by Bekah Harris
“Better?” Ivy asked.
Jules frowned. “Where’d your medical degree come from? The butcher shop?”
Ivy smiled in reply. Jules was already more herself, cursing under her breath as she angrily rubbed her wrist. Ivy had just leaned back against the rocky wall to rest when she heard footsteps in the distance. They grew closer every second.
“Who is it?” Jules whispered.
Ivy shook her head as Jules held the moonstone toward the iron bars.
King Fhaescratch stood in front of the door, holding a gold key. “Do forgive me for disturbing you, but I’m afraid the appointed hour has arrived. I find that I am desperately hungry.”
He stepped toward Jules, but Ivy scooted in front of her. “Take me,” she said. “I’ve just used my magic to heal her, so my blood will be sweet with Winter power.”
A smile spread across his lips. “Quite right,” he whispered. “Eve’s daughter shall be my final course.”
He reached out toward Ivy.
“No,” Jules hissed. “No, Ivy, don’t do this. Take me.”
“Patience, human,” Fhaescratch said sweetly. “Each of you will be enjoyed in turn.”
Taking a deep breath, Ivy placed her hand in his frigid palm, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Turning away from Jules, she allowed him to lead her into the darkness. Jules’ protests echoed off the walls as the gate swung closed behind them. There was no getting out of this. If she used her magic against Fhaescratch and he overpowered her, he would turn his attention to Jules. The risk was too great. The King of the Laltogs was going to feed from her, and there was no stopping him. As the continued across the chamber, Ivy tried to prepare herself, taking deep breaths to slow the rhythm of her pulse. Fear would only make her blood sweeter, and if he was tempted to drain her, she wouldn’t be alive to help Jules.
“So,” Ivy asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling, “do you take me in a glass or go straight to the source.”
“Warm blood from the vein is always so much better,” he said. “I bottled the blood of King Odhran a few days ago, and it was good but too cold for my liking.”
Ivy shuddered, despite her best efforts. She would have to stand helplessly by while this dark creature bit into her. It went against her very nature. Every instinct urged her to fight, but she knew her struggle would only make things worse for Jules. Maybe it would be like a shot, Ivy told herself. A very unpleasant shot.
She only hoped she and Jules both lived to return to their lives. Now that she faced real injury, Ivy couldn’t help but think of Ardan. She was finally happy, really and truly happy, in spite of all the many changes she’d gone through. They had only been married for three months. And it wasn’t enough.
Closing her eyes, Ivy thought of him as she stumbled through the darkness. It was the only way she kept herself from running.
No one will ever love you as I love you.
Ardan had whispered those words in the darkness more than once, words she felt surge through her with a mixture of bliss and fear. Words that made her stomach flip. Words that had the same effect as roaming hands and hot breath and lips.
Ivy’s heart pounded as she recalled the way Ardan had been watching her at dinner the night of her graduation party. As Lyric quizzed Jules on her plans to join the ranks of the Unseelie Fae and Lochlan and Padraic discussed the migration of pixies between Spring and Summer, Ardan had watched her from across the table, his black eyes glowing gold with desire. A fire had started in Ivy’s belly and burned through the rest of her body as she considered what he might be thinking. When she felt her cheeks warm, she forced her eyes to the table and tried to steady her breath. Her heart rattled around like moths inside her chest, and while she took a bite of her dinner here and there, she was too breathless to eat. Finally, when she could no longer keep her curiosity at bay, she had met his eyes once again.
Still burning like twin flames, he smiled at her--that crooked lascivious smile she loved and hated at the same time.
Feeling as though she might combust in the middle of Lyric’s perfectly planned graduation feast, Ivy excused herself from the table and rushed from the room. As if propelled by a motor, she ran down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time until she reached the lower vestibule. Not knowing what else to do, she rushed outside into the ice gardens, hoping the blast of Winter cold would cool her down.
That was the effect Ardan had on her. She smoldered beneath his gaze, and a single look from him could make her forget her words and thoughts in mid-sentence. Jules had warned her that sharing a bed with Ardan would not be like sharing one with Bear.
“They’re polar opposites,” she had said. “Bear is a lighthouse, constant and safe with a light that guides you home. Ardan is the powderkeg that engulfs the entire boat with a single spark. They both could make you happy, but Ardan will be a force of nature.”
Jules had never been more right about anything. As Ivy had pressed herself against the cold stones of the castle, trying to steady her breathing, Ardan had found her. And there, in the cold, his touch had ignited what had already been burning within her. Despite the snow that drifted from the dark sky above them, Ardan had guided her into the shadows, where they had burned, fire and ice, mingling together in the silent garden.
Finally, Fhaescratch slowed his pace, pulling Ivy from her thoughts. With a twist of his hand and a flash of light, the torches on the walls roared to life. They were in a different chamber. In the corner was a sort of rocky dais with a black velvet settee in the middle. A lump rose in her throat. She didn’t know exactly what she had been expecting—something violent and evil and…uncomfortable—but not this.
Ivy’s stomach flipped in her middle.
In a low-sweeping bow, Fhaescratch gestured toward the settee. “Please, do make yourself comfortable. This doesn’t have to be unpleasant…that is, unless you want it to be. However, I find that blood tastes sweeter when the source is willing.”
On shaky legs, Ivy stepped up to the dais and sank into the soft cushions of the settee.
“That’s it,” Fhaescratch said. “Lie back.”
When Ivy sat frozen in place, her pulse quickening with fear, Fhaescratch leaned down, snaked his arms around her ankles and lifted them until they were resting lengthwise on the settee. Gently, he pushed against her shoulders until she was lying flat. She stared up into the endless darkness beyond the soft glow from the torches, wondering how high the ceiling was. When she felt his cold fingers pluck her hand from her side, she glanced in his direction. Smiling, he turned her wrist up and inhaled deeply, as if he were smelling his dinner, which was painfully accurate.
Her skin crawled, and she squeezed her eyes shut, as if that act alone could make everything disappear.
“Don’t be afraid, your Highness,” he whispered. “It will only hurt for a moment.”
Before she could protest, he curled his lips back to expose the lethal points of his fangs and chomped down on her wrist.
Ivy screamed as pain ripped up her arm like a blade. But just when she thought she might die, it dissolved like snow, giving way to a complete euphoria she had never known before. With a soft sigh, she closed her eyes, images of Ardan playing behind her lids. His deep laughter. The sharp points of his teeth. The way his breath tickled her ear when he whispered her name.
“That’s right, Princess,” Fhaescratch whispered. “Lose yourself in the pleasure this can be.”
She felt her arm dangling over the side of the settee, the air pressing cold kisses against her bleeding wrist. She could hear the blood plinking against something, and for a moment, Ivy had the strangest image of milk from a cow dripping into a metal bucket. He was draining her, but somehow, she didn’t care.
Without warning, pain exploded once more, this time in her neck, and she was vaguely aware that Fhaescratch was holding her shoulders, but soon, he, like the pain, disappeared, giving way to her most pleasant memories, which floated through her mind like friendly ghosts.
Chapter Twenty-Four Jules
Ivy’s scream pierced through the silence like a wounded animal. The pain it held shot daggers into Jules’ heart. The only thing worse was the silence that followed. She shook her head, holding her ears.
Ivy’s not dead. She’s not dead. She can’t be.
Panic seized her, wrapping her in its clenching fist, as her breaths came sharply and rapidly until she thought she was hyperventilating. Hot tears streamed from her eyes, pouring in rivulets of desperation down her cheeks.
“Poor little human. Looks like your best friend just became a midnight snack for the Laltog King.”
Teagan’s unmistakable voice echoed close by. Gathering her wits, Jules took a deep breath and snapped her head up. Shining the light of the moonstone in front of her, Teagan leaned against the wall of the cave just outside the iron bars. Jules was too overcome by her anger to speak. As the rage surged through her entire body, she could barely even breathe. Teagan was the author of Ivy’s suffering, and she needed to die.
“What’s the matter?” Teagan taunted. “No Fae guardians to save you after mouthing off?”
Instead of fighting against the dark feelings, though, Jules welcomed them. She smiled, never wanting to give Teagan the satisfaction of tears. “Poor Teagan,” Jules said. “Still sore after Padraic decided he’d rather die replacing his father on the throne than live and marry you?”
Teagan’s vicious smile faded. Pain might follow, but the satisfaction Jules felt in that moment could never be undone.
“Padraic wasn’t worthy of me,” she said. “In fact, I think he deserves you. Both of you will squirm beneath my power before this is over. Both of you will regret the day you dared to stand against me.”
Jules stared back at her, unimpressed. She was too tired to muster up any logical self-preservation instincts. Teagan waited for a reaction.
“Oh? Is this the part where I’m supposed to tremble with fear and beg for mercy while I wait for some big tough man to save me? Sorry to disappoint, but if that’s the kind of reaction you’re looking for, you picked the wrong girl.”
Teagan’s face twisted into a scowl, her black curls floating around her head like shadows as she backed away from the door and raised her hands. Winter magic surged forward, freezing the bars. It’s what Ivy had been trying to do but lacked the strength after trying to fight the Laltogs. Strutting toward Jules, Teagan smirked as she kicked the bars, which cracked and shattered to the ground like ice.
Frickedy Frack.
Jules hadn’t been counting on Teagan getting inside. The odds were stacked against her, she knew all too well, but there was no way she was going down without a fight. She scrambled to her feet, leaning casually against the wall. With no barrier between them, Teagan stared at her with a satisfied smile before stomping toward her.
“Careful now,” Jules said, sidestepping her. “I’d hate for you to ruin King Fhaescratch’s dessert.”
Teagan only hesitated for a moment, but it was enough. Jules lurched forward, tackling her to the ground before she could recover from the shock of it. Calling upon the training sessions she’d completed with Ivy, she pinned her to the ground, landing several good punches before Teagan blasted her off with a powerful surge of magic. Jules hit the wall, cracking her head. Stunned, she saw the swirling stars of unconsciousness as she blinked rapidly and slid down the wall. Before Jules could react, Teagan kicked forward, her heavy boots finding the pit of her stomach. Coughing and struggling to catch her breath, Jules reached out, closing her palm around a piece of the iron bar, now thawed, despite Teagan’s magic.
When Teagan pulled her leg back to strike again, Jules rolled away, ignoring the pain in her knees as she turned on the evil bitch. Bracing herself on a knee and a foot, Jules lurched out with all the power she could muster to stab Teagan in the leg with the iron bar. As her screams echoed off the walls, Teagan limped away from her before Jules could strike again.
The bar still protruding from Teagan’s flesh, Jules blindly searched for another piece of the iron door, unable to find what she was seeking in the dim light of the fallen moonstone. She’d have to settle for a loose rock instead. Pulling the bar from her leg, Teagan launched herself forward, aiming for Jules’ heart. She turned just in time to save her life, but the jagged bar bit deep into her shoulder. With a scream of pain, Jules swung the rock in her other hand, clipping Teagan just behind the ear. Reeling, Teagan stumbled backward, managing to keep herself upright by leaning against the wall.
“I am going to kill you slowly and make Padraic watch,” Teagan hissed. “Then, I’ll feed you both to the hellhounds.”
“If only she were yours to kill,” a voice said from the darkness. “Yet, I believe our agreement was that the human is mine.”
Jules’ blinked against the stars that popped and fizzled before her eyes. King Fhaescratch stood in the cell’s doorway, carrying Ivy in his arms. She was unconscious but, thankfully, breathing. The Laltog King’s eyes were burning a wild orange with fury he appeared to be fighting.
“My apologies,” Teagan said through clenched teeth.
Fhaescratch made mocking clucking sounds at her. “Nearly bested by a human,” he said. “What is the Seelie Realm coming to? Now, if you expect me to hold up my end of the bargain, I suggest you stop toying with my dessert.”
Ignoring him, Teagan glared at Jules, who wished she could have mustered up a mocking smile, but she was too busy trying not to pass out. Without another word, Teagan rushed from the cell and disappeared into the darkness.
“For a human, you aren’t very smart,” he said, crossing the floor of the cell. He dropped to his knee and gently settled Ivy onto the floor near Jules’ fallen moonstone. The eerie glow revealed two puncture wounds on Ivy’s throat and two more on her wrist.
“How much blood did you take?” Jules whispered, suddenly worried.
Ivy’s skin was always pale, but now she was cadaverous.
“Enough to weaken her magic,” Fhaescratch said. “But she will make a full recovery.”
“Before you nearly drain her again?” Jules asked. “I guess you’re here because it’s my turn?”
Closing his eyes, Fhaescratch closed his eyes and sniffed the air. “You do smell positively delicious, but I can already tell I’ll want seconds. With your injuries, you won’t be strong enough to survive it.”
“Pity,” Jules said.
“Quite,” he replied. “I do have a remedy that will speed your recovery…and, consequently, my final course.”
Jules shuddered.
Smiling Fhaescratch bit down on his own wrist, and with a movement faster than Jules could detect, crossed the cell and pressed it to her mouth. She fought against him at first, but when he held his other hand against her head, she had no strength to fight him, no choice but to obey. Against her will, she swallowed down the coppery blood, gagging and coughing with the taste of it. After several moments, he pulled his arm away. Without another word he turned and walked out of the cell. Just when she was about to escape through the shattered door, magic crackled like twinkling stars, another door appearing in its place. Fhaescratch’s gravelly laughter lingered behind him in the darkness.
By the time she had crossed the room and sat beside Ivy, the stars behind her eyes had disappeared, and her head had stopped pounding. Feeling no more pain, she reached up to touch her shoulder, finding the wound was completely healed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Teagan couldn’t believe the Laltog King had interfered with her destruction of Juliet McKinnon.
There was no way Teagan would let a human sit on the throne that should have been hers. Tonight, the human would die.
She just needed to figure out how.
As she settled down on a stone bench in the hidden portal room Fhaescratch had mapped out for her, Teagan revisited her plans. Ivy would eventually die once Fhaescratch tired of her blood. Once the Thorn Princess was weak and all used up, Teagan would visit her cell like a human deat
h omen and end her reign forever. Meanwhile, Lyric was rapidly fading in the Winter Court, and her wounds would never be healed without Laltog blood, which Lochlan would never allow, even if the Magi suggested it. Damarion and Violet were hiding inside the Summer Castle and had locked all the walls. The other Courts would have heard of the wedding attack and done the same, she thought.
An hour before, she had sent her Army of darkling castoffs through the hidden portal to wait for her at the edge of the Seelie Court lands. She had ordered them to stay in place until she figured out what to do with Slaine. Once she had decided, she would lead the darklings into Seelie, taking the Seelie Castle first. Saliva pooled in Teagan’s mouth as she thought of plunging her dagger into Endellion’s heartless chest.
But now, what to do about Slaine?
The darkest part of her urged her to kill her sister. But even one as dark as Teagan hesitated to kill a pregnant Fae. Besides, if Teagan could manage to keep the child and raise it at her side, she would be allied with the future Seelie heir. Raising her sister’s brat wasn’t the worst way to secure her power. But would she be strong enough to end her sister after the babe was born? Despite their differences, Slaine was the only creature Teagan had ever loved. She had spent hours mourning her murder of Odhran. If she killed her sister, she might never recover.
That would be problematic.
But perhaps, if she could convince Slaine to join her, she could take the heir shortly after and have someone else kill Slaine.
Yes, that would be the best route.
In the meantime, she needed to make sure the Seelie Queen believed Slaine had betrayed them. Poor Slaine. Finally under the same roof as the boy she had loved since childhood, and thanks to suggestions Teagan whispered as the queen slept, Queen Endellion had grown increasingly suspicious of her daughter-in-law. Her own husband didn’t even trust her—not that he ever would. Regardless, it was all working out splendidly.
