The Glass Scepter

by Bekah Harris

  They were well within the reach of the Laltogs and Brags, but for some reason, the darklings didn’t attack.

  Which meant they weren’t there for the Summer royals…They had a different target.

  He exchanged a brief, knowing look with Ardan before sprinting after Lyric, Ivy, and Juliet.

  “It has to be Teagan,” Ardan yelled. “They’re here for Lyric and Ivy.”

  Which meant sending Juliet with them had made her a target..if she wasn’t one herself.

  Adrenaline pushed him faster, as Ivy helped Juliet up the icy stairs. A Laltog swooped down at them, just missing them with his hooked talons as Ivy wrapped her arms around Jules and jumped, blasting the creature with a bright blue surge of icy wind. Then, they were gone, out of sight behind the high stone wall. Lyric was right behind them, jumping from the last step, her blue gown billowing out around her like a parachute.

  Beside them, Lochlan twisted his arm, a dozen razor-sharp icicles forming above his hand. He pushed outward, sending them sailing into the air. Three Laltogs fell to the ground with heavy thuds.

  “It’s melting,” Ardan yelled, pointing at Ivy’s staircase. “We have to hurry.”

  His brother shot his own icy blast in an effort to re-freeze Ivy’s staircase. Finally close enough, Padraic took the stairs two at a time, tucking into a roll as his feet hit the ground hard. He rolled to his feet just in time to see the blue folds of Queen Lyric’s dress tear on the branches of a massive rosebush as she disappeared around the corner. Still, the Laltogs circled above them.

  Without stopping to check on Ardan or Lochlan, Padraic raced forward, rounding the rosebush after the queen. If he lost Juliet, he would never forgive himself for bringing her here. For exposing her as a mortal to the dangers of the Faerie world. Ivy would protect her, he kept telling himself. If the worst happened, and they were taken, Ivy would never allow anything bad to happen to her best friend. He kept repeating the words inside his mind as he urged his legs forward, his pulse throbbing in his ears.

  Rounding a corner, he leaped over the short stone wall that separated the Summer rose gardens from the forest. The portal to Winter was close. Maybe Ivy and Juliet had already made it. There was no sign of Lyric, which meant they were far ahead of Padriac. Behind him, he could hear the heavy footfalls of his brother and Lochlan. In the distance, he could hear the rushing water of the falls. The portal was only a few yards away from the creek. Pushing himself faster, he leaped from the steep, moss-covered rocks of the falls, not bothering with the trail. He landed with a heavy thud on the bank of the creek. But as he raced into the forest, he skidded to a stop.

  Right in front of him, a Laltog looked up from the limp body he held. As he turned, his mouth and flat nose were covered in blood, as was the smoky purple dress of its victim. When he saw Padraic watching, he smiled and held up Juliet’s’ limp body, drained of blood. Her eyes stared lifelessly into the cloudless sky above, the delicate flesh of her neck ripped apart in a bloody mess.

  All the breath left Padraic’s body.

  Dropping the dagger he held, he fell to his knees. The world tilted. The Laltog’s maniacal laughter echoed in his ears, the image of Juliet’s body swimming before him as his eyes filled with tears. Just as a sob tore through him, Ardan sailed past him, sprinting through the trees, a dark blue ribbon of icy magic rippling out in front of him.

  Suddenly, the image of Juliet’s broken body disappeared.

  The shadowy form of the Brag took its place as Ardan’s magic shredded its body.

  A heavy hand came down on Padraic’s shoulder. Then, Lochlan hefted him up to his feet. He was talking to him, but Padraic couldn’t hear what he was saying. Finally, as Ardan walked back toward him and the Brag’s fiery red eyes dimmed like extinguished embers in his death, his brain made sense of the scene before him.

  “It was a Brag,” Ardan whispered. “It was only a Brag.”

  “Whatever you saw was your worst fear,” Lochlan said, still holding him up.

  Shaking, Padraic took a deep breath and allowed momentary relief to wash over him. He must have met the Brag’s eyes before his mind even registered it was there. Juliet was fine. Juliet was alive. But Laltogs still flapped their leathery wings above the trees.

  “Go,” Lochlan urged them. “Get them to safety, and I’ll fight off the Laltogs here.”

  With a nod and an urgent breath, Padraic sprinted after Ardan, winding through the thick trees as they drew closer and closer to the portal.

  As they topped a large wooded hill, Padraic spotted Juliet, Ivy, and Lyric below. They were only feet from the portal. Just as the parted Hawthorn trees shimmered with bright magic, a Laltog careened from the sky like a meteor, headed straight for the Winter Queen. Before Padraic or Ardan could gather their magic, the creature knocked Lyric from her feet. Just as Ivy turned, blasting the creature from her mother, two Laltogs swooped from the sky wrapping Ivy and Juliet both in their leathery wings. Juliet’s screams pierced through the silence and echoed in Padraic’s ears.

  He blinked again and again.

  But as Ardan slid through the grass, applying pressure to the gaping hole in Queen Lyric’s throat, there was no Brag to blame for the real horror before him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You have been good to your word, Milady.”

  Fhaescratch smiled, showing off his fangs, and bowed slightly, mockingly, at Teagan. He had shifted from bat-like creature to his more human form when he saw her step through the mouth of the cave.

  Rage, pure and unadulterated, surged through her veins at the mockery, but she felt her lips curl into a smile.

  It was a skill her mother had drilled into her since she was barely old enough to walk: how to smile in the face of her enemies, allied or not.

  “Yes, I hear Odhran’s blood was just the trick your armies needed to attack in the daylight of Summer.”

  To her surprise, Teagan stumbled a bit as she said Odhran’s name. For many years, he had been a sort of father figure to her, and she hadn’t wanted him to die. But what were men good for, if not to be used for pleasure or pawns? Her mother had taught her that, too. She had done what she had to in order to carry forth her mother’s intricate plan to take down the Seelie Realm. She would have to write Odhran off as collateral damage, as the humans said, and move on.

  Fhaescratch, moving more quickly than she could detect, was now behind her. She could feel the heat of his breath on her neck. She swallowed hard, pushing down her fear, as he moved her hair over her left shoulder.

  “Now, I will collect the rest of my payment,” he whispered in her ear.

  A shiver ran through her. Whether it was fear or lust, she couldn’t be certain. “You shall be paid in full once I see the Winter Heir and her human lackey suffer at your hands.”

  Both of his hands came down on her shoulders, drumming his long, bony fingers over her collarbone. His touch was cold as Winter’s chill and bit into her skin through the fabric of her clothes. “You may be your father’s daughter, but you are not the deal-maker your father was.”

  The reference to her father, King Torin, sent the blood rising to her brain.

  Reaching for the small dagger at her thigh, she turned quickly, causing him to loosen his grip on her, and held its point to the skin just over his heart.

  “Carved from the white oaks that grow in Spring,” she whispered. “Tell me, are all the legends true?”

  Hissing, Fhaescratch bared his teeth, his fangs elongating with her threat. His glowing yellow eyes darkened to a hellish orange with his rage. Then, he grabbed the stake, which caught fire in his palm. He closed his fist over it, reducing it to ash. When he opened his hand, it floated like dark snow to the rocky floor of the cave.

  A thrilling fear she hadn’t experienced in her life rose within her, but somehow, she was more fascinated than afraid. Still, she took a few steps back, distancing herself from his wrath.

  “Unfortunately for you, I have no heart,” he said. His voice was
a low grumble. “And I do not take kindly to empty threats from a Seelie Princess, even one exiled by her own realm.”

  Before Teagan saw him move, he was on her again, so close the cold of his body seeped through her clothes. She shivered, but it wasn’t from the rush of frigid air. It was him, the Laltog King himself, his power and darkness filling her with desire. She leaned closer, as he brought his lips close to her ear.

  “The deal we made was that I provide an army in exchange for royal blood and the human consort to the Unseelie King. You have delivered the first, and the second is on its way. If you want more soldiers for your destruction of the Seelie Realm, then I will take the rest of my payment in blood.”

  Teagan backed away until the wall of the cave stopped her. Again, the Laltog King grasped her shoulders. Her chest tightened, her breaths coming in short gasps.

  “Shall I turn you around, or do you enjoy watching as others eat?” he asked.

  When she didn’t protest, he turned her away from him, pushed her hair away from her neck, and buried his fangs in her throat.

  Pain like a thousand needle pricks surged through her, just before a wave of intense euphoria replaced it, turning her limp in his grasp. The time before, he had taken blood from her wrist, but this time, the drug-like feeling was more intense, making her resolve soften toward him, as if she were bound to him. Claimed by him.

  It was that thought that sobered her.

  The feeling returned to her limp knees and she straightened her spine, pushing against him. “Enough,” she said. “You have collected your payment.”

  She could feel Fhaescratch laugh as he continued to drink. She resisted, which sent another surge of pain rippling through her, but she didn’t relent. With another laugh, he retracted his fangs and stepped away, wiping his mouth with the cold flesh of his thumb and licking it.

  “I offer you the services of my army,” he said quietly. “You will grant our freedom if you succeed. But know this. I have tasted your sweet blood. That means I will always know where you are. I will always know just where to find you.”

  So that’s what the blood exchange was about. Teagan disguised a shaky breath, as she wiped the remaining blood from her throat, her fingers dipping into the two puncture marks, which throbbed painfully where the cold air hit the open wound. She straightened her spine and looked him in the eye, now burning yellow in the dark once more. She raised her chin.

  “I will return in a few hours to see our prisoners,” she snapped.

  Fhaescratch clapped his hands together, laughing from deep in his chest. “I do admire your fire,” he said, “but I can smell the acrid stench of your fear.”

  Shuddering despite her best efforts, Teagan turned back toward the passages that would lead her back to the underbelly of the Unseelie Castle.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ivy had tried to blast the Laltogs with Winter magic, but there were too many of them. She was tired and hungry from the effort, and she would have to regain her strength before making anymore attempts. Jules had lost a lot of blood. The Laltog that captured her must have clipped her with his talons or teeth as he carried her through the sky. Now in their more human forms, they walked through the dark caverns far beneath the Unseelie Castle. Jules hung limply as the Laltog cradled her like a ragdoll in his arms. Traveling through the portals always exhausted Jules, as it would any human, but coupled with blood loss, Ivy would be lying if she told herself the situation wasn’t dire.

  And what had happened to her mother?

  Her heart thrashed wildly in her chest. She tried to swallow back the panic, but her mouth was too dry.

  Ivy had managed to blast the Laltog away from Lyric, but not before it had sunk its teeth into her. As she was swept into the air, Ivy saw Ardan, Padraic, and Lochlan rushing to her mother’s side. Ardan’s eyes had been upon her, though, burning into hers with promise. Ardan and Padraic were both Unseelie royals. They would know exactly where to find the Laltogs. But first, they would do everything in their power to save Lyric. Winter couldn’t be without both a Queen and an heir.

  No. Lyric will recover. She has to.

  They slowed their pace as they stepped into the wide opening of a rocky chamber, which was dimly lit with torches that lined the cavern walls. Laltogs, Ivy noted, didn’t need light to see, so she could only conclude the torches were for her benefit. They wanted her to see them. They wanted her to be afraid. She paused, searching for some way out other than the way they had entered.

  The creature behind her, a female, urged her forward. Ivy stumbled, her dress tearing as her knees hit the rocky ground beneath her. Pain tore through her leg, traveling all the way up her spine. Gritting her teeth, she scrambled to her feet, refusing to be bullied. She whirled around, the ends of her fingers sharpening to icicles and drew back, ready to strike. The female bared its teeth and hissed, its two sharp fangs glinting like steel in the flickering light.

  “Now, Eavan, is that anyway to treat a guest? And a royal one at that?”

  The voice behind her was deep and gravelly, but there was no denying the mockery in its tone. Ivy turned on her heel, but the voice came from an area of darkness several feet in front of her, where Ivy couldn’t make out shadows or bodies at all.

  “Apologies, your majesty,” the creature said.

  Gradually, she detected two blowing orbs of yellow light. As they drifted closer, Ivy realized they were eyes. Finally, the creature stepped into the flickering light.

  Was this their king?

  With a crooked smile, he swept into a deep bow, the exaggerated movement more an insult than a gesture of respect.

  Behind her, though, the other creatures bowed before him. Narrowing her eyes, Ivy stood firm.

  “Under the circumstances, I can see why you might be hesitant to bow,” he said. “Allow me first to introduce myself.”

  Ivy braced herself, but as he stepped forward, he looked human. If not for his glowing irises, she never would have thought otherwise.

  “I am Fhaescratch, King of the Laltogs and all dark creatures of the Unseelie mines,” he said. “Welcome to my home.”

  Ivy didn’t respond. She didn’t even know where to start.

  “Perhaps some brighter light will make you more talkative.”

  As if out of thin air, a ball of light appeared between his hands, and with a strange blowing sound like whistling wind, the dim torches that lined the cave walls erupted into flame, illuminating the cavern. She blinked rapidly until her eyes adjusted to the light. Once her vision had cleared, she took in the largest cave she had ever seen. Jewels of all varieties and colors sparkled form the dark walls of the cave, which smelled damp and cold. In front of her, the Laltog King, Fhaescratch, flashed a smile that showcased two dangerously lethal fangs. If not for his terrifying mouth, she might have considered him handsome. His skin was pale as death, but his hair was a beautiful raven black and hung well past his shoulders. Shirtless, he was lean but well-defined, the muscles of his abdomen disappearing beneath the waist of his torn and faded pants. He wore no shoes, and his bare feet were filthy.

  “What do you want from us?” Ivy asked. “You shall be paid handsomely for our return.”

  “Look around you, Your Highness,” he said, indicating the glimmering jewels. “What could you give me that I don’t already have?”

  “What would you like?” Ivy asked. She tried to remain calm, though she forced her trembling hands into fists at her sides.

  “That’s a very dangerous question, Princess,” Fhaescratch said.

  He circled her, his eyes scanning her up and down, lingering on the torn portions of her dress. The more he circled, the closer he came until he was only a breath away from her. Tall and lean, he towered over her, but bent down, barely grazing the skin of her throat with his nose. When he pulled away, he licked his lips, running his tongue along his protruding fangs. His yellow eyes glowed a fiery orange—with hunger, Ivy suspected.

  “Your scent is...mouthwatering,” he whi
spered, his breath hot in her ear. Fighting off the urge to shudder, Ivy straightened, looking him fiercely in the eyes, trying her best not to be afraid. Smiling, he brought a sharp fingernail to the skin just behind her ear, lightly tracing her neck. His touched lingered at her collarbone before he stepped away from her.

  “My loyal creatures have lived in darkness for five hundred years,” he said. “Your Seelie Queen banished us here just after the Unseelie Fae rebelled against Queen Endellion. What I want is far more valuable than blood or treasure. What I want, what all the dark creatures want, from the lowliest Brag to the most powerful Laltog, is freedom. Freedom to roam Faerie as we please, just as we had always done before Queen Endellion banished us from Seelie.”

  “I am happy to negotiate your terms with the Seelie Queen,” Ivy said. Her knees felt like Jell-O, and her stomach rolled. She needed to get Jules back to the safety of the Unseelie castle, where she could heal her wounds.

  “I do not plan on negotiating,” Fhaescratch said. “I plan to destroy the Seelie Realm forever and rule the entire Faerie World. No more separate courts or realms. We will unite as one—under my rule, of course.”

  “And what about Teagan?” Ivy asked. “I’m sure there is something in this for her, or she wouldn’t have solicited your help at all.”

  “You are quite perceptive,” he said. “Teagan negotiated her terms, but she wasn’t specific enough. She will rise. But before long, she will fall, like her mother. In exchange, she has granted me access to powerful royal blood. Not to mention the blood of my first human.”