Secrets (The Forever series, Book 8) (8 page)

“Just a little gift I picked up from my mother's side,” I
say and shrug.

“Well, that is much better. At least you now look like I own
you,” he says.

Own me? I square my shoulders to blast him that no one owns
me when he adds quietly, “This is going to be difficult enough for my wife. I
would ask that you show her some respect and not flaunt these unFae abilities
of yours.”

I close my mouth as I never even thought about him having a
wife, much less caring about her feelings. “Of course.” I clear my throat.

“While we are still down here, can you do something about
your attire? You look like a heathen,” he says.

I pull my face at him. “What is deemed sartorially acceptable?”
I ask, sarcastically.

“A gown for a start. Women here know their place,” he says.

Oh, like that, is it? I take in his own clothes and magick
up something that I assume is Fae approved and he nods at my deep purple gown
which shows off my now, thank the old gods, complete Fae markings, but covers
up the Dragon on my back. “Good choice,” he says as I spin in a sarcastic
circle for him. “The only thing the Faerie hate more than Vampires is Dragons.”

And with that he stalks off in giant strides, which has me
running to keep up.

We don’t speak further as we ascend the million stairs to
the surface. Probably an exaggeration, but bloody hell if it didn’t feel like
it. Who knew you could be so far underground and not have your arse burning off
with the flames of Hellfire?

“I will show you to your room,” he says. “Please stay there.
I don’t want you wandering around causing trouble and getting everyone’s skirts
in a bunch. We will have a proper naming ceremony for you tomorrow where I will
introduce you as my daughter and I will arrange for the Coronation the day
after.”

“Naming ceremony?” I ask as he pushes the door to the
dungeons open and leads me through the extensive kitchens. Why are dungeons
always off kitchens no matter which dimension you go to?

“Yes. You are a Fae Princess and you will have a Fae name,”
he says haughtily.

Oh for fuck's sake, I groan. Another name. Like I don’t have
a gazillion as it is. “Can’t you just pick one from the numerous I already
have?” I ask hopefully.

“Are any of them Fae?” he snaps.

I shrug. “I don’t know, do I?” I snap back.

“Doubtful. Besides, I already have the name you will be
called and there will be no arguments.” He holds his hand up as I open my mouth
to argue. “None, young lady. You will learn respect while you are here.”

“Fine, as long as you respect me, I will respect you,” I
retort.

He glares down at me from his six feet seven inches. I was
right in my assumption that he is the same height as Fraser was. I can see that
he isn’t used to be spoken to in such a manner, but just this side of fleeting,
I see a glimmer of amusement. Good, I can work with that.

“Look, Drake,” I say, pulling myself up to my full five feet
three inches. No way am I calling him “Dad.” “I am the Queen of the
Underworld,” I start, knowing I don’t act much like it most of the time but, “I
hold the same station as you do and I will be treated accordingly.”

He glowers at me. “You are
Princess
of this Court and
I will treat you accordingly to that post.”

“Are you this much of a pain in the arse with your sons?” I
ask him, suddenly getting fed up with his superior attitude.

He lets out a loud guffaw, to his own--never mind
my--astonishment. “If I asked them they wouldn’t tell me…because they have
respect,” he says.

“No balls more like,” I grumble. “You say jump and they
scramble to be the first to say how high. You need me here to give you a
challenge. I stay now because I want to, not because you threaten me. How many
do you have anyway?”

“As delighted as I am that you are taking your duty seriously
now, you will tone down the vulgar language. It isn’t fitting for a lady of the
Court,” he says sternly.

“Whatever,” I say and shrug. “How many?”

“If you are asking how many sons do I have, I have
twenty-seven.”

“Wow, that’s…a lot.” I swallow loudly.

“Indeed. More than we wanted, but when each one came out a
boy, we had to keep trying. We sadly gave up eighteen years ago,” he says with
sorrow.

“Oh,” I say, feeling a bit bad for him and his poor,
unwanted sons.

“But here you are,” he says brightly. “Living proof that I
didn’t fail my people. Only my wife,” he adds quietly.

“You didn’t fail your wife. She failed you,” I say and then
bite my lip as his face goes fierce and he stops walking and steps closer to
me.

“If I ever hear you talk about Maurelle that way again I
will make the beating your sire gave you look like a cut lip,” he threatens.

“All right, keep your pants on. I was trying to make you
feel better. To let you know you didn’t fail. You have a daughter and I will do
my duty by you.” I am shocked to realize that I mean every word. Who knew this
mean, somewhat cruel stranger could invoke a feeling of loyalty in me?

“Yes, well, don’t expect any thanks from me. This is far
from an ideal situation.” He all but punches the poor bedroom door off its hinges
before he shoves me roughly inside. He also steps in and closes the door. “You
are here to wed and bear a child and then you are free to leave, never to
return.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, a bit slow on the uptake.

“Your presence will not be required once the child is born.
Maurelle and I will raise it as our own,” he says.

“Err, I don’t think so, pal,” I say, stepping forward.
“First things, there isn’t going to be a child and second, even if there was,
you would have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.”

“Not a problem,” he says and I gape at him. “The child will
grow up Dark and a true Fae to take over. Neither you, nor the Light, will have
any part in its upbringing.”

“My parental rights aside, I think you will find that any
Light bearing Fae child will have Aelfric beating down your door to get to,” I
say fully confident of my words.

“I’m not concerned about Aelfric,” he says dismissively and
then frowns. “Kalen on the other hand will be more of a problem. One that you
will see doesn’t cause me grief.”

That gives me pause. Sebastian is more of a threat than his
father? How come? What secrets is he still hiding from me? Whatever it is I
will beat it out of him when I kick his arse for betraying me.

“Must we discuss my uselessness now and ruin what has thus
far been such a pleasant afternoon?” I say, changing tactic.

He smiles at me. “You aren’t completely useless, my dear. We
do still need you to create the child. You will be treated well, want for
nothing, looked after and cared for until the baby comes, but then you are
surplus to requirements.”

“What if you actually grow to like me and want me to stick
around?” I say with narrowed eyes. I know he is trying to get to me. I have
witnessed master manipulation at the hands of my sire for a thousand years. If
he thinks he is going to hurt me with his words and turn me into a weeping
little girl begging for Daddy’s approval, he is sorely mistaken.

“Stranger things have happened,” he admits and I see it
again, that small glimmer of amusement. “However, I think that I will send you
packing myself the second you can stand up after giving birth. I can tell you
are going to be a major pain in my ass until that day comes.” He grins at me,
his sharp teeth flashing before he adjusts his features back to their usual
sneer. Oh yeah, I had him pegged. One thing I am good at, well, actually, I am
good at many, many things – no false modesty here, remember – is being able to
get away with defying authority. Men like Drake, like Constantine, and a
hundred other intimidating, smug, arrogant beasts that I have come across over
the years like a challenge. They get bored after centuries of having everyone
falling all over themselves to please them. Along comes the pretty little girl
with the delicate looks and smart mouth and it twists them into knots. Delights
them even. I think I am going enjoy twisting Drake into a big ball of yarn that
my inner kitty can play with. I think he is going to enjoy it even more. For
all of his harsh words, he wants a daughter he can dote on. It isn’t just about
duty to him, no. He has protested too much that this is all it is to him.

“Well, never let it be said that I didn’t make an
impression,” I say, uncrossing my arms.

“Oh, I don’t think anyone can ever say that about you.
Trouble is, your first impression leaves a lot to be desired,” he retorts.

I smirk at him and he turns to leave. “Flat shoes only from
tomorrow, please. You will abide by our dress code.” And he slams the door
shut, but not before I got a peek at the not one, but two, guards stationed outside
my door. He wasn’t kidding about not having me wandering around. Dress code, my
arse, repression more like. I sit on the bed and stare woefully at my
Louboutins before I take them off. Once again I am going to be the shortest
shit at the party. I could make myself taller but I really don’t want to change
myself any more than I have to for him.

I sigh and decide to see just how tall everyone is tomorrow.
Surely they can’t all be Drake’s height, there must be some folk round here
more my size. I flop back to the bed and receive an unwelcome guest.

“Fuck off. Turncoat,” I snarl at Remiel, who positions
himself in a matching pose to mine on the bed, staring the ceiling.

“Language, Alice,” he tuts.

“Stop fucking calling me fucking Alice!” I yell at him.

“Oh my dear girl, our first night together and I think I am
going to have to wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Try it and we will see just how much you like being impaled
on the business end of a sword made from Hellfire,” I snarl at him.

“Your sense of humor is abhorrent.” He sniffs. “You know how
sensitive I am about that thing.”

“Oh poor you,” I say and turn on my side to face him. He
stays on his back. “Tell me something. When you take me, will I just be asleep
the whole time or will I be, you know, wasting away?” I ask him quietly.

He slowly turns his head to look at me. “Oh bless you. You
think I am going to take you for the whole seven days.”

“You aren’t?” I ask surprised.

“Of course not, my dear. I will only take you when you
sleep. I want you healthy and focused, otherwise, yes, you will start wasting
away. It will be slight in your case, you wouldn’t even notice it, but the
process would begin.”

“Oh,” I say, a bit relieved that at least I don’t have to
spend an entire week asleep and with him. Although I do quite like the idea of
sleeping for a whole week. “You feed off me to stay in the dreams?”

“In a manner,” he says shortly.

“When will you start?” I ask.

“When you leave here. You haven’t fed in a while. You are
getting docile,” he admonishes me.

I do feel tired and hungry. Crap. It never even occurred to
me about feeding. Devon and Constantine are right, I really am ridiculous. I
agreed to stay here where there are no humans to feed from, and I can say with
absolute certainty that a Faerie Feeder won’t be provided for me to snack on.
It hits me like a ton of bricks then that this is what Constantine’s plan was
all about. He knew I wouldn’t heal up properly without feeding, and he knew I
wouldn’t be able to do that here. “Thanks for the reminder, ghost boy,” I say
and turn onto my back again.

“Ghost boy? That’s very insulting. I am neither a ghost nor
a boy,” he says, offended.

“How old are you?” I ask.

“In what sense?”

“Both,” I say, knowing he means how old he was when he died
and how many years he has been in existence.

“I was in my twenty-first year when I was slain and that was
over three thousand years ago.”

“How old is Tiamat?” I ask, dying to know Her real age.

“That creature is over six thousand years old,” he replies
with disdain.

“Oh. Wow. That’s like Old Testament old.” CK had said he
thought She was around four thousand. He was way off.

He snorts in amusement but doesn’t say anything.

We sit in silence for a bit then I break it, “How come you
aren’t trying to kill me anymore?”

“How come you aren’t trying to kill me anymore?” he asks me
back.

“Because you aren’t trying to kill me anymore,” I say as if
it’s obvious.

“Oh. Well, your part in the bigger picture is becoming
clearer,” he says mysteriously.

“What is the bigger picture?” I ask. I am not so sure I like
his tone.

“That I can have you in your dreams. I already explained
this to you. I can give you everything you ever wanted out of life, or death.”
He says this with an odd look and I am fairly certain that he is lying to me.

“I already have everything I want,” I say quietly.

“I have been inside your head, Aefre. I know that isn’t
true.” He looks at me again. “Don’t you get it? It isn’t about being with a
certain somebody or having a life with them or a baby or any of the big stuff.
It’s about all the little things I can do for you.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I frown at him.

“Think about it, Aefre. If you could go back in time and
have or do anything you want, big or small, what would it be? And don’t lie to
me because I already know. I just want you to say it out loud,” he says.

“I don’t want to,” I sulk and he laughs at me.

“You don’t have to be shy about it. Just say it. Go back a
thousand years and say what the first thing is that you could do if you could
relive it.”

“Kill Radulf myself for being an abusive, disgusting wife
beater and a rapist,” I shout, suddenly sitting up.

“There you go. Does that feel better? I can give that to
you,” Remiel says and I stare at him.

Actually it does feel better. I sink back to the bed. “But
it won’t be real,” I say sadly.