The Seven Year King (The Faerie Ring #3) (3 page)

E
motions Tiki had tried to keep at bay since leaving Westminster Abbey an hour ago, churned in her chest at Larkin’s words. It was true—
Cloch na Teamhrach
—the Stone of Tara—had roared at her touch, proving she was the heir of Finn MacLochlan and the true high queen of the Seelie Court. Yet, she knew little of the mysterious Otherworld or the strange and often frightening creatures who inhabited Faerie. She’d spent her entire life living in London, believing herself to be an orphan after her parents had died of the fever several years ago—believing herself to be mortal. How could she possible go claim a
throne
in a world so alien and unfamiliar?

“Today is still May first—Beltane,” Larkin said, “the day control of Faerie shifts from the Winter court of the UnSeelies to the Summer Court of the Seelies. You
must
return to the Otherworld and claim the throne from Donegal before the day ends.”

Rieker stepped toward Larkin, lines of concern etched around his eyes. Dark strands of hair swept across his forehead given him a windblown and slightly dangerous look. “Did Bearach speak the truth? Have you confirmed that Dain has been captured by the UnSeelies?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, William—” Larkin’s voice was dry—“faeries don’t lie. We may twist the truth to amuse ourselves, but an outright lie results in, shall we say, ‘undesirable’ consequences.” She braced a hand against the back of a chair, her long, delicate fingers splayed over the brown leather. “There is no question that Dain was found out as a spy in the UnSeelie Court, but there are more important matters to which we must tend before we worry about Dain.”

“Maybe more important for you, perhaps,” Rieker snapped, “but not for me.” He towered over the faerie’s slight frame, his expression as angry as a thunderstorm. “In case
you’ve
forgotten, Donegal is not only holding my
brother
—the only living relative I’ve left—but he’s also sentenced him to
death
.” Rieker’s eyes narrowed to dark slits. “It doesn’t get more important than that.”

Larkin’s mood changed in an instant. Her lips curled in a snarl and she snapped her teeth as if she might bite. “William, insolence does not become you.” She pointed a finger at him. “I warn you—do not test me today or I’ll turn your hair into the feathers of a raven and your handsome nose into a beak to match.” She swept her hand through the air and black feathers floated to the floor. “Then we’ll see if saving Dain is your highest priority.”

“Your threats don’t scare me, Larkin,” Rieker growled. “I don’t think you want Dain held by Donegal any more than I do—” he took a step closer—“you just can’t admit that you might care about someone other than yourself.”

Larkin barked out a short laugh. “Sentiments are for mortals and fools.” Her nose curled in a sneer. “We don’t yet know where Donegal is holding Dain.”

“How do we find out?”

“Focus on your intellect, William, rather than your emotions. Only the cleverest survive in the world of Faerie. You’re going to need every inch of your wits to save your brother,” she paused for a heartbeat, “and perhaps, yourself.”

Rieker’s expression darkened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Larkin.” Tiki interrupted them. “What is it we need to do?” Her stomach gave a nervous twist at the thought of returning to the Otherworld. Against her will she imagined the shadowy, smoky grandeur of the Palace of Mirrors—the place where the ruler of Faerie lived. The Palace was filled with enchanted mirrors that reflected one’s true form—to stop anyone from entering court in a glamour with the intent of harming the king or queen.

A place of dark opulence, the macabre ceiling of the Great Hall depicted various members of the UnSeelie court in scenes of unspeakable horror, images that were etched forever in Tiki’s mind. Donegal, the Winter King, prided himself on the chaos he’d created and the lives he’d claimed. He even went as far as to hang the wings of his conquered opponents on his walls as trophies of his kills.

“The
Cloch na Teamhrach
has spoken for all in Faerie to hear. Now is the time to claim the Seelie throne and restore the rightful order of things in our world.” Larkin’s tone was emphatic. “We’ve been waiting a very long time for this day—we cannot delay.”

Behind her back, Tiki tightened her fingers into fists until the pressure of her nails bit into the soft flesh of her hands. The prospect of facing Donegal again was daunting, but she knew she didn’t have a choice. The killing had to stop. Donegal not only threatened the political stability of the Otherworld, but also that of England.

“Fine. Tell me what I need to do.” As Tiki spoke, her promise to Clara resonated uncomfortably in her ears. She was needed in both London and the Otherworld—how could she be two places at once?

A loud sniff sounded from the doorway. “You’ve found Johnny?” The hope in Fiona’s voice was unmistakable.

Tiki bit her lip to hold back her cry of dismay at the sight of the fifteen year-old girl. Fiona’s eyes were red-rimmed and almost swollen shut, her face blotchy from crying. Her dark hair, normally full of waves, was unwashed and flat against her head. For a second, Tiki was reminded of an old woman, worn and aged as hope had left her. She hurried to the girl’s side.

“He’s alive, Fi.” She slid an arm around Fiona’s slender shoulders. “Larkin helped save him.”

Fiona clutched at Tiki’s arm, her eyes lighting up. “You’ve seen him?”

“Well, no…” Tiki hesitated, “not exactly… but…”

“He’s alive,” Larkin said, “though it’s not clear for how long.” The faerie surveyed Fiona through heavy lids. “The
liche
left his mark and your friend is a mortal after all….” She raised her eyebrows. “What else would you expect?”

Fiona stepped toward the faerie, fearless in her concern for the injured young pickpocket. She threaded her fingers together so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Where is he? Can I go help care for him?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Larkin’s face. “I don’t think you want to go where your young man is now.”

Fiona jerked toward Tiki for an explanation. “Where—?”

“He’s in the Otherworld, Fi,” Tiki said gently. “When the
liche
ran from Hyde Park he took Johnny to the Otherworld. Larkin and others were able to save Johnny, but he’s still there—” Tiki’s voice got softer— “too ill to return to London.”

The color drained from Fiona’s face and panic flickered in her eyes. “What are you saying?” she whispered.

“He’s dying,” Larkin said flatly. “There’s only one thing that might save an injured mortal in Faerie and it’s nothing you could ever get your hands on.”

Fiona and Tiki spoke at the same time. “What is it?”

“It’s not worth my breath to explain it to you.” A look of impatience tightened Larkin’s jaw. “Tara, we are wasting our time here. We need to go
now
.”

“Larkin.” Rieker’s voice held a warning.

“Tell me what can save Johnny and I’ll go,” Tiki said.

Larkin propped her hands on her slim hips, a look of disgust on her face. “Fine. There is a magical vessel known as the Cup of Plenty—one of the legendary Four Treasures of Faerie. The Cup is said to hold the four essences of life, one of which is healing. Legend says that drinking from the cup will heal any ills.” Her nose curled in a sneer. “Perhaps it will even cure those of a mortal.”

Fiona put her hands to her mouth and turned toward Tiki with wide eyes. “We can save him, Teek.”

“No, you can’t.” Larkin flicked a long strand of hair over her shoulder and raised her chin in an imperious gesture. “Don’t waste your time trying.”

“Why not?” Tiki asked. “Tell us where the cup is located and we’ll go get it ourselves and bring it back to Johnny.”

Rieker’s arms were crossed over his chest and his jaw was set. “Remember, you want something from Tiki, Larkin. It’s only fair you give her something in return.”

Larkin glared at Rieker before she turned back to Tiki. “You won’t be able to find the cup to help your thief friend because the cup is inaccessible.” Her voice grew stern. “Leave it alone.”

“What do you mean ‘inaccessible’?” Tiki’s brows pulled down in a frown.

“The goblins have it.” Larkin snapped. She raked Tiki up and down with a scathing look. “And they won’t give it up—not even to the Queen of the Seelie Court.”

“The goblins…” Tiki repeated faintly, giving Rieker a distressed look. She’d heard how vicious the goblins could be.

“I must insist that we go
now
.” Larkin strode toward Tiki. “It’s time for you to learn to travel through the gates on your own. Ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath, “a
queen
who doesn’t know how to transport.”

“Queen?” Fiona repeated, looking at Tiki with a confused expression. “What is she talking about, Teek?”

“Nothing,” Tiki said. “I have to help Larkin with a small matter right now, Fi and—”

“But what about Johnny?” Fiona wrung her hands together. “He’s hurt. He needs us!”

“As soon as I get back, we’ll talk more about how to help Johnny.” Tiki rubbed Fiona’s arm. “Can you look after Toots and Clara while I’m gone?”

Fiona jerked her arm away. “I always do, don’t I?” The bitterness in her tone was unmistakable. “How long will you be gone
this
time?”

Guilt churned in Tiki’s stomach. There was an accusation in Fiona’s words that Tiki didn’t want to acknowledge. “Not long,” she said, “I promise.”

Fiona’s eyes filled with tears again. “It’s not only Johnny.” Her voice broke. “Clara needs you, too.”

“I know.” Tiki bit her lip. “It’s just—”

“Clara will be fine,” Larkin interjected, putting her hand under Tiki’s elbow and drawing her away from Fiona. “The child is adaptable.”

Fiona jerked toward the door, a loud sob ripping from her chest. Tiki started to follow but Rieker put an arm out and stopped her. “Let her go, Teek.” He pulled Tiki close. “Words aren’t going to help Fi right now. Best to get on with what needs to be done.” He pressed his lips to Tiki’s temple. “After that, we can focus on how to help Johnny and Dain,” he said softly.

Tiki sagged against Rieker’s hard chest. He was right, of course. The Seelie Court had been at war with the UnSeelies for centuries. Losses had been great on both sides, but the last few years, Donegal, the Winter King, had turned the tide in a very deadly manner—against the Seelies. Finding the
Cloch na Teamhrach
was the first step in returning the Summer Court to power and reducing the threat to the British royals, as well as to the safety of England.

Tiki’s heart tripped in her chest as a sense of responsibility settled on her shoulders like a weighty mantle. An image of the little man who had spoken at Westminster Abbey when the stone had roared filled Tiki’s head.
‘Donegal’s killed our loved ones, our families.
He’s taken our homes and possessions. Enslaved some of us. We don’t want peace,’
he had said. ‘
We want revenge. This is war.’

Tiki took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. The Stone of Tara had roared—she was the rightful Queen of the Seelie Court. Now she needed to claim her throne.

Chapter Four

D
ain stood among the shadows of the Great Hall, his hands shackled with iron, a rope cinched so tightly around his neck it was an effort to swallow. Pain radiated from his face and so many parts of his body from the beatings he’d received it was as though he’d been lit on fire. A guard stood nearby, his razor-sharp spear aimed at Dain’s back, waiting to pierce his heart if he made a threatening move.

Before him, Donegal, the Winter King, sat on the golden Dragon Throne. The king watched the raucous celebration being played out among the UnSeelie Court with a furrowed brow and clenched jaw. Today was Beltane, the day the UnSeelies were obligated to return control of Faerie to the Seelies for the next six months. Donegal had murdered the previous Seelie king, O’Riagáin, and had planned to claim the Seelie throne as his own, in an attempt to rule all of Faerie—but the unexpected arrival of a new Seelie queen, confirmed by the cry of the
Cloch na Teamhrach
, had thwarted his plan. Now he was forced to concede the throne to the new queen today.

Dain closed his swollen eyes and an image of the Seelie queen filled his head. Tara MacLochlan. An emotion he was afraid to name warmed his chest.