill me.”

“Yes, particularly after what happened at court last year.” She’d refused him yet again in front of the entire Faerie Court.

She smiled that angelic smile which must have blown Garrett’s mind the first time he was the recipient. “You’re nothing like him,” she whispered.

I’d heard those words from her so many times before, but I’d never truly believed them. She’d known how I struggled with my identity and my magic and she’d always done what she could to help me. I hadn’t been too appreciative, but she’d never given up on me. I took in a deep breath of her floral scent—reminding me of home and all the good things that word brought to mind. I closed my eyes.

“Rise, Charles, and speak to me of the future.” I jumped to my feet and looked around. My mom was gone, replaced by Aedus, one of my many fae cousins and the top warrior in the Cascade Sidhe, much to Brina’s and her sister Kaera’s aggravation. The two sisters’ goal in life, seemed to be to take down Aedus on the sparring field.

He drew his enchanted sword and suddenly the sand was clean of blood and another sword lay next to my dagger, the hilt pointing in my direction.

It looked like Aedus and I weren’t going to be doing much talking.

I sighed, sheathed my ancient dagger, took hold of the hilt of the sword and stood. I kept the sword blade pointed down at the ground, a sign that I was not ready or willing to fight him.

“Aedus.” I nodded, keeping it shallow. I wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about being ordered around by my eighteen hundred year old cousin. Ordering people around was one of his favorite things to do, but I wasn’t a fan.

He didn’t nod back, a total breach of fae etiquette. “Why do you not attend meetings in Cascade when you are summoned?” he asked. Aedus was known for his directness—also his arrogance.

I spread my stance and relaxed my muscles the way Isaiah did. This conversation could go badly, but I wasn’t gonna show him any fear. “You have no right to summon me. I’m not a citizen of Faerie.”

Since his father, Lord Caelen, had moved to court with his wife and consort to work with King Finvarra, Aedus had been made an elder in the Cascade Sidhe. His mate Philladre and his daughter Linn were very pleased, but I wasn’t so sure about Aedus, even though he’d trained his entire life for the position. It was clear Aedus would rather lead an army than a boardroom.

His square chin jutted forward, matching the angle of his chest. “Do you claim citizenship in the Demon Realm instead? Do you now support Naberia?”

I threw the sword down, but it appeared in my hand once more. Freakin’ goblins! “No. I will always be a loyal ally to the fae of Cascade.” No response. “I’ve explained to King Finvarra if I swear allegiance—if I take a blood oath—I can’t remain neutral.”

“What you mean is that you cannot avoid the battles to come.”

“Yes.” His expression was icy. “I’m a healer. I’m not a coward, Aedus.” He didn’t reply in words, but his expression was a three-hundred-page novel. “That’s what you think, right?”

He hesitated before answering. “I would not have said yes one year ago, but now?” His shoulders relaxed, real emotions finally making an appearance in the softening of his gaze. “You have changed in unexpected ways, Charles. We are concerned you are not taking the future seriously.” Straightening again, he began to circle me, his aura expanding and brightening.

“Are you really going to fight me?” I turned in place, carefully keeping my sword at rest. No way was I prepared to fight this guy. No way was I prepared to fight any fae. Or demon. Or even goblin.

“We have not sparred since you were fourteen. I would see how you have improved.” There was a touch of snarkiness in his tone I really didn’t like.

I frowned at the sword in my hand. “Do you honestly believe that Naberia is going to hold to the old ways of warfare? That she won’t make use of modern weapons? Maybe the fae should learn to use guns.”

“Doing so would be a tremendous breach of honor and would bring disaster. The modern rules of war were agreed to in a sacred blood oath made by the rulers of our three realms—fae, demon and unseelie—set in place many hundreds of thousands of human years ago. There will be magical consequences if our agreement is broken by any party.”

I let my mind glaze over the idea of them being on earth for hundreds of thousands of years and calling the oath they swore back then modern. I asked, “What kind of magical consequences?”

“World changing. I cannot say more.” Of course he couldn’t. Half the time I felt like I was a character in one of those thrillers where nothing was made clear until the very last chapter. “I can say, that if Naberia employed a weapon such as a gun, her powers would weaken. Her followers’ magics would weaken as well, no matter the species.” He stopped and straightened. “The same rules apply to us. We cannot personally use the weapons your team has developed. Only our own magic, our own bodies, and the weapons used by our people at the time of the agreement.”

“Well that sucks.”

“No. It keeps the competition fair and prevents long-term damage to the planet and the people who occupy your world. Otherwise we would destroy the earth with magical weapons created for the annihilation of entire races.”

He was moving again, so I kept my gaze on the movement of his body, the shifting of his center, waiting for an attack. If the rumors were true, Aedus was a warrior only two had bested since he’d reached adulthood. One was his father, Lord Caelen, and surprisingly, the other was Brina, who never hesitated to remind her cousin Aedus at every opportunity. What she didn’t ever mention was that she’d been in a rage because he’d just dumped her, or that he’d kicked her ass on the sparring field on hundreds of other occasions.

He arched a dark eyebrow. “Have you been in recent contact with your great-grandmother?”

“I told you—”

“I am not asking if you have sided with her and her people against us. You answered that question to my satisfaction.”

I groaned inwardly. How awesome was it that I’d pleased him with my answer? Aedus’ cool expression never cracked. “No. She hasn’t contacted me. I’d be happy as a clam if I never saw that female again.”

His puzzled expression almost had me laughing out loud. Guess he never knew clams could be happy. “Did Naberia mistreat you when you spent time in your uncle’s realm?” he asked.

“No, in fact she was, um, friendly…but…” I swallowed hard, remembering the one time I’d come in contact with my creepy great-grandmother. “Something felt wrong when she...she touched me. She was so cold, her skin, but on the inside too, you know?”

“She is of the ancients, as is our king and the other.”

“What other”

“The Unseelie Cur.” I’d heard that expression before from Finvarra when he was referring to Khent.

“Uh.” I glanced around, looking for cameras. “You do know he’s watching, right?”

Aedus frowned up at the sky. “That fact will certainly not affect what transpires here today.”

I frowned, suddenly suspicious. “Is this a dream? Did they give me drugs?”

“No.”

“So that was really my mom?”

“No. Your mother is safely at home.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. Was she an actor?”

“No.”

“Are you really here?” I reached and touched his shoulder. Solid as a rock.

“As you see, I am.” He tilted his head and arched a brow.

“But are you Aedus?” I arched an eyebrow, feeling as if I might be getting close to an answer.

“To you, for now, yes.”

I leaned a little closer and whispered. “Can you take me out of here?”

“I did not come through the lines and have no access to them.”

I threw down the sword again. This time it stayed where it landed. “What the hell’s going on?”

“You are using your magic—stretching the legs, arms and fingers of your power. Gaining these skills will enable you and those you love to survive.” He swung his sword a few times, loosening his shoulders.

The way he’d described what was happening made it sound so clear, his tone so matter-of-fact, but my muddled brain couldn’t put the pieces together. “To survive what?”

“What is to come.” He shifted his stance and my sword was once more in my hand. “We will spar now.”

I glared at the sword, then at Aedus, who was now in the traditional sword-wielding stance of the fae, slightly angled with one foot in front of the other. At this point I was tired of our question and answer period. Maybe a little sparring was just what my hyped up metabolism needed. “Whatever.”

He smiled for the first time—at least his version of a smile. No teeth were showing. Aedus only did the toothy grin thing around his mate, Philladre, and their daughter, Linn.

We took stock of each other. Aedus was my height, but his body was broader and I was pretty sure his reach with a sword was at least an inch or two longer—a real advantage when fighting with a handheld weapon. His hair was long and dark like our grandfather’s, King Finvarra, and his eyes were the same amethyst shade as Liam’s, his younger brother. Like Isaiah, Aedus was also considered hot stuff in the realm of Faerie and beyond, but all that concerned me at the moment was the intensity of his magic and the sharpness of his blade.

We weren’t using practice swords. Could I really get hurt in this dream or vision or whatever this was? Time to find out.

“We will not use battle magic,” he announced.

An order. I’d been swinging my blade to familiarize myself with the weight and the grip, but I stopped to respond. “What if I don’t agree?” When it came to magic, I might actually have an advantage.

His mouth twitched at the corner. “I will best you either way, Cousin, but I wish to see your skill without interference.”

I shrugged and took my position, shifting my weight as I’d been taught, relaxing my body so I’d be able to move quickly. I figured without magic I might last a whole minute against my cuz if I was lucky. After that I’d be sushi.

When he struck I was ready, but the second blow knocked my weapon completely out of my hand. The third blow sliced through my neck like it was butter.