Fae King's Vengeance (Court of Bones and Ash Book 4)

by Layla Harper

  Magda coughs. “She will not survive her wounds.” She sputters and gasps. “I made sure.”

  “It’s a lie,” I whisper and squeeze Ilearis’s knee. “He would have told me.”

  Aelinor holds up two fingers. “Strike. Strike. Upon the third, you are no more. Send for the goblin king,” she barks. “Now.”

  The elf flinches.

  Magda scurries away.

  Cold brown eyes loop to the cage. “Rogar has been keeping secrets. I sensed his reticence in Lithyr. You know what he is hiding, human. Tell me and perhaps I will not break the child today.”

  The pit in my stomach opens.

  “No?” She motions with her head. “Lower the prisoners.”

  The cage jolts when the bottom hits the floor. The demon opens the gate and waits for orders while Aelinor saunters over.

  I hold my breath, watching for the telltale widening of her nostrils. I’ve been dreading this moment for days.

  “Out,” she orders.

  I steel my spine, exit the cage, and keep walking until I’m a safe distance away. I’m not about to make figuring out what I am easy.

  Aelinor’s eyelids flutter closed. Her nostrils widen and her chest rises.

  Here we go.

  “You.” Her eyes pop open. “You are the aberration. I smell a shaman’s magic. A dreamscape.” She laughs. “How unexpected. Rogar is getting his information right from under my nose. It is because of you the raven has not arrived.”

  Again with the raven?

  She clicks her tongue. “I underestimated him. But you? You are an unexpected surprise.”

  Narrowing the distance between us, she eyes me like she’s trying to figure out where I’ve hidden the remote. “But how? What are you?”

  The doors to the throne room open, spilling bright light into the hall. It’s enough of a distraction to give me a brief respite from Aelinor’s attention.

  Magda enters with a goblin dressed in tattered purple robes, the gold-fringed edge dragging on the ground.

  The confused fae spins around, a lopsided smile on his face. “Did you find it? My crown? I have lost it,” he mutters and swings one hand through the air. Then a growl rips from his throat. He thrusts the other hand forward, fingers gripped like he’s holding the hilt of a sword to fight an invisible enemy.

  Aelinor snaps her fingers. “Jarkil. Come here.”

  The goblin responds to her voice, drawing nearer, his wrinkled face crumpling with confusion. Besides being tattered, his robe is soiled, and he stinks like he hasn’t seen bathwater in years.

  “There is a shaman residing in Frinhol’s encampment. Tell me who he is.”

  “He?”

  “The shaman. Think. Remember what you know.”

  Why is Aelinor questioning the goblin king? He’s clearly disoriented. Wouldn’t Magda know?

  “Shaman?” Jarkil mutters before saying something incomprehensible. “Weeds. Weeds. More weeds. Beware the dark. The dark comes. The dark comes. The dark comes.”

  What happened to him? He has none of Frinhol’s sharp wit. He’s gaunt, his body lean and haggard, stripped of the stocky muscle characteristic of a goblin’s frame.

  But when Aelinor covers his mouth with hers, the reality of what she’s done to him fists me in the stomach. Every feed is an attack on his mind, slowly draining him of life and spirit. It’s a terrible punishment, no matter the sin.

  She ends the kiss, if I can even call it that.

  A hiss leaves the goblin’s mouth, like air leaking from a tire. Jarkil stumbles back, falls on his ass, and then topples to his side.

  Aelinor is oblivious to the scene before her. Neck craned, her head lolls from side to side, eyelids twitching madly. She comes to with a snap of her neck, her gaze eerily unfocused. “No shaman. Yet she reeks of ritual magic. How?” She directs the question to the mage, who looks like he wants to crawl under a rock beside Jarkil. “How can a human communicate with the orc king when her kind has no control over magic?”

  “I reek because I haven’t seen the inside of a tub in days,” I blurt before the mage can say something incriminatory like pointing out I’m a vessel. “It’s called body odor, something you apparently have no experience with since elves don’t sweat.”

  “Yes, my little human liar, elves might not sweat, but you forget our noses are exemplary. I suppose the matter is irrelevant now. You have proven to be steadfast in your loyalty to my cousin.”

  There’s a moment where her expression shifts, and I begin to think I might possibly wiggle out of this mess by the skin of my teeth. But then she circles me, dragging her feet with every step. Tension builds, mounting in the space between us. She jolts, and when the sconces on the walls flare brighter, my hope fades as quickly as it sparked.

  Fuck.

  She knows.

  Aelinor’s head swivels. The ice queen gaze she’s perfected to a science cracks. She sizes me up, looking at me through a completely different lens.

  “A vessel.” She steps closer.

  I tense, ready to clock her if she touches me.

  “Unique and rare. Legendary. Does Rogar know?” She waves a hand. “Of course he does. It is the secret he has been hiding. Myrkur’s greatest asset in his war against the queen. Here.” Awe lights her face. “He blesses our cause from the Otherworld. This.” She opens her arms wide to the empty room. “This is the path to Alfhemir’s future. Let there be no doubt. All will bear witness to my glory.”

  And in the next breath, she bellows, “Be gone. All of you. Out of my sight.”

  The room empties, save for the two demons guarding the cage holding Ilearis, and for whatever reason, Aelinor doesn’t seem to mind their presence.

  Which doesn’t bode well for me or Ilearis.

  Until Rogar arrives, the demons are our last hope. I’ve been trying to bribe them for days. They haven’t budged. But they also haven’t growled at me to shut up. And every night, they fend off drunken goblins wanting a taste of forbidden fruit.

  “Kyra. Be wary.”

  My pulse leaps, and somehow I manage to school my features before Aelinor notices my reaction to Ilearis’s voice. “I know. We have to hang on for Rogar. He’s coming.”

  “There is… an energy. One I have not sensed before.”

  “You fear me?” Aelinor doesn’t move, but the intensity of her focus has quadrupled in the last five minutes. “You have reason to.”

  “It should never have come to this, Aelinor. Never.”

  “Believe it or not, I will grieve the loss of our companionship, and my cousin’s affection. Do not mistake hegemony for cruelty. I did not start upon this path with the purest of intentions, but my aim is noble. My failure is Alfhemir’s destruction.”

  I—

  I believe every word she says.

  “Are you not curious to know how Myrkur picked vessels out from among the throngs of humans he carried over into our world?”

  No. Absolutely not.

  But it’s probably to my advantage to keep her talking. “I thought very little was known about vessels.”

  “Ah, so you have some knowledge. Good. And you are correct. Most of Myrkur’s chronicles were destroyed during the Reckoning. But you see, his journey began in Regnir. My home. And when my father forced him into exile, his bride was captured and held in one of Regnir’s dungeons.

  “Despite my insistence, my mother never revealed the female’s name, and I have yet to discover why the high queen protected this female’s identity. My mother, the ever faithful, dutiful queen, followed the law to the letter with one exception. She could not bring herself to destroy my father’s journals.

  “And it was there I discovered Myrkur’s truth. Tormented by Caspian’s death, I clung to his words. Spells. Decades of accumulated knowledge. All there for the taking. His essence reached inside me and gave me a purpose other than grief and anger. So you see, human, I began upon a path of darkness, one of vengeance, but through Myrkur’s vision of a united Alfhemir, I discovered
the light.”

  The depth of her crazy overwhelms me. I stumble back and crash into the demon’s chest. He steadies me and rights my balance.

  “But I digress.” Aelinor swats her hand in the air as if clearing smoke from her eyes. “Imagine this room filled with human bodies. Row after neat row of unclean flesh. All tranced. All lying on the floor with their eyes open, aware of their surroundings but unable to move.”

  It’s every kids’ nightmare. The monster hiding under the bed who sits on your chest. The stuff that follows you for days after watching a scary movie.

  “Better yet, let me show you.”

  Oh hell no.

  “Run,” Ilearis screams in my head.

  “Hold her still.”

  I make my move, but I’m too slow. The demon’s large hands clasp each of my biceps, holding my struggling body in place

  Aelinor extends a hand. Dark smoke filters from her fingertips, forming a thick rope of magic weaving through the air like a serpent.

  “I almost fear testing you. Rogar will be unmanageable in his grief should his favorite pet die. And I will admit, you pose an inherent danger to a wizard. Soon enough, when the blood ward falls, Myrkur secrets will be revealed.” Her mouth curves into a sinister smile. “And then you and I will get to know each other in ways we never imagined.”

  The magic twists and turns.

  I jump back and push against the demon to avoid the voodoo slithering my way. If it gets inside me…

  I don’t finish the thought. A loud pop sounds in the air, and in the next moment, a fist flies at Aelinor’s face, taking her by surprise.

  I gasp when the demon throws me in Rogar’s arms.

  An enraged Aelinor screams, magic firing off her body like fireworks.

  Rogar shuffles back, turning over a large wooden table he uses as a shield. “The girl,” he bellows to someone out of my range of sight.

  “How are you here?” I scan behind me. And where’s the cavalry?

  “There have been… a few setbacks.” He squeezes my hand. “Protect the girl.”

  “What?” Oh shit. Where’s Ilearis?

  One of the demons pulls her from the cage. His powerful arms wrap around her waist and his wings flap, sending them both soaring into the air.

  Aelinor whips a blast of magic in his direction, a plume of black that barrels toward them like a rocket, encasing them both. The demon curls his wings around Ilearis as they spiral downward, and when he hits, the glass floor cracks from the force of his fall.

  No. “No!”

  “Forgive me.” Rogar’s hands on are my face, redirecting my stare. “I thought I could save you both. You are my world. The air I breathe. I did not know true joy, true happiness, until I found you.”

  Tears brim his eyes while panic flares in mine.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I love you, my beautiful càirdeil.”

  The room explodes in sound. Goblins burst through the door, infiltrating the rear.

  “Welcome, cousin.” Aelinor’s face is streaked with blood. “Quite the entrance. I must say, you have outdone yourself.”

  “Stay where you are.” Rogar pokes his head over the edge of the table. “Call your warriors back, or it will be my dead body you find.”

  Aelinor gives the order.

  “What’s the plan?” I search his face, hating what I see. “We’re not getting out of here alive, are we?”

  “We, no. But you?” He holds the portal stone to my hand.

  I look down, confused.

  “This is not the ending I envisioned for us, female.” His voice is choked.

  It clicks then. This is not happening. “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Remember me. Remember my love. Hold me in your memories, and I will forever live in your heart.”

  “Listen to me, you stubborn orc. I am not leaving you.”

  “If I thought there was any other way to save you, I would take it. You must know this.”

  “Rogar, no. No. No. Not happening.” I attempt to dislodge my hand from his, but he’s gripping my fingers too tightly around the stone.

  His eyes dart to Aelinor and then the goblins at the exit. “We do not have much time.”

  “Don’t do this. We fight her together. We’re in this together.”

  “Live well, Kyra.” His lips find mine, and I taste the goodbye in his kiss. The sorrow. The regret. It shatters my soul into a million pieces.

  “You are my heart. You are my everything.” His mouth moves against my lips. Powerful words lift from his tongue. The air around us shifts.

  A shriek cuts through the haze.

  Aelinor.

  A cloud of black rolls in our direction.

  Rogar releases me and speaks the final word.

  I lunge for him, my hands sailing through air. His image fades—sexy crimson eyes and a half smile that steamrolls over what’s left of my heart.

  “Be happy, min droning.”

  And then I’m swallowed by the darkness.

  14

  Kyra

  I wake up facedown on a cement floor. With a groan, I roll onto my back and suck in one breath after another to stem the portal sickness. When my vision comes into focus, I stare at what looks like an industrial ceiling and then stand. Overhead fluorescent bulbs cast dim light into the space.

  This isn’t my college campus.

  Where am I?

  The room is large, rectangular, filled with dark, boxy shapes in various heights and sizes scattered in no particular order.

  A carless garage used for storage?

  Maybe a warehouse?

  But if I’m in a warehouse, there should be security. An alarm. Little plastic boxes picking up sounds and movement. Except for the overhead sprinklers and the flicker of light from the smoke detectors, I don’t see anything resembling video cameras or motion sensors.

  But it’s dark. I’m human. And…

  “Oh my fucking word.”

  I slap my hand over my mouth and stagger back a step or two, banging into a crate.

  It’s here.

  The freaking Doras Ring looms right in front of me.

  I grip the portal stone in my hand, trying to remember the words Rogar spoke. I don’t know if it’s the distance. Maybe the fucking mark doesn’t work on Earth. I don’t know. But I can’t recall a single word he said.

  “Send me back. Dammit. Send me back.” Blinking through tears, I press my hand against the ring, the metal surprisingly warm against my skin. “Please. Please. Please. Work.” I wait for the vibration. The hum. The weird glowing light.

  My heartbeat wallops against my rib cage. I’m breathing too fast. My fingers are white against the portal stone. “Work. Please work.” I squeeze my eyes shut.

  Picture Alfhemir. Picture…

  Rogar.

  “Remember me. Remember my love. Hold me in your memories, and I will forever live in your heart.”

  Tears stream down my face. Freaking orc. Doesn’t he know? Remembering isn’t good enough anymore. Not after all we’ve been through. Not after being with him. Loving him. I need more.

  I need him.

  How could he leave me?

  No.

  This is not happening.

  I drop the portal stone into my boot. I’m a mess. There’s old blood on my shirt. With the amount of fabric missing from the tunic, I’m half naked by human standards. I can’t just run outside and flag a cop.

  I have to think. My scumbag boss, Rick, is the key to getting back to Alfhemir. The Doras Ring is here. It’s my link to Rick, and Rick is my ticket back to Alfhemir. To Rogar. I have to calm the fuck down. I can’t afford to make any mistakes. My stubborn orc needs me. And I don’t care if the situation is dire and hopeless. I can’t imagine a future without him.

  So… I’ll find a way back.

  There’s bound to be a clue amidst this human junk.

  I snort. Human standards. Human junk. When did I start thinking like fae?

  Sq
uinting, I peer across the room. Large plated windows span the front of the warehouse with retail-style glass doors at the center.

  I rush over, weaving around large crates, nearly tripping over a small box placed haphazardly on the floor. How anyone could find anything in this mess is beyond me. Luckily, I haven’t triggered security. Although, if there is some type of active monitoring, I wouldn’t know the alarm has been activated until the cops arrive at the front door.

  Which isn’t in my best interest. I’m sure after spending hours explaining where I’ve been for the last three weeks, or how I woke up battered and bruised inside a warehouse in the middle of Alfhemir knows where, I’d be quietly escorted to a mental health facility. No questions asked.

  Besides, this isn’t a human problem. It’s a fae issue. And there’s nothing human law enforcement can do to help me.

  I cup my hands around my eyes and look out into the darkened parking lot. A lone car sits about thirty feet away. Traffic moves at a quick pace along a busy route. Across the street, there’s a plaza…

  Wait.

  I read the sign over the weathered building.

  “MacNamara’s? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  I move away from the window. I’m not inside a warehouse after all but a strip plaza across the street from the pub where I’ve spent the last six months tending bar. The Doras Ring has been here all this time.

  Unbelievable.

  Rick must own this building, which makes perfect sense if he’s been using it to store his faerie memorabilia. When I find him, I’m going to nail his balls to the wall. I’m not the same naive girl I was weeks ago. I’m smarter. Determined. And I have so much to fight for, and so much more to lose.

  I scour the warehouse for weapons. Knife. Dagger. A bow and quiver would be awesome. Once I’m armed, I’ll work on getting myself out without attracting notice.

  This building is loaded with artifacts. Stoneware. Paintings. I remove the sheet off a sculpture of a half-naked woman. Rick’s got a fortune stored in ancient relics.

  It’s too quiet outside. Easton is a small town. How are the police not here?

  I remove a dull dagger from a display case filled with ancient blades. The leather sheath looks questionable, so I slip the weapon into the loop sewn into my boot shaft. There’s bound to be a back entrance since a second means of egress is a standard building code requirement. I head in that direction. Rick should have an office and a paper trail for these artifacts.