King of the Unblessed

by Michelle M. Pillow

  The battle went as was to be expected. Neither side had really wanted to fight, but they felt they were left with no choice. Gregor had done his job well, convincing Ean that Merrick wished to be at war with him. Unfortunately for Gregor, he was of no more use to Lucien. The King of the Damned sat back in his tree, content to let the battle unfold as it would. It didn’t matter to his plans who took the field this day. Smiling, he let the hand mirror disappear into a puff of smoke. He couldn’t have planned it more perfectly.

  * * *

  By the time morning turned to afternoon, the warriors were physically exhausted with no clear victor and many dead. Wounded soldiers littered the forest and search parties were dispatched to find them. As was tradition, both sides’ remaining leaders met in the middle of the battlefield. Merrick eyed his brother. They were both covered in blood.

  “Are you satisfied?” Ean demanded, charging Merrick and striking him angrily in the chest.

  Merrick threw him off. “The battle is over, but the war is just begun. You got what you wanted.”

  “What I wanted?” Ean spat. Merrick turned his back on him. He couldn’t look at him, not right now. Every death that day he felt. It was his burden. Ean would feel the loss, but he would never feel the death. “Don’t turn your back on me. Face me, you coward. Let us end this now! Between us.”

  * * *

  Gregor stepped forward from his place of hiding, watching the meeting of the kings after battle. Seeing a body, he knelt down and smeared blood on his face and clothes, marring the nearly untouched material. Then, running the fallen troll through with his blade, he bloodied that as well.

  “Don’t turn your back on me. Face me, you coward. Let us end this now! Between us.”

  Gregor flinched at the anger in Ean’s voice. There was nothing he could do about it. Merrick kept walking. Ean growled but turned the other way. The Blessed King could not kill the Unblessed. Gregor waited until Ean’s body blurred as he ran off.

  The commander was propelled into action. He jumped from the trees and ran after Merrick. This was his chance, his time for vengeance. He charged the Unblessed King, striking out with his sword. Merrick turned on reflex, blocking the man’s blow. Swords clanged, but no one was hurt. They squared off.

  “Turn away,” Merrick ordered. “Draw back your sword. The battle is over. I’ve had enough death for one day.”

  “The battle is not yet over,” Gregor growled, attacking full-force. He charged Merrick, hatred burning in his heart. Merrick skillfully dodged the man’s blows. “I am not afraid. This is a battle I cannot lose.”

  “Don’t tell me you fight me over her.” Merrick said in disgust. “Will you never understand it? Shyra is a whore.”

  “Only because that is what you made her.” Gregor switched direction, trying to catch Merrick off-guard. Merrick somersaulted out of the way before lifting up to stab Gregor through the stomach. Gregor blinked in surprise, looking down at the blade in his gut. It wasn’t possible. How could this have happened?

  Merrick ripped his blade from him. Gregor fell to the ground, clutching his gut. Merrick leaned over him. “Foolish man. Don’t you know I cannot be killed by the blade? Now you will die for your stupidity. That woman was never worth as much anger as you gave over her.”

  Merrick growled and stalked off into the forest. Gregor looked up at the tree limbs in bewilderment. His vision was shadowed as dark, sinister eyes leaned over him, blocking his view.

  “Lucien,” Gregor gasped, fighting against the pain. “Help me.”

  “Why?” Lucien’s mouth curled up at the side in amusement.

  “You promised I could kill him. I cannot die here.” A shudder of pain racked him. “I have served you these many years. I have done all that you asked of me.”

  “Aye, you did.”

  “You promised to help me kill him. You promised to give me my Shyra back.”

  “I promised King Merrick would be within your grasp and he was. It is you who failed, not I. And don’t worry. Your whore Shyra will meet her fate with my demons soon enough. It is up to you to find her in the afterlife.”

  Realization dawned on Gregor. He jerked, fighting his fate. “You lied. You did not keep your bargain. I demand that you help me.”

  “Very well.” Lucien knelt on the ground. Reaching forward, he covered Gregor’s mouth with his hand and pinched his nose. Gregor’s eyes widened as he struggled for breath. His hand gripped Lucien’s arm, but he was weak from blood loss. As he watched, Lucien’s eyes darkened to black. Heat spread from the Damned King’s fingers. Gregor tried to scream, but fire burst from Lucien’s hand, incinerating his insides. Darkness surrounded him and he felt no more.

  * * *

  Hugh pushed up from the ground, blinking in confusion as he tried to get his bearings. Hearing a moan, he turned to Nicholas. The man was standing, holding his bloodied head.

  “What?” Nicholas whispered, squinting at Hugh.

  Hugh shot to his feet, as his memory flooded back to him in full force. He ran into the field. “Thomas!”

  “Thomas?” Nicholas repeated softly, before shouting, “Thomas!”

  Hugh found the grass where his brother’s body had lain, still stained red with Thomas’ blood. He looked around the clearing for a sign of him, but found none.

  “Where is he?” Nicholas asked, spinning in circles in his confusion.

  “Thomas,” Hugh yelled, not caring if he brought the whole of King Merrick’s army down on him. “Thomas!”

  “Hugh, he’s gone,” Nicholas said, grabbing his arm. “King Merrick must have taken him.”

  Hugh grabbed Nicholas by the tunic and shook him. Rage poured out of him. First Juliana and now Thomas. “He will not have my family!”

  Nicholas gripped him back. “He will pay for this. We will make him pay.”

  Hugh let go, nodding. “You are a good friend, Nicholas. I’ve given it much thought and I want you to take your father’s place. If you’ll have her, regardless of what has happened to her, I wish for you to wed Juliana.”

  “Shouldn’t we ask Juliana what she wants?” Nicholas asked.

  “She’ll do her duty,” Hugh said, assured of it. “And I would have her close to Bellemare always, lest we are needed to protect her from this accursed realm. We will combine the lands you inherit from your father with Bellemare’s. Together we will build a fortress the likes of which this realm has never seen. We’ll hire priests to bless every corner. These immortals will never touch our families again.”

  “Aye. I will take your sister as wife. Let us agree on it.” Nicholas nodded, grasping Hugh’s wrist in his palm and holding it firmly.

  “It is done,” Hugh said.

  * * *

  Juliana didn’t know how long she lay on the hard stone before pulling herself back up to the basin. Again her image stared back at her from the water’s smooth surface. Her eyes were red and puffy, her hair frizzed about her head where she had pulled at it. She did not recognize the pale, drawn features that reflected back at her.

  “Show me the future,” she said, dipping her fingers. “Show me my brothers.”

  The basin remained unchanged. Maybe there was no future to see. She looked at her hand. The blood had dried. Finding a single crimson flower on the wall, she walked toward it. Her head pounded violently, causing a horrible ache behind her eyes. The wall gradually parted to let her pass, the stone moving slower than before. Juliana didn’t pay attention to her surroundings as she numbly staggered through the maze. She reached the black path, walking across without so much as a glance to the side yards.

  “I wondered when you’d get back. I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.”

  Juliana gasped, looking around the torch-lit passageway. The voice startled her from her misery.

  “Such a nasty cut. Would you like me to get that for you?”

  Juliana spun around. Black eyes stared at her from a dark face and she swore she saw flecks of red dancing within their depths, the
crimson color too deep to have come from the soft torchlight. The man dressed like Merrick, in darker clothing. The material matched his long black hair. He smiled, giving her a sinister look as he toyed with a ball of fire in his palm.

  “Are you a wizard?” Juliana asked, watching him control the flames.

  “I’ve come to help you, my lady,” the man answered.

  “I don’t need your help.” Juliana backed away from him. There was something about the man’s eyes, something hidden and dark, death and pain. Every fiber in her being told her to run, that this man was evil.

  He twisted his hand, pointing his index finger upward. The fire trailed to the tip. With a quick strike of his arm, he drew the finger over her wound. The fire seared the cut shut and she cried out at the sudden twinge. When he pulled back, the wound was sealed, but ached terribly. She grabbed her arm, breathing raggedly against the renewed pain.

  “Better.” The man smiled.

  “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “Lucien,” he answered. “I’ve come to help.”

  “I know who you are. You’re the King of the Damned.” Juliana continued to back away. “I don’t need your help.”

  “And you’re a king’s whore,” he spat, rolling his eyes heavenward. “Please, let us not dwell on titles. I do not judge you for your sins. I embrace you for them.”

  “I ask you again. What do you want?” Juliana’s back hit the door leading to the hall. It was closed. Reaching her hand to the handle, she pulled. It wouldn’t open. Lucien loomed closer.

  “And I answer again. I come to help you.” Lucien smirked.

  “I don’t need your help, nor do I want it. Leave this place at once. King Merrick—”

  “You aren’t curious as to my offer?” He affected a small pout, the very look mocking her fear of him.

  “Nay.”

  “Even if it’s to avenge your brother’s death?” he asked, tilting his head to the side knowingly.

  Juliana felt as if he’d slapped her. She couldn’t move. Her hand dropped from the handle to stare at him. In that moment, she’d listen to anything.

  Lucien stepped closer, leaning over to whisper against her ear. His hand cupped her face, as gentle as a lover’s caress. He rubbed his smooth cheek to hers. “Mm, you know Merrick killed him, don’t you? Your beloved Thomas is dead.”

  Juliana’s mouth trembled, but no sound came out. She couldn’t speak. Tears ran down her face and Lucien caressed them, rubbing his thumb over her cheek to smear the moisture around.

  “I can give you the power to avenge Thomas.” Lucien pushed his fingers into her hair. Pulling back, he studied her face. His voice was soft, sweet, tempting.

  “Is Hugh…?” Juliana trembled, thinking of him lying on the ground, unmoving.

  “Aye. He’s dying. There is nothing to be done for it. Go see it for yourself out in the garden if you don’t believe me. I hear Merrick has a divining basin within the center.”

  Juliana cried harder, silent, heartbroken tears. It was as she’d feared. Remembering Thomas’ broken body, she trembled and whispered, “I saw it.”

  “It is left to you, Juliana,” Lucien whispered. “Only you can avenge them.”

  “What is your price for this revenge? My soul?”

  Lucien licked her lips, running the tip of his tongue over the seam. The hand in her hair kept her from backing away. Her mouth trembled, trying to block out his taste. She didn’t want him touching her, didn’t want his lips kissing her. His touch repulsed her. “Would you give me your soul for this?”

  Juliana tried to think straight. So much had happened. Hugh’s and Thomas’ faces flashed before her eyes. She wished she was dead too, right along with them. Dead, she would never have to make this decision. Was there even a decision to make? She knew her brothers wouldn’t want her to give up her soul to avenge them. “Nay.”

  “Ah, but would you give up your body? Would you come to my palace?” Lucien kissed her, thrusting his tongue just past her lips. She didn’t move, didn’t kiss him back. Juliana clamped her teeth together to keep him from probing farther into the depths of her mouth. “Would you give yourself to me?”

  Juliana knew her brothers wouldn’t want her to give her body to Lucien for revenge any more than they’d want her trading her soul. She’d sinned with Merrick. Would God forgive her if she sinned again with Lucien? If she did it for honor? For duty? For revenge? “I want to go home.”

  “There is no home for you. Your brothers are dead.”

  “William,” she whispered. “I have William.”

  “Not after Merrick gets to him,” Lucien said, casting his eyes down. He let her go, stepping back. “He goes there even now.”

  “Help me to stop him,” Juliana demanded. Her choice made, she said, “I’ll give you what you want if you help me to stop him from hurting William.”

  Lucien closed his eyes. Slowly, he shook his head, gasping softly. “Ah, nay, it’s too late. William is dead.”

  “Nay.” Juliana didn’t want to believe it. She pulled his shirt, shaking him. “Nay. Stop him. Stop it. I won’t listen to you!”

  “He kills your brothers knowing they will always come for you,” Lucien spat, forcefully pushing his body into hers. “Now there is no one to come for you. You belong to Merrick. Forever.”

  “Nay. I belong to no man,” Juliana said.

  “Very well. Do what I ask of you and I will take you to Bellemare,” he said. “Keep your soul and your body. Do this for me and that will be payment enough.”

  “Why are you helping me?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Juliana didn’t answer.

  “Take your dagger.” Lucien lifted his hand. In it was her jeweled dagger, the one her brothers had given her. She’d thought she’d lost it. There was blood on the blade. “Do not worry. The blood of the dragon will weaken him. Stab it into his heart.”

  Juliana stared at the blade. Could she do it? Could she stab Merrick? She shook her head in denial, unable to touch it.

  “Take it!” Lucien ordered. Juliana jolted in surprise and quickly grabbed the hilt. “Good. Stab him in his heart to weaken him and then slit his throat to kill him. Think of Thomas and Hugh and William. Think of what Merrick took from you.”

  “I do this and you will send me to Bellemare?” Juliana asked.

  “Aye, my lady.” Lucien nodded. “If you kill King Merrick, I’ll send you wherever you like.”

  Juliana didn’t move. Her whole body shook with fear and anger and heartache. Everything she loved was dead or hadn’t existed in the first place. Lucien bowed low, his body bursting into flames, leaving behind a puff of smoke as he disappeared. She was left alone in the hall.

  It didn’t matter that Nicholas had killed Eadward, for she had seen his death with Hugh’s. Merrick had killed the three things she had held dear above all others—her brothers. Even as she hated him, a part of her loved Merrick, would always love him. Maybe that was his curse. She loved the part of him she saw in private. She loved the man, not the king. How could a man who touched her with such kindness be so cruel? How could she kill him? Then again, how could she not?

  * * *

  Mia looked up from her place lounging on the floor of Lucien’s bedchamber. The fireplace surged and she knew Lucien was pleased with himself. That was never a good sign.

  “I take it your war was bloody?” she asked a little bitterly. She turned away, unable to look at him. How could she hate him so much and still love him?

  “Mm, aye.” Lucien grinned. “Very bloody.”

  “Who won the battle?” Mia asked in dejection, knowing it didn’t really matter.

  “I did,” Lucien said. He came to her, urging her to rise.

  Mia obeyed, coming to her feet. “You fought?”

  “Nay, I watched. Fate favors us this day, my nymph.” Lucien grabbed her hand. Mia gasped as he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. “Everything is perfect. Soon Merrick and Lord Bellemare will bel
ong to me. Either that or they’ll be dead.”

  Mia closed her eyes. “Tell me what you have done, my love. Tell me everything.”

  Lucien pulled back, stroking her cheek. She knew he was studying her, trying to see her deceit. She leaned up on her toes and kissed him. Then, slapping his face, she watched desire flame in his eyes at the rough play.

  Mia shot him a challenging glare. “I said tell me.”

  Lucien grinned. “Lay down on the bed and I will tell you everything you wish to know, my nymph.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hugh bowed before King Ean. The image of Thomas’ battered body was never far from his mind. How could it be, as only a day had passed spent collecting the bodies of the slain? Thomas’ corpse had not been amongst them. Hugh was no fool as to believe Thomas lived. He’d seen the mangled body, heard the last of his breaths for himself. What Merrick wanted with his brother’s corpse, he couldn’t be sure, but the Unblessed King had taken the body with him.

  “Rise, please, Lord Bellemare,” Ean said. Hugh stood. They were still at camp within the forest. “My men have brought back Thomas’ horse. It will be buried.”

  Hugh nodded. He wasn’t about to argue over a dead horse. It seemed the elfin people had an affinity for animals and treated them with almost as much respect as they did their own kind. “Thank you, Majesty.”

  Ean nodded. “Our war is not over, but your part in it is.”

  Hugh opened his mouth to protest, but Ean held up his hand.

  “I have consulted the wizards. You’re not to fight with us anymore. Go to the Black Palace and do what you must to rescue your sister. I don’t believe Merrick will harm her. I’ll have two of my men show you the way, but they will not pass beyond the front gate.” Ean motioned two of his guards forward.

  “Thank you, Majesty.” Hugh bowed low, his body stiff.

  “You have proven yourself a good man, Lord Bellemare.” Ean stood, walking down to clasp Hugh on the shoulder. He squeezed lightly before letting go. “The blessing on your home stands, so long as your family continues to maintain honorable lives. My advice to you is that you return to Bellemare and live out your days. Should you need my assistance, all you have to do is ask.”