Faery Queen (6 page)

“I'm not joining you,” Tania said.

Lucien laughed. “You already have, little faery. Whatever malady you suffer has made you join me. I can sense the darkness in you, the hate, so close to my own magic. Mmm, it is delightful.”

Tania closed her eyes, deliberately pulling her face from his hand. Lucien walked behind her, circling her chair before standing directly in front of her. Placing his hands on the arms of her throne, he leaned over her, trapping her to the seat. Tania felt a shiver of fear work up her spine at his nearness. Heat radiated off him, but that wasn't all. His very presence crushed whatever pleasure or hope she had left, depressing her more. Lucien was like an empty void that sucked and drained everything around him. Normally, he couldn't hurt her, but she was weakened from a broken heart and his nearness easily influenced her emotions.

The Damned King licked his lips. Closing his eyes, he slowly turned his head to the side, smelling her. When he'd finished, he said, “Methought you had been damaged, my virgin queen, but I now see that it is being undamaged that haunts you. I smell your heart. It aches, each little broken piece of it.” He sighed heavily, a faint smile on his lips. “Each piece calls to me for help. Your soul wants me to be here and a part of you longs for me to end your suffering.”

Tania closed her eyes. To have him speak of it sullied the emotions she felt.

“Who do I owe thanks for this change in you?” Lucien touched her thigh, rubbing it through the thin silk of her gown. “Who would you have me punish to free you from this? Just say the words. Ask me to help you, to take away your pain. Give it to me and I will give you such pleasures in return.”

“I'm not asking you for that. You cannot have my soul,” she answered, just as softly. “I will never give it to you.”

He drew his finger along the inside of her leg, sending heat wherever he touched. His tone low, his words measured, he continued seductively, “Then perhaps you will give me something else? Keep your soul, but give in to me, join me and I will give you the same pleasure. Even you can admit the generosity of that offer, can you not, my queen?”

Tania tensed. The “something else” he wanted was clear. Her body responded to his impious words, his unthinkable offer. Lust wasn't necessarily a sin, but lust the way he offered it was. There would only be malice in his kisses, evil in his touch, death in his love. Funny to think the King of the Damned could feel something like love, but love was like all emotions—dark and light, blessed and unblessed, happy and sad. It was where that love came from that made it good or evil.

“Shall I repay this mystery man of yours by showing you how wickedly enjoyable it is to fall from faery grace? Shall I bind you to me, to the pleasure of sin? Would you like me to take that ache away from you? I have the power. I can take your suffering, give you sin without remorse, give you pleasure without consequence. Think of the freedom, the power, the pleasure.”

Tania gasped, breathing hard. His offer was tempting. Why had she called him here? What insanity had taken hold in her to make her think she could fight Lucien and win? She was too weak. He was so strong.

Taking his hand in hers, she pushed it away. “Are you finished?”

“Do you reject my proposal, little faery?”

“You call that a proposal?” It took all her power to deny him.

“You wish for me to explain in full, torrid detail what I am proposing?” His tone dipped so low she could barely hear it.

“I wish for you to stop talking so we may discuss the reason I asked you here.”

Lucien laughed and pushed directly back from her throne. A chair formed behind him, catching him so he didn't fall on the floor. He sat, facing her, his eyes on her—studying, probing, mocking. The dark and twisted lines of his throne were not her doing. She knew his magic to be much stronger than hers, but he shouldn't have been able to manipulate her palace. This was her home, built by her magic.

“I'm listening.” He lazily draped his arms over the sides, tapping his nails in a steady rhythm against the stone chair.

“Lord Bellemare,” Tania said, doing her best to regain her composure. “I want him brought to me. Alive.”

Lucien froze, his hands lifted in mid-tap as he studied her for a long moment. She'd shocked him.

“In exchange,” she continued, “I will grant you one night in the mortal realm. I will let the magic of the faeries slip away so you may pass through one of our rings.”

“Not much can be done in one night,” Lucien said.

“It is a simple task I ask, but one I cannot do myself for reasons I will not discuss.” Tania arched a brow. “And one night is more than you have now.”

Lucien grinned, lifting his hand to the side. A small ring of fire appeared in his palm. “Is that all?”

“The Bellemare family remains unharmed.”

“Mmm, nay,” Lucien shook his head. “I cannot promise that. No fun is to be had in that pledge.”

“Then his family is to remain unharmed for a fortnight after he is brought to me alive. Naught can happen to them before that time. Not one single injury by your doing or responsibility.”

He merely stared at her.

“Have we a deal?” It took all her willpower to stay calm. Lucien was not a man to easily cross.

“Why?”

“That is my concern.” She lifted her chin. “Have we a deal?”

“Is he the one?”

“Have we a deal?”

“Kidnapping protected mortals is a grave thing,” he warned, though his concern was fake. “You would not want anyone to know, would you?”

The fire twisted off the tips of his hand, moving through the air toward her chin. He wiggled his fingers, sending the fiery trail down her chest. The flame glanced over her nipples, igniting a shockwave of carnal pleasure over her. She slashed her hand through the flame, freezing it so he was forced to stop. The fire trail dropped, crashing on the ground like tinkling red-orange gems before puffing into a line of smoke.

“What would happen if King Ean found out?” he continued as if nothing had happened. “Bellemare is blessed by him after all. You have seen what happens to people who take his wards. King Merrick stole Juliana and the two kingdoms are now at war. Are the faeries ready to fight Tegwen as well? Will you join forces with Merrick? Will you join forces with me?”

“You know as well as I, to do that would only help you. I will not join you, Lucien, and I will not cross King Ean. My business with Lord Bellemare is my own and my taking him does not concern the Blessed Kingdom. Why do you think I send you to fetch him? The deed of crossing him over will be yours. Now, I ask you again? Have we a deal?” Tania was apprehensive, as she waited his answer.

“Aye,” Lucien agreed, nodding. “We do.”

“When?”

“It is already in motion.” He grinned. “I will simply change my course for yours instead.”

Holding out his hand, fire formed in his palm, molding into a knife. He took the blade and slashed it across his palm before offering the hilt to Tania. She hesitated. He wanted the agreement in blood? She had thought he'd want to leave himself an out, but a contract like this was impenetrable. Knowing that he'd be bound to bring Hugh to her alive and to keep his family safe for at least a short while after, she held out her hand. A few weeks would give her enough time to set things right with Hugh.

Instead of taking the knife, Tania stretched her fingers and waited. She didn't have the stomach to cut herself. Lucien laughed, even as he sliced through her hand.

Tania moaned at the sharp pain. Faeries weren't meant for ugly dealings such as these. They were meant to only see beauty and happiness. Each moment that passed a piece of her died, withering with Lucien's nearness. She only hoped he brought Hugh to her in time to save whatever light magic she had left. Only, when Hugh was brought to her, what would she do? Force him to love her?

I will deal with that when the time comes.

Lucien pressed his hand to hers, his blood burned like acid as it bound into her system. She screamed, automatically jerking her arm away. He held it tighter, refusing to let go.

“So shall it be,” he said, his black eyes bright with an inner fire. “A pact is made and bound by blood.”

Tania felt nauseous, even as she nodded, whispering, “So shall it be.”

Lucien disappeared, taking his throne chair with him and Tania fell forward, landing on her hands and knees as she threw up onto the ground. Her body burned and the knife wound refused to heal itself. She was getting weaker. She hadn't much time.

Whimpering, she rolled on her side and curled into a ball at the foot of her throne. She felt Lucien's influence all around her. “Please let this alliance not be a mistake. Make Hugh love me again. Make him love me.”

Chapter Three

Euric's face was white when Hugh and Thomas reached the courtyard. Without uttering a word, the man pointed toward Bellemare's stables. A crowd of servants and knights had gathered outside the wooden structure. Hugh pushed through them. A woman screamed near the front of the group, drawing his attention briefly to her. He couldn't see any reason for her cries so dismissed her as hysterical as he continued his way through the crowd.

“Back away!” Geoffrey yelled. The crowd listened, albeit slowly.

“What is…?” Thomas' words trailed off.

Hugh came out of the crowd, his stomach tight with worry that it was William. The relief he felt was bittersweet as he looked down. A dead foal lay on the ground, its head missing and its body still covered in the evidence of its birth. Behind him, he heard the low tones of the castle's monk reciting prayers. Hugh was too shaken to translate the Latin words in his head.

“What did this?” Thomas asked, kneeling by the dead animal to examine it closely without touching it. “The neck looks gnawed on.”

“That is not from the ones stillborn last night,” Hugh answered. “The markings on his legs are different.”

“You mean we lost another?” Thomas swore softly. “Nay, it cannot be. Why is this happening?”

Hugh glanced at his brother, thankful that he'd said the words softly. He didn't want the people of Bellemare panicking any more than they were. A loud thump sounded inside the stables causing a collective gasp of alarm.

“What was that?” Thomas stood. Hugh looked at the stables, trying to listen over the murmur of voices behind him.

Another thump sounded, followed by a crash against the stable wall. The wood reverberated, sending chills over Hugh. Require him to face a man three times his size in battle and he would do so without question, but this? He swallowed, drawing his sword. The action prompted the others to do the same. He vaguely heard the monk urging the crowd further back still, frightening them with words about the evil that lurked within the stables.

“Mayhap the monk and the violet-eyed woman are right,” Hugh said to Thomas. “Mayhap the devil has come to Bellemare.”

“Aye,” Thomas agreed. Geoffrey gave the brothers a strange look but said nothing.

Someone passed Hugh a torch and he took it, holding it up in one hand while wielding his sword with the other. He went forward first, leading the way into the dark stables. More evidence of slaughtered horses greeted them and the acrid smell of blood was thick on the air. A horse whinnied and stomped, kicking at the wood, giving evidence to the sound they'd heard outside.

“Show yourself,” Hugh ordered, holding the torch high. His skin prickled with the knowledge that they weren't alone, that something else was in the room with them, waiting in the darkness. He stepped over an unrecognizable bloody mass on the floor, doing his best not to breathe in the smell.

They passed a mare still tethered in her stall. Thomas patted the animal's neck, looking alongside it. He shook his head, indicating that no one was there.

“This is Lord Bellemare,” Hugh shouted, “show yourself!”

“Do you really think a man did this?” Geoffrey asked. “Perchance a wolf?”

Suddenly, a low growl came from the back. It was a throaty, juicy sound. Hugh edged forward, concentrating on his surroundings. The circle of light did little to give comfort in the darkness. Something flew out of the shadows at him, hitting his wrist and forcing him to drop the torch. As the light fell, he realized it was a severed horse's leg that struck him.

Aye, perchance a wolf,
Hugh thought, hoping it was so, but not convinced by the explanation. The torch fire hit straw and ignited, sending a blaze to light the stables.

“By all that is holy!” Thomas pointed at the beast that had attacked the horses. It wasn't an animal, and most definitely not a wolf. “It looks like a—a man.”

“That is not a man,” Geoffrey whispered. “It is a…”

“A man-beast,” Hugh finished, unable to think of what else to call it.

The creature wore the tattered clothes of a nobleman, covered in dirt and leaves. Skeletal hands reached out, dripping with blood. Flesh rotted off the dead man's face, hanging in patches.

The earl gagged, Geoffrey made a weak noise and Thomas swore under his breath. Hugh knew they were all three frightened, but he trusted the other two to stay by him.

They had all seen dead men after the bodies had been left out past their time for burial. They had seen corpses and horror, slain men on the sides of battlefields. Such was the lot of a knight. But, never had they seen a man come back from the dead.

“Lord Eadward?” Hugh whispered, seeing the crest on the creature's cloak. The symbol was as familiar to him as his own crest. Eadward was Juliana's dead fiancé and had been a friend of Hugh's father. The man had been killed by his demon-possessed son, who also happened to be their childhood friend—Sir Nicholas. It took place right before Juliana was taken by Merrick to the Otherworld.

“It cannot be,” Geoffrey said. “Lord Eadward has been dead for nigh over a year.”