Prince of Air and Darkness (30 page)

“May I disable the doorbell?” Conan asked.

“Please do,” her mother agreed.

Conan slipped away from the table. For a few more minutes, the ringing continued. Then, it abruptly ceased. Kiera smiled at the beautiful silence, until Conan returned to the dining room and she saw the grim set of his face.

“What is it?” she cried.

He sat on a chair beside her, turning it to face her square on. “Hunter failed.” Kiera gasped in pain and shut her eyes tight to keep from crying yet again. “The goblins claim that if you give yourself up, they’ll let Hunter go. Supposedly, they’ll take you to Faerie until you give birth, then they’ll let both you and Hunter go and keep the child. It’s a patent lie, of course. One cannot make bargains with the Unseelie. And they won’t want to leave anyone alive who might tell Finvarra that he has a new grandchild on the way. They’ll want the child to grow into his or her power before Finvarra knows there’s a danger. Then, there will be a war the likes of which Faerie has never seen before.”

Kiera nodded numbly. Even if she had reason to believe the Unseelie would keep their end of the bargain, she knew she couldn’t take it. She could not sacrifice a helpless child to the Unseelie Court. Reflexively, she put a hand on her belly. It still didn’t feel real—it was almost impossible to believe that Hunter’s child was growing inside her. And yet the goblins outside the door were further proof.

Kiera frowned. “Excuse me if this is a dumb question, but why are you still here? You’re Finvarra’s spy, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you have run off to Faerie with the big news?”

Conan shifted uncomfortably, and he and her mother shared a look she couldn’t interpret.

“We . . . discussed the situation last night,” her mother said. “If Finvarra knew you were carrying this child, he’d insist on taking you to Faerie—whether you wanted to go or not. I’m sure he could keep both you and the baby physically safe there. But he would never let either of you go.”

Conan looked even more uncomfortable, with tight lines of displeasure at the corners of his mouth and eyes. Kiera felt sorry for him, stuck in the middle as he obviously was. She imagined Finvarra wouldn’t be at all happy with him if he ever learned about all of this.

“I don’t want the Queen
or
Finvarra within a hundred miles of me,” Kiera said. “We’re just going to have to find our own way out of this mess.” One that didn’t involve a lifetime of captivity for herself and the baby.

Her heart ached with a sudden yearning for Hunter.  He had risked everything in an effort to save her, to undo the damage he had done. As hopeless as her own situation felt, at least she was in the mortal world, protected by friends and family, those who would love and support her no matter what. Hunter, on the other hand, faced a gruesome death at the hands of his enemies.

An idea sparked in Kiera’s mind. She had something the goblins and their Queen wanted more than anything. She might not have the foggiest notion how she could protect herself and her baby in the long run, but perhaps she could use the little bit of leverage she had to good advantage . . .

Chapter 16

Hunter had retreated deep inside himself. For the first fifteen minutes or so that he’d been tied to the whipping posts, Bane’s cruel goading had distracted him. Eventually, Hunter had figured out how to tune him out and had ceased to hear the words until the goblin’s voice became nothing but a muffled buzzing sound.

In his near-trance, Hunter had no sense of time passing, didn’t know how long he had before his torment was slated to begin. He knew from bitter experience that he would snap back into full consciousness at the first bite of the whip, but for the time being he was content to drift. When he was drifting, he didn’t have to worry about what would happen to Kiera and the baby. Would Cathy overcome her hatred of Finvarra and help Kiera get to Faerie, as Hunter had requested in his letter?

An explosive crack and a fiery trail of pain across his shoulder blades snapped Hunter back to the real world. It had begun.

He clamped his jaw tightly, grinding his teeth until his face ached with it as lash after lash bit into his back. He tried to will himself back into the trance, but it was no use. He could only put himself in that peaceful place when there was no pain—or when there was too much pain. He almost welcomed the continued lashes, in hopes that they would help him find his way to oblivion.

He thought he might almost be there when the blows suddenly stopped coming. He cursed foully as his back burned and his breath came in short gasps. Bane circled the posts until he stood in front of Hunter. Hunter saw spots of his own blood on Bane’s body. The goblin was grinning in sadistic pleasure.

“Can’t be letting you slip away like you’ve been known to do, can I?” Bane said.

Hunter’s mouth was almost completely dry, but he gathered what moisture he could and spit weakly at the goblin. He missed.

Bane crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Hunter with cocked head. “Quite a puzzle,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Looks for all the world like your time is almost through. And yet, I know you’re going to kill me.” He shook his head and sniffed. “Doesn’t seem quite possible.”

Hunter wondered if the goblin was trying to further torture him with false hope. And yet, Bane had made the same outlandish claim long before Hunter condemned himself. Whether Hunter believed in the Queen’s “prophecy” or not didn’t matter; Bane obviously did.

Hunter rattled the chains that held him to the whipping posts. “Let me loose,” he rasped, “and I’ll get on with it.”

Bane laughed. “Don’t get me wrong, Boyo. I’m not eager to face my doom. Not that you’d match up so well against me right now anyway. Your knees must be feeling a little weak, no?”

Hunter wondered what the chances were of goading Bane into setting him free for a fight. He decided the chances were nil as long as the goblin was convinced Hunter would kill him somehow. Resigned to his eventual fate the goblin might be, but he wasn’t rushing to meet it.

Bane came closer and gave Hunter a shove in the chest. Hunter staggered, but managed to keep his legs under him. Bane made a disapproving noise.

“Still pretty steady, aren’t you? Let’s see if we can weaken those knees a bit.”

Hunter made a vain attempt to kick the goblin, but of course Bane was ready for it and dodged easily.

The lashes resumed, starting at his already-raw shoulders and inching down his back. He held on to his sanity with desperate strength, for if he let himself go he would start screaming. He refused to give Bane that satisfaction.

He had just enough rational thought left in him to realize that Bane had stopped the whipping when he sensed Hunter sliding toward that numb state of oblivion. Maybe Hunter could take advantage of the goblin’s sadistic desire to make sure he was fully aware of every stroke.

Hunter slowly let himself sag. Even though there was plenty of strength still in his legs, he bent his knees, letting the manacles support his weight as he lowered his chin to his chest. Bane muttered something about how Hunter’s time in the mortal world had made him into a weakling, and Hunter fought a smile as the lashes ceased. It was only the smallest of victories, but he’d take any victory he could get. And if that victory should save him a fraction of the pain he was destined to suffer, that was a nice bonus.

****

Her mother was pale as death, and Conan looked as though he’d been turned to stone.

Kiera sat up straighter and met their shocked stares with a calm that surprised even her. Her plan was crazy-dangerous, and woefully incomplete, but at least it offered a sliver of hope.

“You’re going to offer to give up your baby,” her mother whispered, as if she couldn’t believe the words.

“
Offer
being the operative word,” Kiera reminded her. “I’m sure they’ll know we’re up to something, but they’ll jump at anything that might make us open the door.”

Her plan was to offer to give up the baby of her own free will—if the goblins brought Hunter to her, alive and whole. She
knew
the Queen’s henchmen would go for it, knew they’d bring Hunter out of Faerie and right to her front door, whether they believed her offer was sincere or not. She hadn’t exactly worked out the details of what she would do when they brought him, beyond the thought that between her, her mother, and Conan, they would “somehow” find a way to rescue him. But if nothing else, it would give Hunter a chance to make his own escape.

“You would gain nothing by such a plan,” Conan said. “Nothing save the pain of having what you want dangled right in front of you where you can’t get it.”

“Not true,” she argued. “I would get Hunter out of Faerie.”

He curled his lips in disdain. “Temporarily. We cannot open the door for anyone, not even him.”

She ignored him, turning instead to her mother. “I can’t just let Hunter suffer without trying to help,” she said, a pleading edge in her voice. “Maybe this will all come to nothing. Maybe it will work and will only delay the inevitable. But the attempt would be worth something, at least to me. Besides, if they don’t go for it, there’s no harm done.”

“Oh, there you’re wrong, I can assure you,” Conan interrupted. “They’ll take you up on your offer, all right. And they’ll turn Hunter into a Trojan horse.”

“Conan—” she tried, but he spoke loudly over her objections.

“If he’s right outside your door, you won’t be able to resist the temptation to let him in, no matter what the danger. Do you think he’d be the only Unseelie creature to enter?”

“Why don’t you turn into a dog and shut up!” she snapped. His objection was perfectly reasonable, given the incomplete nature of her plan, but that didn’t mean she was going to put up with his naysaying.

Her mother held out a placating hand to each of them. “All right,” she said quietly, “let’s just stay calm and talk this over rationally.”

Conan turned his glare to her. “Your daughter is going to risk everything on a futile venture that could very well get you and me killed right along with her.”

“Your damned guard dog is sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Kiera retorted.

Her mother rubbed her face wearily. “How did I become the referee?”

Conan sniffed. “You volunteered.”

“Listen,” Kiera said, “the situation is desperate however we cut it. We’re trapped in this house. Even if we keep holding them off and manage not to starve to death, what will that gain us? Are we going to stay here forever? And when I have the baby, is it supposed to live its entire life trapped in this house?”

“I don’t see how promising to give them the baby if they bring Hunter to you is going to improve the situation any,” Conan growled. “Even if we miraculously got him through the door without the Unseelie horde breaking through, you would merely add a fourth occupant to help diminish our food supply.”

Her temper far past the breaking point, Kiera shot to her feet and did her best to tower over him, though his fey dignity made him seem taller than he was. “Why don’t you just go back to Faerie and save yourself, then? It’s not
you
the goblins want. You can just wash your hands of us and be done with it. Chalk it up to mortal stupidity!”

Conan rose from the sofa, his eyes blazing. When he reached his full height, the aura of strength and anger that surrounded him caused her to take an involuntary step backward. “I’ll chalk it up to mortal stupidity that you think somehow my concerns are centered upon my own well-being.” He looked as ferocious in his human form as he did as a snarling dog. Logically, Kiera knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but he was still damned intimidating.

If he’d looked any angrier, sparks would have flown off him. Kiera’s mother approached him warily, reaching for his shoulder. “Conan . . .”

His posture still rigid, he turned to face her, and Kiera let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“If Kiera is dead set on doing this, then there’s nothing we can do to stop her,” her mom said, her voice low and soothing.

“I can think of any number of ways,” he countered.

“None that I’d let you get away with!”

“Do you think you could stop me?”

Kiera remembered how fondly they’d been looking at each other this morning when she’d come down for breakfast, and she experienced a twinge of guilt. Her mother’s face was flushed with anger, and Conan was leaning into her like a bully, fists clenched at his sides.

“Don’t do this, okay?” Kiera begged, her own anger melting as she realized the strife she was causing. “Maybe we can set up some kind of secondary barrier around the doorway. Mom could ward that barrier and you two could stay behind it. That way if the goblins do breech the doorway Hunter and I will be the only ones at risk.”

“And the child,” her mother reminded her.

Kiera raised her chin. “We’re all at risk anyway.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to invite it in!” Conan snapped. The air around him was shimmering, as if he were on the verge of changing into his dog form. Kiera had a feeling that if he did, he might very well bite someone. Her, to be more precise.

“Please try to understand. I can’t just hide in here and do nothing. Not while I know they’re torturing the man I love.” Her voice choked and she swallowed a sob.

Conan’s anger seemed to have dulled to a brooding simmer. “He may be dead already.”

Kiera winced. “If that’s so, then all of this arguing is pointless.” She waited to see if Conan was going to raise another objection, but he stayed quiet. Then she turned to her mom. “Can you create a ward behind the doorway?”

Her mom shook her head. “Not necessary, sweetheart. You’ll need all the help you can get keeping them out.”

“I don’t want you risking yourself. Or even Conan, for that matter.”

But her mom’s expression was implacable. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it together. Period.”

Reluctantly, Kiera conceded. She still didn’t know what she was going to do if and when the goblins delivered Hunter to her doorstep. But if he was still alive, she had to get him out of Faerie as soon as possible, to stop whatever gruesome punishment his mother was inflicting. If that meant she had to improvise a bit later, then so be it.