Mark of the Fae: A Fated Mates Fae Romance (Shadow Court Book 2)

by KJ Baker

  I found myself stepping into a small, white-washed room with a high window that looked out over the valley. A woman lay in a bed against one wall, her eyes closed, her skin deathly pale. One of the white-robed Fae was fussing over her. A man sat by the bed. He looked up as the door opened and rose slowly to his feet.

  He looked nothing like Raven and Ffion. Instead of the dark hair and eyes, this man looked as though he’d been painted with light. He had golden skin, white-blond hair and the eyes that flicked over the three of us were the richest shade of blue, like a summer sky. But the high cheekbones were the same, the same sculpted good-looks and piercing gaze. Just like Raven and his sister, I immediately sensed that this man was dangerous. His clothing was mud-spattered and travel stained and there were more weapons strapped around his body than I’d even seen Raven carry.

  The man looked at me, then Ffion, then finally his eyes settled on Raven. “So,” he said after a moment. “You made it back then.”

  Raven shrugged. “Just about.”

  The man grinned suddenly, the expression lighting his face. “Damn it, brother, I knew even the mortal realm couldn’t kill you. It’s good to see you.”

  Raven grinned in response then the two men were crossing the room and embracing warmly. “And I knew the Court of the Sun couldn’t kill you, no matter how hard they tried. It’s good to see you too, Firian.”

  Firian, or Hawk as he seemed to be more often called, sobered abruptly. The grin vanished from his face and he stepped back. “No, the Court of the Sun didn’t kill me but it’s not from lack of trying.” His eyes clouded. “Arion, the Court of the Moon has fallen. I’m sorry, my king, I couldn’t hold it any longer.”

  A slight throbbing of a vein in Raven’s temple was the only thing that betrayed his reaction. “You held for longer than anyone else could have. You have nothing to apologize for.”

  Hawk scratched the back of his head. “Ah, Spire take it! They came at us like a plague of locusts, Arion! I’ve never seen so many. Not just the Sun Court either, but others I couldn’t identify. We held the walls for as long as we could, giving the civilians time to escape. In the end, we were overrun. We were lucky to get out with our lives. I’ve brought the survivors here.”

  “How many?”

  “Several thousand,” Ffion put in. A grudging respect filled her voice as she looked at Hawk. “Most of the non-combatants of the Moon Court and around a quarter of their warriors. No mean feat to march so many across open country with an enemy on your tail.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without Rillana,” Hawk said, nodding to the woman lying asleep in the sick bed. “She kept us all going.”

  Raven crouched by the bed. Slowly he reached out and placed his palm against her forehead. I saw his lips move, whispering words under his breath. The woman did not respond and after a moment Raven straightened again. “Who is she?”

  “A priestess of the Spire. She came to the Moon Court right in the middle of the battle.”

  “What happened to her?”

  Hawk winced. “We were ambushed three days ago. Rillana took an arrow to the ribs. She’s not woken since.” He looked up, met Raven’s gaze. “It was her the ambushers were after, brother. Not me. Not anyone under my command. They went straight for her. Why would they do that? Why would they attack a priestess of the Spire? It is forbidden by every custom of our people.”

  Raven shook his head. He addressed the healer who’d been tending Rillana. “Will she recover?”

  The healer shrugged. “It’s too early to say. The arrow was poisoned with henbane. We’ve administered an antidote but it’s up to her now. She’ll either pull through or she won’t.”

  “I want guards on this room,” Raven said. “Nobody is to come in or out without my permission.”

  Hawk’s eyebrows rose. “You think such precaution is necessary? Here? In the heart of the Shadow Court?”

  “Yes, even here, brother.”

  Hawk huffed out a breath. “Looks like I have quite some catching up to do. Starting,” his bright blue eyes suddenly found mine, “with this talk I hear of you finding your fated mate. Is it true?”

  Hawk’s gaze was frank and appraising. I met his stare, doing my best not to squirm. Here we go, I thought.

  “It’s true,” Raven said. He took my hand. “Firian, this is Asha Grant. My mate.”

  I lifted my chin, ready for the same scorn which I got from Ffion.

  So I was utterly shocked when Hawk broke into a wide, boyish smile, stepped forward, and pulled me into a bear-hug. This close he smelled of blood and sweat, but I was so surprised that I barely noticed. His strength was immense, lifting me as easily as if I weighed no more than a doll.

  “I have a new sister!” he said brightly, setting me on my feet. He winked. “And I stand in awe of the woman who’s either brave enough or insane enough to put up with my brother. Which are you, Asha?”

  I found myself laughing. “Oh, insane, definitely.”

  Hawk barked a laugh. “Then you’ll fit right in. When is the bonding?”

  “We haven’t thought that far ahead,” Raven cut in quickly. “And considering what’s going on, we’ve had other matters on our mind.”

  “You shouldn’t delay,” Hawk said. “Asha can’t have her coronation until you’re married.”

  I blinked. Marriage? Coronation? What?

  Raven glanced at me and then deftly changed the subject. In the blink of an eye he became King Arion, Lord of the Shadow Court.

  “Hawk, I’ll need a full debrief of your mission. I’ll convene the war council in half an hour. Is that long enough for you to get cleaned up?”

  Hawk nodded. “I’ll be there.”

  Raven turned to Ffion. “Where are the refugees from the Moon Court?”

  “In the inner courtyard.”

  “They’ll need to be housed and fed. Task someone to take care of it—”

  “I’ll do that,” I blurted.

  Raven looked at me in surprise.

  “I’ll do it,” I repeated. “I’ll take care of the refugees. I’ve been a spare part ever since we arrived.”

  Raven looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. He nodded. “Thank you, Asha. Ffion will escort you.”

  “But I—” Ffion began.

  Raven’s sharp glance silenced her. “I realize you want to attend the war council, Fi, but this task is equally important. Perhaps more so. The Moon Court are our allies and we must keep them so. If we’re to stand any chance against the Unseelie, we need the support of the other courts. Do this for me, please?”

  Ffion glowered at her brother but then nodded. “Fine. But I want updating on everything that’s said at the war council. Clear?”

  Raven gave a lopsided smile. “I would expect nothing less.”

  I turned to follow Ffion out of the room but Raven took my arm. “Be careful,” he whispered, so low that I could barely hear the words.

  I tried to give him a brave smile. “Always.”

  I went up on tiptoes, gave him a kiss on the cheek, then followed Ffion out.

  She walked quickly and I was forced to trot to keep up with her as we wended through the corridors of the castle. Damn it, I’m sure she did it on purpose. But I said not a word and instead concentrated on trying to memorize our route. The palace was like a maze and I was determined that I would learn its ways. After all, it was my home now wasn’t it?

  We arrived at a large open door and stepped through into a vast square courtyard. It was crammed with people. Everywhere I looked there were ragged Fae, some standing in disconsolate groups, others lying on the ground, injured or exhausted. A contingent of palace guards stood around the perimeter of the courtyard, keeping a wary eye on the newcomers. An air of misery permeated the area so strongly that it coiled like smoke in the air. I was appalled. What the hell? Why had these people been corralled here like this? As though they were cattle?

  “Who’s in charge here?” I asked.

  F
fion pointed to a tall, thin man wearing maroon robes who sat at a table on the far side of the courtyard. A long line of people waited before him and every now and then he would bend and scribble something into a ledger.

  Feeling a flush of annoyance, I walked out into the courtyard and picked my way through the throng of people to approach the table.

  “What’s going on here?” I demanded.

  The man looked up, watery gray eyes fixing on me. He was incredibly pale, even for a Fae, with skin as white as milk. He blinked. “And you are?”

  Ffion gave a slightly sardonic laugh. “Seneschal Carda, this is Asha Grant, mate to King Arion.”

  If he was impressed by this, he gave no sign. “I see. Well, Asha Grant, as you see, I’m doing my job. The refugees are being cataloged.”

  “Cataloged? What does that mean?”

  “It means, my lady, that when the Court of the Moon fell, most of these people left without their papers. We have no idea who they are.”

  “Why does that matter?” I looked around at the refugees. Nearby a child was crying and being unsuccessfully shushed by an older sister. Neither looked to be more than eight years old. An old woman lay in a wagon against one wall, her lips bloodless and her breathing shallow. A bandage around her head had turned crimson. “You can see who they are!” I went on, angry now. “They are old people and youngsters, people who’ve lost their homes and their families! They need shelter and medical attention, not listing in some book!”

  Carda took a deep breath then said slowly, as though I was stupid, “There are procedures to be followed—”

  “Damn your procedures! Get these people out of this courtyard and properly housed!”

  When Carda merely stared at me as though I was speaking a foreign language, I turned to the guards instead. “You! All of you! Over here!”

  They glanced at each other uncertainly, but then walked slowly over. There were ten of them in total, both men and women, dressed in the black uniform of the palace guard. They watched me expectantly. My stomach lurched. I had no real idea what I was doing or whether these people would obey me, but I had to try.

  “You two,” I said, pointing at the nearest guards. “Go to the infirmary and tell half the healers to come here right away. They are to set up a triage station. The other half are to make beds ready to receive patients.”

  The guards did not move, but merely watched me with unreadable looks on their faces. My stomach sank. Was this how it was going to be?

  Help came from an unexpected quarter.

  “What are you waiting for?” Ffion snapped. “Your queen-apparent just gave you an order!”

  The two guards jumped to attention, snapped me a quick salute, and dashed off towards the infirmary. I gave Ffion a quick look of gratitude.

  “You four,” I said, pointing. “Go to the kitchens and tell them to send food and drink immediately. The rest of you, start making your way amongst the refugees. All those that are able to walk will be sent to the dining hall to be fed and watered until accommodations can be arranged. Make a note of all those that are injured ready for the triage station when the healers arrive.”

  The guards saluted and moved off to carry out my orders. I blew out a breath. Progress.

  The seneschal had a face like thunder. “I must protest! Who do you think you are, coming in here and giving orders—”

  “Seneschal,” I said, cutting him off. I did not have the natural air of command of Raven, nor the intimidating presence of Ffion, so I did my best to emulate my old piano teacher’s tone of voice. She had been a very scary woman. “Where were you planning on housing these people?”

  I couldn’t miss the way he glanced at Ffion before answering. I gritted my teeth, pretending not to notice.

  “The north wing,” he grated. “There are several empty rooms. Some can be put there.”

  “Some? But not all?”

  He shook his head. “There simply isn’t enough room within the palace for an influx of this size. I will speak with King Arion, see what he wishes me to do-”

  “No, you won’t. King Arion has asked me to deal with the refugees. You and I will work together to find a solution to this problem.”

  He held my gaze for a moment. He had a sharp nose and little of the beauty that characterized many of the Fae. Nevertheless, there was a cold arrogance in his gaze as he studied me and I instantly knew what he was thinking. How dare a weak little mortal speak to him like that?

  But I was sick and tired of being thought of as a ‘weak little mortal’. That I was somehow less than they were. That I did not deserve their respect. I’d had it from Simeon Ash. I’d had it from Ffion. I’d had it from just about everyone I’d met here, except for Bowen and Hawk. I wasn’t about to take it from this jumped-up, over-officious aide. I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow, watching him expectantly. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Ffion doing the same, seeing how this confrontation would play out.

  Finally, Carda inclined his head. “As you say. We’ll find a solution.”

  “Good.” I kept my expression carefully neutral, even though I wanted to exhale loudly in relief. I pointed to the ledger in Carda’s hands. “How many refugees are there?”

  “Over two thousand.”

  “And how many can be housed in the north wing?”

  “Maybe a quarter of that.”

  I placed my hands on my hips and turned to survey the refugees. The guards I’d dispatched had begun to organize them as I’d indicated, lining up those who would be seen by the healers, directing others to the hall where they could get some food. There were so many. I balked. I’d promised Raven I would sort this. I did not want to fail at the first task trusted to me. But what was I to do?

  My eyes roved across the palace, its high walls, its towers and battlements. It was a huge structure. Surely, space could be found for these people somewhere? Then my eyes alighted on a section that fronted the palace to the east, where it caught the rising sun.

  “What’s that?”

  “The east wing,” Carda replied. “Reserved for the nobility.”

  “Is it in use?”

  “Some,” Carda replied. “Most of the great families have apartments in that wing which they use when they visit the palace.”

  “And how many are visiting the palace right now.”

  “Three.”

  “Only three? Meaning the rest of those apartments are standing empty?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then what are you waiting for? Open them! House the refugees there. Is that wing large enough to accommodate the rest of them?”

  Carda shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yes, but what you’re asking is impossible. The great families would never allow it.”

  I stared at him. “Never allow it? I don’t remember saying I was asking for anyone’s permission! Seneschal Carda, you will open those apartments immediately, do you understand? You will see that every single one of these refugees is given a place to sleep. I don’t care if that’s in some great family’s empty apartment or even in the royal ones. Is that clear?”

  He opened his mouth a few times but no words came out.

  Ffion suddenly laughed. “You know, Asha, I think I might be starting to like you. It’s past time the great families had their noses tweaked. Well, Carda, what are you waiting for? You’ve just been given a direct order!”

  “I...um...yes, right away,” Carda mumbled. He looked as shocked as if I’d just ordered him to strip off all his clothes and ride naked through the palace on the back of a donkey. He gave a sketchy bow and hurried away, taking his ledger with him.

  I blew out a breath, sagging slightly. Ffion stepped close.

  “That was nicely done,” she murmured. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. I wasn’t sure whether she was mocking me or not.

  A side door suddenly opened and a string of white-robed healers came streaming into the courtyard. One of them, who I recognized as being the healer who’d been tending Rillana earlier, approac
hed me. I quickly gave her instructions and was pleasantly surprised when she did not question but merely moved to obey. In no time at all a triage station had been set up in the far corner of the courtyard and the healers were moving amongst the refugees, assessing each one. A steady stream of stretchers began making their way down to the infirmary.

  I watched it all for a moment, then turned to Raven’s sister. “How are your nursing skills?”

  “Non-existent. Why?”

  “Well, you better be a quick learner then. Come on.”

  I rolled up my sleeves and went to help the healers.

  Several hours later—I wasn’t sure how many—I straightened from where I knelt by a bed in the infirmary and stretched my arms over my head, doing my best to work out the kinks and aches that seemed to have set into every muscle in my body.

  “You look how I feel,” said the patient lying in the bed.

  I smiled. She was an older Fae with lines around her mouth and touches of gray in her otherwise black hair. For a Fae, I knew that must mean she was old indeed. What had she seen in her long life? I wondered. What could she tell me about the world I had stepped into? I almost asked her but something stopped me. Instead, I just smiled, passed her the pain-killing concoction, and then left her to sleep.

  As I made my way to the door, I examined myself. My clothes were dirty and spotted with other people’s blood and my hair was scraped back from my face in a pony tail. I must look a sight. Ffion and I had worked all day to get the refugees from the Court of the Moon settled in the palace. I had no idea of the time but the sunlight slanted through the window at a low angle, suggesting it would soon set.

  I was exhausted. My limbs ached and I was so hungry I felt hollow through the middle. We hadn’t stopped to eat or drink save for a glass of water one of the healers insisted I drank at one point. Yes, it had been a long, grueling day, but we were finally almost there. The infirmary was full, with every bed taken. A spill-over ward had been set up in the corridor with beds brought from other parts of the palace.