Beauty [A Faery Story 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (41 page)

A second man, this one slightly shorter but just as fit, his brown hair curling over the edges of his tunic collar, walked out of the woods carrying a young man in his arms.

“I told you I would bring you to safety,” the phooka said.

Nathan struggled a little with the body in his arms, but he seemed resolute. “You told us you would take us back to Aoibhneas.”

Shim moved forward. “You’re the Harpers’ friends. The one whose boy was taken by Torin.”

Bron moved, sidestepping Lach and slipping toward the newcomers. Gillian moved, too, though Roan and Harry did nothing to stop her.

“She’s very good with white magic,” Roan said. “Why don’t you bring the child over here to the bed?”

Roan tossed the cube to the ground and in an instant it was a full-size air bed. Nathan gently laid his son on the top. The boy looked to be more of a young man, roughly fifteen or sixteen. He was malnourished, his body a mass of gangly arms and legs.

Nate put a hand on his son’s head, smoothing his hair back. “He was taken when we brought our wine to the marketplace. We’re isolated. We hadn’t heard that Torin was laying claim to all bondmates. Honestly, we didn’t know he could bond.”

“The mayor told us he could.” Zane stood over them both, his eyes worried.

Nathan’s lips turned up in a little smile. “The mayor is insane and he told us Charlie could bond because of that device Caleb made for him to track Planeswalker demons. Please excuse us. Our mayor is a brilliant warrior, but he’s deeply preoccupied with what he calls the coming Demon Invasion. Anyway. Zane and I were haggling and then Charlie was gone. He’s been missing for two years. If Torin is selling bondmates to vampires, why wouldn’t he feed our son? Wouldn’t a vampire want a healthy mate?”

Roan stared down at the boy, his mouth a harsh line. “Your son is certainly a consort or what you would call a bondmate. I see his glow as clearly as the female consorts here.”

“And any vampire would be horrified at his condition,” Dellacourt assured them.

Lach felt a building rage. Torin hadn’t meant to sell this boy. No vampire would accept that his consort had been treated in such a way. “I’m not a full vampire, but I know for a fact that the one way to have gotten the council to enter this war was for word to leak that consorts were being abused. They would have invaded.”

Gillian kneeled by the bed, laying her hands on the young man. She closed her eyes and seemed to be calling on that part of herself that worked magic. “He’s been fed upon, but not in any way I understand.”

Lach’s stomach turned. He remembered the vision the hag had sent him. “The hag. She’s been eating at his soul.”

Nate made a low moan of pain and clutched his son’s hand. Zane turned a stark white.

“What does it mean?” Zane asked.

Thank gods his smarter half liked to study. Shim folded his arms across his chest. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Hags, even some non-corporeal dead, can feast on the living. What I believe she’s trying to do is absorb his psychic power.”

“She wants to be able to bond?” Bronwyn asked. “Why?”

Shim shrugged. “I don’t know, love, but it would explain the ritual of soul eating. It would take a long time. She would have to drain him over a couple of days or weeks. She would take his blood, withhold food and water. She would torture him. Anything to break down his resistance. The body needs a soul. It would rather die than go without one so she has to be careful. If she simply killed him, the soul would go wherever souls go.”

“Through the door,” Duffy said. Lach felt his heart twist as his brother, his little champion, spoke. His small hands clenched together. “There’s a door and light. It calls to a soul, tells you to go through, that more adventures are waiting, just waiting past that door.” He shook his head and a deep breath filled his lungs. “Or that’s what I’ve heard.”

Shim looked at Duffy, suspicion clear in his eyes, but he continued anyway. “She has to bring him to the brink of death, little by little so the soul hovers, unsure whether it’s time to go or not. And she catches it and consumes it in a ritual. I’ve only read about it, of course, but technically it should give the hag any powers the soul contained. Consorts and bondmates have measurable psychic energy. I’m sure that makes her spells more powerful.”

“She’s making up for the lack of three.” Charlie’s eyes opened, his voice strained.

“Don’t, son,” Zane said. “Rest. We’ll have you home to your mother soon.”

Charlie’s head shook. “Already feel a little stronger. How did you get into the dungeon?”

“Believe it or not, a sluagh guided us. He knew how to sneak in.” Nate gripped his son’s hand. “I know this sounds crazy, but he looked just like the old king.”

Bronwyn sniffled a little. “My father. I was told he fought to stay even after he died. He’s still fighting for his kingdom.”

A kernel of guilt opened inside Lach. Duffy’s words echoed in his ears, but he wasn’t going to let them sway him. Bronwyn needed to be safe. Duffy needed to be safe. It was better than any cause.

Charlie’s head turned at the sound of Bronwyn’s voice. “It’s you.”

She smiled, a little sadly. “I am Princess Bronwyn. I am so sorry I haven’t done anything to help.”

“No. Not the princess. You’re the voice. You’re the voice in our heads. Goddess, I can’t believe you’re real. Can’t you all hear it? Do you hear the hum?”

Kaja walked to the bed. “I have heard it for days, but Dante thought it was all the vampire technology.”

Gillian’s eyes turned down. “I’ve heard it since the day I met her as a girl. But it was faint. Just a hum in the back of my mind until the last few days.”

Lach closed his eyes, the enormity of what his wife was hitting him squarely in the chest. He didn’t want to be sure, but he had to. “Bronwyn, think something.”

She glanced at him, confusion on her face. “I am almost always thinking something.”

Shim seemed to understand immediately. “Think something at Gillian. Specifically. Try to get her to hear you.”

Bron turned toward Gillian and her brow set in a serious line.

Gillian, Kaja, and Charlie all winced, each holding their heads. “You don’t have to shout.”

“Sorry.”

“And I don’t think I’m old enough to hear those words,” Charlie said, his face looking boyish for a moment.

Kaja gave her a smile. “You should use a sharp knife, Bronwyn. A rusty one will cut off your husbands’ manly parts very slowly.”

“I think she was hoping to cause a little pain, baby,” Dante said.

“Well, I don’t see why they would stand there and allow their little men to be sawed off with something dull,” Kaja argued.

Shim looked at Lach as the others seemed to laugh and find Bron’s power curious, but Shim had a grave look in his eyes. “You don’t think she could do other things, do you?”

“I hope not, brother, otherwise she would be a powerful weapon. I also think I know why the hag is doing it.” The thought had occurred to him almost immediately.

But Shim was right there with him. “They intend to kill Torin and take over the plane.”

Charlie held out a hand, and his father helped him to sit up. “Yes. What the big guy said.”

The phooka laughed and fell to the bed Charlie lay on. “The big guy is the Unseelie prince, Charles.”

Bronwyn stared at the phooka. “Why are you here? You’re the same creature who convinced me to run.”

“Then he is the same creature who I am about to throttle.” The fucking phooka seemed to have his hand in everything. Lach was ready to put the little shit out of his misery.

“I am simply more adept at this game than any of you,” the phooka replied, his midnight-black tail twitching. “I am certainly smarter than the Unseelies. Princess Bronwyn is the most important piece to this little game we’re playing. If you take her off the board, this plane falls to Torin and Torin to the hags. The only reason the hags haven’t taken over yet is the fact that they lost a sister. Everyone knows they’re stronger in threes, but they found a way around it.”

“To become soul eaters,” Gillian said hollowly. “I don’t understand what any of this has to do with Bronwyn. Is she going to hum the hags to death?”

Bron looked up at Shim. “How do you send power to me?”

Shim frowned. “I don’t think I do. I feel you pull it from me. The first few times I fought it a little and it went wild. When I realized what was happening and let it flow, I could control it a bit more.”

Bron took Charlie’s hand. “Don’t be afraid.”

The young Fae had a wisp of a smile. “I know what fear is. I’ve moved long past it. Fear is something you get through or you die. So feel free to experiment, Your Highness.”

Bron took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“Damn it, Bron.” Shim gritted his teeth. “Fine, but this is a mistake.”

Even Lach could feel it. Bron reached and held the connection. She drew on it, passing up his cold power for Shim’s hot one. Lach was fascinated. Now that he knew what was happening, he realized it had happened before. His power was buried deep, deep down inside, but Shim’s simmered at the surface. It was easy to reach and hold. It was easy to share.

Charlie gasped and looked down at his hand. “Bugger me. I’m on fire and it doesn’t hurt.”

He wiggled his fingers a little, flames at the tips. His fathers both stared.

Dellacourt cursed. “She’s a conduit. Gods, she isn’t a broadcaster. She’s a bloody conduit.”

Bron’s whole face lit up. “I can help us win. Lach, Shim. I can win this war.”

Lach shook his head. “Absolutely not. You’re going home and there you will stay. Roan, if you don’t have us in Aoibhneas by dark tomorrow, I will find my own way. If any of you thinks for one bloody second that I intend to let you use my mate as a fucking psychic cannon, you’re insane. She is not going to any battlefield.”

Lach turned before Bronwyn could curse him.

Curse him or not. She would be alive at the end of the day.

* * * *

Bron approached Lach with no small amount of trepidation. Shim walked behind her, his boots shuffling along the ground. Shim hadn’t argued, hadn’t said much at all. He’d just watched Lach walk away after ordering Duffy to not walk past the river.

The gnome had looked up with a sad look on his face until Gillian had taken his hand and asked him to sit with her while she healed Charlie.

A curious excitement flowed through her, but it was tempered with sadness. She had one more play to make and then it would be over.

She would lose her kingdom or her men.

“Please don’t be angry with him.” Shim reached out and grasped her hand.

Funny. His hand felt right tangling with hers as though all these years it had been waiting to be entwined with his. She’d only been physically with them for a few days and already she knew she wanted them forever. She was happy just being around them, but happiness wasn’t the only thing important in life.

She respected the fact that they would one day rule a kingdom. They owed their people. Couldn’t they understand that she owed hers, too?

“I’m not angry, Shim. I’m sad.”

His eyes turned down, watching the place where their fingers met. “I can feel it. It’s worse than mad. Please, Bron. Can’t you understand?”

“I can’t. Don’t you love your people? Wouldn’t you do anything to keep them safe? You will rule over them one day.” She remembered her father’s words. “A king is only good to his people if he is useful.”

It was a lesson her uncle hadn’t learned.

“After Lach was burned and I was weak, I think my father decided we would never be fit to rule. Bron, we weren’t brought up to lead. We were hidden away because my father feared we would either be killed or judged as too weak to rule. So we concentrated on the one thing we had.”

“Me.” She understood that much. They loved her. She accepted it. Over the last days, they had treated her with an affection that went far beyond courtesy. They seemed to anticipate her needs. When they had stopped in a village, they would bring her favorite cheese and bread and fruit. When her feet hurt from walking, Lach had dropped down, removed her boots, and rubbed the soles of her aching feet until she was purring.

She’d never felt so loved and taken care of. They held her at night, passing her between them. Lach would hold her with a possessive strength that made her feel safe and Shim with such delicacy that she felt adored.

Why couldn’t they see to her soul? She could answer that question. Because she’d been too afraid to show them.

That ended tonight and she would either have them on her side or she would have a decision to make—one she feared she’d already made.

“Shim, I am sorry for how your father handled your illness and Lach’s injury, but you have to see that I can win this war.”

He used his free hand to touch her face. “I see that you can die. Gods, Bron, a handful of days wasn’t enough.”

She was just going to have to show him. She couldn’t tell him what she was going to do. They would shut down. But she knew them. She knew what they longed for. She would make love with them and when they reached out for the true bond. She would take it, give them her soul.