Drayce stepped out of the bed, and the suspicion in his eyes turned to alarm. “Neara.”
Hope surged through my chest. “Drayce?”
He glanced from side to side. “What is this place? What are we doing here?”
“Step away from the bed.”
Drayce took several steps toward me and placed a hand on my shoulder. He turned around and swept his gaze up the length of the nearest post and along the branches that sprawled across the ceiling. “The last thing I remember was the oak sprite.”
Relief flooded my veins and a surge of emotion flooded my eyes with tears. I slumped against his hard body, enjoying the comforting arm he wrapped around my shoulders. For the first time since the sprite stuck that needle in his heart, I didn’t feel so alone. Through ragged breaths, I explained everything I had learned.
Drayce drew back and cupped my face with both hands. “Don’t blame the sprite.”
“But she—”
“She probably didn’t have any choice.” Compassion shone in his eyes. It was the same understanding I imagined came from losing his father at a tender age and falling prisoner to his stepmother and those who were supposed to be loyal to his royal court. “The Fear Dorcha is a very powerful being with absolute control over the Summer Court.”
“You know him?” I asked.
Drayce shook his head.
“I only know that he’s an associate of Melusina, and he maintains the Summer Court’s accursed darkness.”
“Alright.” I lowered my gaze and tried to process what I had learned. “If Prince Calor and all the high faeries of the Summer Court couldn’t save themselves, what chance do I have to defeat the Fear Dorcha?”
He pressed his lips to my forehead. “We still don’t know the extent of your magic, but the title you hold should attract some powerful supporters.”
“We need to break your curse first.”
I stared into his eyes. As always, they were green, but I couldn’t tell if the richness of their color came from the moonlight or his connection to the bed that had tried to consume him.
Drayce smoothed a strand of my hair behind my ear and placed another kiss on the tip of my nose. “I would rather face the Fear Dorcha with you, but defeating him might be the way to break this curse.”
The implication of his words hit like an anchor, and my heart sank into the depths of panic. I couldn’t face this challenge without Drayce. “There’s a musician called Cliach, who has a harp that can rouse anyone from sleep,” I said. “We just need to find him, and he’ll make you wake.”
“Who gave you that information?” Drayce asked, his brows drawing together into a frown.
I told him about Crom Cruach, who had helped Queen Melusina over the years in exchange for the bodies and souls of her babies. I told him that the golden statue was a form of spirit that needed the souls to retain a corporeal form and how he told me about the harp out of desperation to remain intact.
“He probably thought I wanted the information for free,” I added.
The corner of Drayce’s lip curled into a half-smile. “He made a mistake to think you were anything like Melusina.”
“What do you think about my plan to find the harpist?”
Drayce tilted his head up, seeming to consider my words. “Anyone wielding such a powerful magical artifact won’t help you so easily.” His fingers curled around my shoulder and gripped tight. “Be careful not to promise him something you cannot give or anything you might regret.”
I swallowed hard. “I won’t—”
“Your Majesty?” A frantic voice filled my ears, accompanied by the fingers digging harder into my shoulder and shaking me awake.
I opened my eyes to Rosalind leaning over me with Osmos and Destry standing at her sides. Her violet eyes widened, and the determined expression on her face melted into joy. She drew back and held onto the arms of her companions, each of them sagging with relief.
Behind them, the bed curtains hung open, letting in the warm, orange light of a setting sun.
“What time is it?” I pulled myself off the bed and yawned.
“Two days have passed,” said Osmos. “We have tried every method at our disposal to awaken you to no avail.”
I glanced down at my silk nightgown. “But I was only there for a few hours.”
Destry leaned forward, her green cat eyes imploring me to elaborate. The honey-blonde hair curling around her delicate features look dark compared to the pallor of her skin.
I glanced at Osmos, who stood at Rosalind’s other side with an equally beseeching gaze.
“Where’s that glass Nessa gave me?” I asked.
My secretary disappeared around the curtains and produced the seeing-glass. Its convex surface was a black obsidian, with an opaque frame carved in a curling pattern of elaborate flourishes.
I hummed. “Somehow, this thing transports me to the room where he’s being kept.”
Osmos nodded as he had already heard me explain this to Nessa in the palace kitchen. I told them what I had found the first time I visited Drayce and how the moss covering his skin had been easy to remove at first but then rooted into his flesh on my second visit. They stared at me with wide eyes, transfixed by my description of the trees’ progression from making up a four poster bed to sprawling across the ceiling.
“I think the moss is trying to consume his soul,” I murmured.
“But he’s the god of death.” Rosalind turned to Osmos, as though to confirm this fact.
His brows drew together. “According to what we heard in our cells, King Donn’s power transferred to his son, but has King Drayce taken his throne?”
I gulped, remembering that Drayce told me Queen Melusina had wrenched him from the Otherworld before he could come into his power and hadn’t given him the opportunity to return.
“Will it make a difference?” I asked.
Osmos winced. “Perhaps you should convince Cliach the harpist to help.”
I jolted on the mattress. “You found him?”
His lips thinned. “Aengus rode out with a squadron of guards. Only one of them returned, as the harpist took offense to being summoned.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“He charmed the water wraiths to rise up and drag the guards along with their capall into the depths of the lake.”
“They’re dead?”
“They’ve now fallen into the realm of the Spring Court,” he replied.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Which is submerged in water. I can’t afford to disappear.”
“The only option is to destroy the Fear Dorcha, who could be anywhere,” added Rosalind.
“He’s in the Summer Court.” I swung my legs off of the mattress, hoping Drayce wouldn’t return to that four-poster bed. “King Drayce said the Fear Dorcha was also responsible for cursing them to an eternal sleep.”
“What will you do, Your Majesty?” Osmos asked.
I sat on the edge of the mattress and glanced over my shoulder at Drayce, who hadn’t moved from where we had left him. Perhaps Aengus had been wrong to summon such a powerful musician without offering him something in return.
Drayce was right. I would bargain with him to play the harp. If the harp’s magic broke Drayce’s curse, we would venture into the Summer Court and face the Fear Dorcha.
“Ready a carriage.” I said to Osmos. “I’m taking Drayce to the harpist.”
Chapter 8
We stepped out into a moonstone courtyard, where a white carriage awaited that stood on a curved frame of solid gold held up by huge, white wheels with golden spokes. Its dark windows glinted in the light of the setting sun like polished jet and reflected some of the twelve-inch, gold statues of faeries standing on its roof. On each corner of the vehicle, four golden lamps shone as bright as the sun.
Even the quartet of winged capall tethered to the carriage wore bridles of gold. They were all flesh-and-blood beasts, with no sign of Drayce’s skeletal mount.
Trepidati
on rippled through my insides. I glanced at Osmos, who stood on my left. “Isn’t this a little conspicuous?”
“Cliach said if the queen wants him, she can come herself,” said Aengus from behind. “Nobody but the Queen of the Faeries would ride a carriage like that.”
I stared down at my leather armor and gulped. The only alternative to seeking out this harpist was venturing into the Summer Court, where the Fear Dorcha was probably waiting to put me under a sleep enchantment.
“Alright,” I whispered into the wind. “Let’s go.”
Osmos walked across the moonstone courtyard, his footsteps clinking like the clop of a newly shoed horse. I dropped my gaze to his silver breeches to find that he had hooves instead of feet.
Rosalind walked on my right. “Queen Pressyne often enchanted her ladies-in-waiting to attend to matters on her behalf. Would you like me to take your place and meet Cliach?”
I shook my head. “If this harpist has the power to awaken Prince Drayce, I need to be there to negotiate with him.”
She inclined her head.
Osmos opened the door and stepped aside. “I will manage the Royal Court in your absence, Your Majesty. Will you give me the discretion to rehouse the remaining humans?”
I paused at the door. “We need to treat them as guests until we can work out how to resettle them.”
His lips pursed with disapproval, but the movement was so quick that I might have imagined it. “Very well, Your Majesty.”
“Just make sure they’re comfortable, well-fed, and aren’t harassed by the faeries.”
Osmos inclined his head. “It shall be done.”
I stepped into the carriage’s interior and inhaled lungfuls of wood polish mingled with the scent of jasmine tea. Two doors stood on the left and right of its narrow, walnut wood interior, giving me the impression that it was larger on the inside than it appeared.
“His Majesty awaits you in the royal suite,” said Osmos from behind. “Please take the door on the left.”
The royal suite consisted of wooden walls illuminated by wall lights and was wide enough to fit a bed for two at its far left, where Drayce lay beneath a silk sheet, his head resting on a matching cushion. The lamps at his bedside glowed with dim light that warmed his dark skin.
A half-wall provided a division between the small bedroom space and a parlor area of an ivory sofa decorated by gold-embroidered cushions. Beneath the window opposite was a wooden table that seated two, already laden with a single covered dish.
I walked past the meal and sat on the edge of the bed and clutched the seeing-glass.
Osmos followed after me and lifted the dome off my plate, revealing a meal of roasted pigeon in a red wine sauce, served on a bed of string beans and wild rice. “Would you like Destry to keep you company?”
I shook my head and smiled. “Rosalind and Aengus are enough.”
He bowed and stepped out of the royal suite, pausing to allow Rosalind and Aengus to enter the front section of the coach.
By the time the capall launched themselves off the mountain’s ledge, the sun had completely set, leaving only the barest trace of light behind the distant hills. I rose from the edge of the bed, sat at the cushioned dining chair, and leaned my head against the window. The forest of pine beneath us stretched out for miles, only their sharp tips glowing a vibrant green.
In the carriage’s safe-box, we carried gold, jewels, an array of priceless instruments that we thought might appeal to the harpist when I approached him to play for Drayce.
Outside, to our left and right, dozens of soldiers in shimmering silver rode alongside us on winged horses, whose wispy manes danced and shimmered in the twilight breeze. I turned back to Drayce, who lay unmoving beneath a blanket of silk.
According to Aengus’ report, Cliach had situated himself in a lake on the far west of Bresail, within the border of the Spring Court and the realm of the Free Folk. The fastest route was over the Summer Court, which we needed to avoid because it was now controlled by the Fear Dorcha.
I blew out a breath of frustration that fogged against the window. We couldn’t afford a confrontation with a powerful creature allied with Queen Melusina who had already made one attempt to put me under a curse. Instead of the direct route, we would travel along the border of the Autumn and Summer Courts, and traverse the wide river that divided the Autumn and Spring Courts before we could reach our destination.
The carriage veered right, and the seeing-glass clinked on the side of my untouched plate. I stared into its polished surface for signs of Drayce, signs of those silver eyes, even signs if my own, but met the reflection of the overhead lantern above us, which rocked from side to side with the movement of our carriage.
“Show me Drayce,” I whispered into its surface.
My reflection stared back. I looked much the same as I did when I was human and in Calafort, except my ears were pointed, and my carrot-colored hair now shone with an otherworldly glimmer. If I crossed the mountains on the east and returned to the human realm, would they even be able to see me?
I thought about Father, whose ship would have crossed the Sea of Atlas and reached Caledonia by now. Would he take another ship to Hibern or travel down to Britannia?
A knock resounded on the door. “Your Majesty?” asked Rosalind. “Are you awake?”
“Come in,” I said.
Rosalind opened the door and poked her head through the gap. “Osmos ordered me to make sure you ate and were well rested for confronting the harpist.”
“Would you like to come inside?”
Relief softened her hard features, making me wonder if she was already tired of sitting in the front with Aengus. She stepped inside, her gaze landing at the bed on the far side of the suite. “Have you spoken to His Majesty again?”
My features twisted into a grimace. “The glass isn’t responding.” I gestured for her to sit on the seat opposite. “Maybe I’ve used up all the magic.”
Rosalind lowered herself in the other dining chair and held out a palm. “May I?”
I handed her the glass.
She closed her eyes, and the skin-colored membranes of her black-tipped wings glowed violet, along with a pale streak in the front of her hair. Violet magic pulsed through her fingers, making my breath catch.
Nimfeach aer.
These were maidens whose beauty could drive a human to madness. Unlike leannán sídhe, who fed on their human lovers in exchange for artistic inspiration, the nimfeach aer gained their power from the air and used it to serve the high fae. They seldom ventured into the human realm for fear of being held captive. According to the Book of Brigid, they were exceptionally loyal.
“Its magic is depleted.” She set the glass down on the table. “You haven’t eaten for days, Your Majesty. Cliach is a powerful faerie, and you’ll need your wits for tomorrow.”
“You’re right.” I picked up my fork and broke off a piece of pigeon that melted off the bone. Now that I had worked out Rosalind’s exact species of faerie, I could relax, knowing that her intentions toward me were benevolent.
After dinner, I let the rocking of the carriage lull me into a dreamless sleep, where my entire being floated on a cushion of nothingness for hours. All the tension drifted into the ether, and I was no longer the Queen of the Faeries clinging onto a tenuous throne. I was no longer the daughter of a monster, the poisoner of soldiers, the murderer of Drayce. But these feelings skulked back the moment the first rays of sunlight touched my eyelids.
At sunset the next day, Rosalind awoke me to say we were approaching the lake. I pulled away from the warmth of Drayce’s unmoving body, dressed, and ate at the dining table.
The sun hung low in an artichoke-green sky that illuminated a burst of dandelion yellow through the distant clouds. Our coach hovered above a giant lake of thick, green water, with gentle ripples that picked up the barest hint of light. Up ahead stood a four-story round tower of stone bricks covered in a rich, green moss that reminded me of Drayce’s curse.
>
A red-haired female stood at the tower’s arched window, her hair glowing the color of freshly spilled blood in the light of a lantern standing on its sill. She wore a white gown and rested her chin on her hands to stare down at something in the water.
I cast my gaze down to find a network of giant lily pads arranged around a bed of crimson and white water lilies in full bloom. A male dressed in clothes the same shade of vibrant green as the lily pads rose from where he lay on one of their surfaces and raised a golden harp.
My heart leaped, and I sucked in a deep breath to contain my excitement. This had to be Cliach, the male who held the power to awaken Drayce from his cursed sleep.
As a melodic tune drifted through the carriage windows, the pad on which Cliach stood rose through the air, its weight supported by a swirl of water that lengthened until the harpist was level with the female in the window.
I slumped back into my seat, trying not to let my heart sink. This was also the same male who had commanded the water to drag a group of soldiers into the depths of the Spring Court.
I turned back to Drayce and ran my fingers down the side of his cheek. “Keep fighting the moss. I’ll free you soon.”
“Your Majesty,” Aengus said from behind the door. “What are your orders?”
My teeth worried at my bottom lip, and I tucked a lock of Drayce’s indigo-black hair behind his pointed ear. Sending emissaries to the harpist wouldn’t work.
“I will approach him alone.” I placed a kiss on his soft lips, walked across the suite, and opened the door.
Rosalind and Aengus stood side-by-side in the narrow hallway that separated our suites. Rosalind changed into black, leather armor that matched both her wings and my long-skirted armor, while Aengus still wore the same white tunic from before except with a red cape that brought out the red in his golden curls.
“At least allow me to fly you down to negotiate,” said Rosalind.
Mate of the Fae King (Dark Faerie Court Book 2) Page 7
