Sea Fae Trilogy

by C. N. Crawford

  “Would you like to see it again? The old Ys?”

  “How?”

  I closed my eyes and whispered a spell to conjure up the towering oaks from Ys. They gleamed around us, sunlight piercing their leaves. Then, I summoned the music of Ys—the soft, melodic bells tinkling over a driving rhythm.

  When I opened my eyes again, I found that Lyr wasn’t looking at my illusions. He was staring at me, his blue eyes wide. He looked shocked—reverent, almost. It really wasn’t more than a party trick, but I was glad it impressed him.

  “You do remember Ys,” he said quietly.

  “I remember some things. The parts when I wasn’t drunk.” I let the images fade, but the music played on as a sort of distant lullaby. “I don’t suppose you know a spell for warmth?”

  He smiled and lay down on the rocky ground, folding his arms behind his head. He’d hung up his cloak to dry. “I’ll allow you to curl up next to me. You’ll stay warm next to my body.”

  “You’ll allow me to sleep near you? Your arrogance is really insufferable.”

  “You can sleep on the cold rock by yourself, if you prefer.”

  I lay down where I was, against the rocky wall, and hugged myself. “I’d prefer the rocks, thanks.”

  But even as the words left my mouth, I knew they were a lie.

  Chapter 31

  Lyr seemed immensely cocky about the situation, like his warm body was so alluring that I’d just inevitably end up throwing myself at him during the night.

  Pressed against the jagged wall, I hugged myself in my wet shirt. The sound of Ys’s music still chimed quietly around us, and the rain pounded hard against the cave entrance. Slowly, the golden orb of light began to dim.

  Exhaustion started to claim my mind, and my eyes drifted shut. I could sleep here, even with the rain and the rocks and the freezing damp.

  But as sleep took hold, I dreamt of Lyr crawling over to me like an animal. In some of my dreams, I stripped naked while he watched, his divine eyes burning with gold. In other dreams, he prowled over to me and ripped off my clothes. He pulled off my shorts and claimed me on all fours, my spine arched, his teeth on my throat. Our bodies were heated and ripe, moving against each other, and gods, I ached for him. I needed him thrusting in and out of my slick body until I reached a wild inferno.

  I didn’t know what sort of magic this was, because never in my life had I had heated sexual dreams before.

  Worst of all, I woke to find that I’d moved over the cave floor in my sleep—and I’d wrapped one of my legs around his. His magic trembled over my skin, and my thighs clenched around him.

  Then, to my complete horror, I realized my hips were moving against him, and I was licking his shoulder.

  “Did you need warmth?” he asked, looking immensely pleased with himself. “It seems you need something else.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “I just rolled over here in my sleep.”

  His gaze slid down my body, a sensual smile curling his lips. “You were writhing against me.”

  “That’s just what I do in my sleep.”

  “We should sleep next to each other more often, then.”

  I wasn’t about to tell him about the filthy dreams I’d had about him, or my torturous state of arousal—although, judging by the hardness in his pants, he was well aware. My whole body felt hot.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wanted him to pull the shorts off me, to cup my full breasts, and kiss me hard. I didn’t feel like Aenor anymore, just a purely sexual being. I wasn’t letting go of him, either. My breasts pressed against him, and my breath hitched.

  But this wasn’t like me. Don’t let your guard down, Aenor.

  My leg shifted on his length, and he gasped a little. He held on to my waist, his muscles tensing completely. Now, I was staring into the ancient, divine face of the Ankou, and he was looking at me with unrestrained lust.

  The Ankou didn’t scare me anymore.

  He turned, and his arms curled around me possessively, one hand on my bum, the other gripping my hair. He gazed into my eyes with a feral intensity.

  I stared back at him—this sublime, godlike being. His divinity radiated out from him, and awe filled me. This was someone who crossed between the living and the dead.

  And—I reminded myself—that was why he couldn’t be trusted.

  I wriggled out of his grasp, rolling onto my back. My pulse raced, and I was panting hard. I wasn’t exactly moving away from him.

  He propped his head on his hand, eyes burning as he stared at my body. The way he was looking at me made me want to press myself against him all over again. This was, I was starting to think, a losing battle.

  His eyes lingered on my nipples, hard under my wet shirt, then slid down to the tiny shorts. Every muscle in his body went completely rigid.

  I had no doubt that he could feel the desire pouring off my body. Wearing these tight, wet clothes felt like a sexual torture, an excruciating tease, and I didn’t even notice that my fingers had started migrating into the waistband of my shorts, desperate to pull them off.

  He moved over me, planting his hands on either side of my head, knees on either side of my hips. He stared into my eyes with awe of his own—like I was a god.

  “Beautiful.” His low growl skimmed over my skin, a sensual caress. His breathing had changed, shallow and fast. “Divine.”

  An erotic ache pulsed between my legs, hot and slick. My tongue ran over my lips, and Lyr watched it with fascination. I didn’t need to be worshipped. I just wanted him to fuck me hard, hands gripping my ass. I burned with sexual fire.

  “I want to see all of you,” he said.

  My excruciating sexual need made it impossible for me to think clearly, or to remember any of my objections to fucking Lyr. I wanted sex more than I’d ever wanted anything.

  I reached for the hem of my shirt and peeled it off, desperate for him to run his hands over my plump breasts. I dropped the wet shirt to the floor and looked up at him. His beauty still shocked me, even as the Ankou, and desire burned in me. His magic tingled over my body.

  He pressed in, closer to me now. He gripped my waist possessively, thumbs stroking down near my hipbones, sliding under the waistband of the shorts. Warmth pounded in my core, and I let out a low moan.

  He leaned down, brushing his teeth over my neck. This was definitely torture. I needed more friction from him, needed his body sliding fast against mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to pull him down closer to me.

  He managed to keep his restraint, moving slowly. When he licked my skin, my body trembled with pleasure. Then, he moved his lips to mine, kissing me with a wild desperation that slowed into rolling passion. His tongue brushed against mine, and I moaned as his thumbs flicked lower over my hips.

  With a low growl, he pulled away from the kiss, trailing his gaze over my rain-slicked body again. The cave air almost cooled my fevered skin.

  “Divine,” he murmured, and the word trembled over my body in an erotic stroke.

  I reached for the waist of his trousers. I unbuttoned them as fast as I could. As I did, my fingertips brushed against him, and he let out a low sound in his throat.

  Now, it was my turn to stare at his physical perfection, the muscled god before me. My body demanded fullness.

  I needed the shorts off, now. I pulled them off, and Lyr’s ravenous gaze was locked on my body, watching as my legs fell open.

  Now, the look in his eyes had gone from reverent to completely wild as he stared at me naked and aroused, his gaze lingering at the apex of my thighs. The god looked like he was about to become untethered.

  He lifted my wrists over my head, pinning them to the ground with one hand. The other hand palmed my breast, his thumb flicking over my nipple.

  Then, his mouth moved to mine, kissing me so deeply I moaned.

  His hand moved lower in a slow stroke down my sleek skin, leaving hot tingles over my ribs, my waist, my hips. But I needed hi
m between my legs. I’d become nothing but a pool of sexual need.

  “Lyr,” I breathed. “Touch me harder.”

  Lyr seemed to be enjoying his control, drawing it out to make me more wet. With excruciating lightness, he stroked his fingertips between my legs. My thighs opened wider, the slowness making me insane. The cold air on my nipples made them tighten into sensitive points.

  Aching for him, I writhed against his hand, demanding more. Lyr leaned in and kissed me again, deep and sensual. His fingers still made lazy strokes at the slick apex of my thighs, a finger slipping into me to tease me some more. My hips bucked against him, and I kissed him back hard. The soft fullness of my body still ached for more of him.

  I pulled my wrists free from his grasp and wrapped my arms around his neck. Something snapped in him, and he was moving with a different fierceness, now, gripping me under my rear to lift me from the ground. He pushed me against the cave wall. The passion that had built in me was driving me insane.

  “Tell me what you want.” I was a hollow cavern of sexual need, but I wanted him to tell me.

  “I want you, Aenor.”

  “More specific,” I said.

  “I want to fuck you.”

  “So fuck me.”

  He thrust into me, filling me inch by inch. My body clenched around him, pleasure rippling through me.

  I dragged my fingernails down his back, pulling him deeper into me as our bodies merged. Lyr’s magic pulsed around me, stroking my skin. His mouth was on my throat, teeth grazing it. I arched my neck, giving in to him.

  He slammed into me harder, pace quickening, until pleasure erupted in me like a volcano. My nails dug into his back, my teeth in his shoulder like I was claiming him.

  I shuddered against him, my mind stilling to perfect silence.

  With his release, Lyr moaned my name into my neck. Sweat and rain slicked our bodies, and he held me there against the rock as we caught our breath.

  When he looked into my eyes again, I was looking at blue. Lyr again, not the Ankou.

  His lips were curled in a satisfied smile.

  “There you are,” I whispered.

  “I was here.”

  He lifted me from the wall, then carried me to lie on top of him, curled up against him on the floor.

  He wrapped his powerful arms around me, and he murmured into my hair, “Princess Aenor Dahut, rightful heir of the throne of Ys.”

  Curled into his arms, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Quiet, for once.

  Chapter 32

  The rising sun released us from the cave, and we walked until we reached a proper road that took us closer to Jerusalem. Dirt covered my shoes, and I could have blended in well with the homeless people in the local parks. Though the plastic baggie of basil at my waist and the knife strapped to my bare thigh may have set me apart.

  Even shirtless, Lyr still somehow looked like a king, and people in cars gaped at him as he walked past. My gaze kept drifting over to him, drinking him in. Last night with Lyr had been mind-shattering in a way I’d never experienced before. Every time I brushed against his arm, warmth tingled through my body, and I kept finding reasons to move closer to him.

  But I was here for a reason, and I’d stay focused.

  The sun stained the golden stones with tangerine shades as we walked into the old city.

  Now, as we drew closer, I could tell the Winter Witch was right. Slowly, distantly, I could hear the athame—the deep, funereal song of Meriadoc. When I heard the music floating on the wind, I felt a different sort of longing. It wasn’t just power that I wanted from the athame, although I longed for that, too.

  I wanted my mother back.

  I glanced at Lyr as we walked. When he caught my gaze, a faint smile appeared on his lips, and I felt another surge of warmth for him.

  “I hear it growing louder. The Winter Witch was right. About the athame,” I clarified quickly, “not about how I’m going to try to cut off your head.”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, my mood grew darker. If the Winter Witch was correct about the location of the athame, did it increase the likelihood of the death spills from the daughter of Meriadoc prophecy? Would I become demented somehow and try to rule a kingdom of ashes and bones? I kept wondering if the athame would poison me with its power.

  The thought sent a stab of panic through my bones.

  “Lyr,” I began, “are you still concerned about the Winter Witch’s prophecy? The part where I’m fixing to destroy the world?”

  His brow furrowed. “I can’t explain why it would be wrong, but it doesn’t feel right to me.”

  “It doesn’t feel right to me, either, but you said the Winter Witch was never wrong,” I pointed out.

  “Sometimes it can be hard to interpret things.” His blue eyes reflected the morning light. “In any case, if you tried to destroy the world, I’m sure you’d have a good reason.”

  “Right. Like if someone next to me on the bus chewed a banana with their mouth open.”

  “You’d be well within your rights to send the earth into a black hole for that. Anyone would agree.”

  Still, sharp thoughts clawed at the back of my mind.

  Something wasn’t right, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

  “Any chance we can move faster?” he asked.

  “I’d love to. Except then I’d find it hard to follow the sound of the athame. It actually works better if we don’t talk.”

  Lyr fell into silence again, but after a few minutes, I was the one to break it.

  “I need to clarify something. What exactly do we do when we find the athame? Do you think it’s bad if I touch it?”

  “I’ll take it. I’ll conduct the spell to destroy the fuath.”

  He seemed a little too eager.

  A dark part of me chafed at the idea of giving over the athame—the Meriadoc power—to him. It was my athame. It would direct my family’s sea magic. What if he drew power from it and sucked it all away?

  “Lyr,” I said again, “athames are used to conduct power, but they can store it, too. I mean, do you think I could get some of it back? For myself?”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I don’t know. But that’s not our primary objective.”

  I gritted my teeth. Not his primary objective. Nor was it mine, I supposed, but gods, I wanted that power.

  The city seemed to grow older around us as we walked, the buildings of golden stone.

  “Once I find this athame and give it over to you, I’ll be handing over something clearly very important, with the power to defeat spirits, and it belongs to my family. To me. Are you hiding anything else important from me? Because I mostly trust you, now.”

  Thorns grew in the silence, until at last he spoke. “I will support you to reclaim the throne of Ys like you deserve. That’s all you need to know. And now, all we need to think about is finding the athame. Because once we destroy the fuath, we can get Gina back.”

  “That’s not all I need to know.”

  I wasn’t even sure I wanted the throne. After years of being vulnerable, I wanted my power back. I wanted to feel that soul connection to the sea once more. But did I want to fight to rule a kingdom of people I hardly knew, who thought I was an idiot? They’d been very quick to believe I was a monster, and I didn’t particularly feel like expending the effort to convince them.

  I didn’t need a kingdom. I just wanted safety, wealth, and the power to control the seas. Was that so much to ask?

  Still, with Gina held captive, waiting for me, this wasn’t the time to argue about a magical object. Lyr was right about one thing: we needed to keep our minds sharply focused before the fuath disrupted us again.

  I followed the Meriadoc song up a stone staircase set into a hill. We were crossing inside the ancient walls that surrounded the old city. People were moving around, drinking coffee, eating pastries.

  The song was growing louder, and I increased my pace, my heart racing.

  Then, Lyr
froze, sniffing the air. When he whirled, my stomach lurched.

  I turned to see four of the possessed knights running up the hill for us, swords drawn. I recognized Melisande and Gwydion among them, but I didn’t know the names of the other two.

  I pulled my dagger from its sheath. Then, I whispered an attack spell and magic sparkled down my arm.

  Lyr shot me a quick look. “Don’t fight, Aenor. Run. Just find it for me.”

  For me. I noted his word choice.

  His shadowy demigod power curled off his body, sending a jolt of dread through my blood.

  “Will you be able to track me?” I asked.

  “Yes, and I’ll take care of the other knights while you go.”

  I pivoted and took off at a run. I turned sharply off a cobbled road onto a narrow path—too small for cars, crammed on either side with shops selling coffee or scarves or baubles. A stream of people were moving up and down the street, blocking my way.

  It was hard to track the athame at this pace, but I needed to get far away from the fuath. Once I’d found a place to hide, I’d slow down again until I could properly track the athame.

  A shadow loomed above me, and for a moment, I thought it was just one of the ancient arches above the narrow road. But when it moved, I realized Melisande had found me. She was swooping above me in circles, her orange wings beating the air. Around me, humans screamed. I sprinted faster, pumping my arms.

  I careened down the sloped alley, trying to dodge passersby. I veered away from a woman with a stroller, knocking into a table of sweets. The shop owner shouted at me.

  Mentally, I tried to stay focused on the sound of the athame, but it was nearly impossible while I was running wildly through tiny medieval streets crammed with shoppers. Melisande hadn’t come back again, but I wasn’t letting up my pace.

  Gods have mercy. Where could I hide here? The little shops around me were like traps.