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

by Layla Harper

“We won’t have much to time to get out of here unnoticed.” With the wards gone, all of Rick’s nosy neighbors will be glued to their windows.

  The prince smiles. “In this matter, mate of Rogar, king of the orcs, I can aid your escape.”

  I take the woman’s phone and dial 911.

  17

  Rogar

  I am on my knees, hands magically bound behind my back.

  Aelinor grips my face, claws digging into my cheekbones. Her eyes are fevered, an unhinged rage smoldering in their caramel depths, torching whatever it touches. “You should have sent the raven, Rogar. Now look what you have done.”

  An elf male lingers at her side, his fear dousing the hall in waves.

  Foul magic seeps from her pores, forming a halo of darkness around her. “Your soul calls to me.”

  I flinch and twist my face against her hold.

  “Your Majesty,” the elf croaks.

  She snarls. “What.”

  Quaking, the lanky elf raises a finger and then quickly lowers his hand. “Th-th-the r-r-ritual.”

  Aelinor’s frenzied eyes snap to the male.

  “His b-b-blood must not be t-t-tainted, Your Highness.” He bows his head, shoulders tensing. “He must g-g-g… He must give of his own accord.”

  She releases her grip with a jerk and begins pacing. “We could have been on this journey together. Shared in this victory and brought honor to Regnir. For our mothers. For the wrongs committed against our family. Together, cousin. It could have been our destiny.”

  I say nothing. After the debacle at the ceasg’s lair, Frinhol would have returned to camp to gather his small army as planned. But the ravens I sent to the western continent have yet to reach Khao and Daenestra.

  Perhaps by nightfall?

  Jatta.

  My only weapons are the dagger in my boot, the communication spell I have yet to use, and a stone egg housing the soul of a goddess.

  Blasted ceasg. Her betrayal has cost me my mate.

  “Fae carry secrets, Rogar. All fae do, including the noble king of the orcs.” She circles around me, dragging a single claw across my back. “I wonder, what little gems will I find buried in that virtuous soul of yours? It amazes me what I learn when the barriers of the mind are freed. Shall I take from you, cousin, and see for myself?”

  “The magic controls you.”

  “Pfft. I control me.”

  “You crave my essence. Look how your hands shake. How your heart speeds at the thought. Your tongue may say one thing, but your body betrays you. How often do you wake with no knowledge of how you arrived?”

  “You know nothing.”

  “I know there is a reason our elders banned the use of foul magic. Myrkur’s legacy is proof enough.”

  “Myrkur was slandered and deceived by the same queen who has lied to you for years. And today you will learn of her treachery. Today, her true colors will be revealed.”

  “I understand your pain. Your grief. I know now what it is to lose the better part of your soul.”

  For a moment, her features settle. “Yes. The chasm fills you.” She frowns. “You drown in the pain. It consumes you.”

  I nod and let my grief wash over me. “I know vengeance will not bring Caspian back.”

  “You know nothing,” she screams again before motioning to the two rangy goblins armed behind me. “Bring him to Azgagh.”

  I growl as the males approach. Fighting them is fruitless, but it will give me an outlet for the repressed fury roaring in my veins. It will give me a distraction from the memories pushing at the seams of my mind. The image of Kyra’s beautiful face contorting with understanding and then misery when the reality of my intentions hit.

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

  So fierce, her determination, my lovely mate. Never again will I see those dazzling blue eyes flash with desire.

  Or hear the husky timbre of her voice.

  Aye, the grief is a chasm. One I mold and tunnel toward the fae advancing. I will welcome the strikes when they come.

  “Enough.” Aelinor’s voice cuts through the fracas. “Enough, Rogar, or the wizard pays for your recklessness. And I would prefer not to lose another asset after the loss of the vessel.”

  I roar my misery, bellowing my rage to the rafters. Even my anger she tries to take from me. I jump to my feet, laborious breaths tearing from my throat. “Do not harm another innocent. Free her, and I will yield.”

  “No, this I cannot do. She will play a vital role in Myrkur’s rebirth. I will have your submission.” She walks over to the girl and runs her finger down her face. “I can force your consent. The magic does not care how I obtain your surrender, only that I have it.”

  I gesture to the elf quivering ten paces behind his liege. “Is this true?”

  “Yes. Your blood must be g-g-given freely, but it matters not how it is received.”

  “She is better off dead than in your clutches. We both are. I will not offer you my blood.”

  Aelinor’s mouth thins.

  “Not the answer you expected, is it, cousin?” I throw my head back and laugh.

  Her magic winds around my throat, throttling the laugh until the pressure forces my eyes to tear. I am pushed to my knees. Darkness nears, and at the last minute, the constriction abates.

  She retrieves a lock of hair from her pocket and swings it in the air so the scent filters to my nose.

  My muscles lock.

  “Ah, you recognize to whom this belongs? Good. Did you know one strand of hair is all that is required to brew a locator spell?”

  My gut churns. “You would—”

  “Need a portal?” One silver brow rises to her hairline. “I am a wizard—a wizard with access to another’s power. Please.” She snickers. “A portal is child’s play. You know this.” She smiles, the confident look of victory softening her features. “Come willingly, or I will fetch the human from whatever realm you have sent her to.”

  Aelinor crouches before me, and it takes every ounce of strength not to slam my skull into her face.

  “Rogar, please. We both want the same end goal. Peace. A united Alfhemir. Our realm returned to the glory of our ancestors. A time when magic was abundant and pure. Argomar could be yours. Submit. Better yet, join me.”

  “Never. I will never join you.” I glance to Ilearis. Like Kyra, the girl bears the ravages of captivity. But in addition to the cruelty she suffered at Aelinor’s hands, the dark magic has left her weakened and ill.

  The demon who attempted to save her fares no better. He and the other are imprisoned in the cage behind the girl.

  Jarkil moans from a corner in the room. The male is… unrecognizable. A shell of his former self. And Magda? The vampire skulks not far from her former king.

  My vengeance rises and nearly chokes me. I swallow and retract my claws. I need to buy Frinhol and my allies time.

  “If I submit, I have conditions.”

  Aelinor shakes her head. She hands Kyra’s hair to the elf. “My mage will begin the locator spell. We will speak again when I have the human in my possession.”

  She turns to leave.

  The elf’s stance is pleading. His green gaze darts from me to Aelinor’s retreating back.

  “Wait.”

  My fangs lengthen. My body rebels against what I must do. “Destroy her hair and anything of hers you hold.”

  She snaps her fingers. The hair disintegrates into black ash in the mage’s palm.

  “Is that all? There is no part of Kyra you or any fae associated with you and your cause possess?”

  My former shaman displays empty palms.

  At my silent questioning, the mage nods.

  I bow my head. For Kyra. For Drengskador. “I submit.”

  A peaceful mien settles over Aelinor, one I have not seen since we were children.

  Behind her, the blood drains from the mage’s face, until his pasty skin turns a light gray, matching the frosted glass surrounding u
s.

  Cursed fates.

  What have I done?

  18

  Kyra

  “You’re marrying an orc king?

  There’s no cynicism in Todd’s tone. Only shock. And maybe a little awe.

  I clip the seat belt into the buckle. Please, please, let me get to him in time. “He’s amazing. I’m sorry you won’t get to meet him.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Tirian glances out the window. “How far is this location from the Church of the Holy Cross?”

  I twist in my seat. “The cathedral?”

  “Would there be another?”

  “Actually, there are a ton of churches named Holy Cross in Massachusetts.”

  The elf seems to ponder my comment.

  “If it’s the cathedral, about an hour, give or take.” Todd glances over his shoulder to the seven-foot-tall fae squished in his back seat. “You won’t get in at this time.”

  “What I need is not inside the church.”

  Hold on. “There’s a portal stone hidden at the cathedral?” Has to be. “You’re planning on returning to Alfhemir tonight, aren’t you?”

  “I must. My queen is in danger.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No. Our laws forbid the immigration of humans into Alfhemir.”

  “Your laws are wrong.”

  “Our laws bind our society. They have no bearing on the human world. We have maintained peace within our realm for millennia as a result of Queen Menora’s foresight.”

  I snort.

  Peace?

  There won’t be peace if Aelinor raises her dark sith lord from the dead. Then none of Tirian’s stupid fae laws will matter.

  For any us.

  But insulting the prince outright won’t ingratiate me to the only being who can get me back to Rogar.

  Ugh. Diplomacy sucks.

  “Kyra.” Todd rubs the side of his head. “After what happened at… Are you sure you want to do this?”

  I touch the tattoo stamped inside my wrist. “I made a vow. I can’t stay out of this.” To Tirian, I say, “The Doras Ring is here. In Easton. Why go to Boston?”

  “The Ring of Doras is only an anchor.” He frowns. “And now that the demon’s wards are no more, the anchor must be secured and protected. It cannot fall under human control.”

  Yeah, and everything else Rick hid in his little store.

  Flashing blue lights draw my attention away from Tirian. An Easton PD cruiser corners onto the street and barrels into Rick’s driveway. More lights flash, this time the red and white of the ensuing ambulance. A second police car isn’t too far behind.

  Todd shifts the car into Drive as neighbors, clutching robes and coats to protect themselves from the snow falling in lazy patterns, begin gathering on their front porches.

  “I hope she makes it,” Todd says, looking into the rearview mirror.

  Yeah. Me too.

  “I’m taking you and the elf prince to my place until we figure out what to do next.”

  I nod. It’s not like I have a dorm to go home to.

  Tirian scoffs. “The elf prince has a name. Tirian will suffice, human. And you are?”

  “Todd.”

  “I will remember your part in my rescue, Todd of the Earth plane.” He turns to me, expectantly.

  “I’m Kyra.”

  “The future queen.”

  It feels so weird to be labeled a future anything, especially when Rogar’s life hangs in the balance. Why did he face Aelinor alone? Without his army? Without Frinhol?

  I just want this whole mess to disappear. I want to go back to Drengskador. To our spot by the lake. I want to figure out who I am and what I want from life with my orc king by my side.

  I don’t want to keep doing this life thing alone.

  I press my fingers into my eye sockets.

  “You okay?” Todd asks.

  “Yeah.” I rub my hands against my thighs. “So, what happens to the other women Rick smuggled into Alfhemir? Will your laws help them the way they helped me?”

  There’s a pause, and then Tirian says, “You were imprisoned?”

  “Yep.”

  “I assume the king returned you to this realm?”

  “He did. Out of necessity. He thought it was the only way to save my life.” I fill them in on the rest of what happened in Argomar, minus the fact that I’m a vessel. That little tidbit I keep to myself.

  When I finish, there’s dead silence in the car.

  Todd’s fingers tighten over the steering wheel. He casts me a glance, and I swear, if Rick weren’t dead, Todd would rip his head off bare-handed.

  My throat goes tight.

  “Rogar was certain it was Waur?” Tirian asks.

  “He was. And Rowena too.” I cross my fingers and hope Magda lied about her condition. “The goblins found his body near the castle ruins. They believe he’s under a curse of some sort.”

  Tirian grunts in agreement. “Perhaps another ruse to lure the queen.”

  “Come again?” Todd interjects.

  “The high queen erected the veil to prevent travel between our worlds. It is the Furious Army’s responsibility to monitor and guard the borders.”

  Oh, how I know. I’m well acquainted with the Wild Hunt’s tactics in that regard. “Waur is their general,” I tell Todd.

  “Uh-huh,” he replies.

  “The border wards are meant to alert the high queen of possible breaches.” Tirian sighs. “Several were triggered in a very short period.”

  “And let me guess. They were all to locations where the queen hid Myrkur’s bones, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So how did you end up in Rick’s basement?”

  “When Waur and his army failed to return from one of those missions—”

  I gasp. “The army too?”

  “—I was sent to investigate another breach on the western continent.”

  “Forvarra?”

  “No.” His eyes turn icy blue. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because your sister discovered a human male who didn’t make the crossing. Three months before I was kidnapped.”

  A muscle feathers along Tirian’s jaw. The temperature around us drops by several degrees. “Then this occurred after my capture.” He shakes his head angrily. “The breach was a clever trap. Part of my orders included securing the asset, only instead, I led the demon and his accomplice to the bones.”

  “An ambush.”

  Todd gives me a weird look I can’t decipher. “The wizard’s bones were here, in Easton?”

  “I cannot say. I am oath bound to protect the location.” Tirian squints at the passing scenery, mainly triple-decker rooftops belonging to neighborhoods bordering the highway.

  “The situation is grave.” Tirian leans forward, his knee banging the back of my seat. “Our worlds are in peril. If Aelinor manages to break the blood ward over Azagh, she can begin the ritual to resurrect Myrkur. Evil this great will not remain confined to one realm.” He slumps against his seat, jolting the back of mine again.

  “But she needs the queen’s blood, right?”

  “With Waur incapacitated, the queen’s safety is jeopardized.”

  “It may already be too late.”

  He jerks forward, claws sinking into Todd’s seats.

  “Fuck, man. That’s going to—”

  “Quiet,” Tirian barks at Todd. “Speak, human. What news of the queen have you?”

  “Rogar was… concerned. Frinhol, the goblin king’s former second—it was his people who found Waur—anyway, he told Rogar that night realm warriors patrolled the queen’s fortress. Apparently, there’s some sort of mist blanketing the entire castle. Rogar went off to get a look for himself when Aelinor attacked.”

  “We’re here.” Todd parks across the street from a three-tenement house in a decent part of Brockton.

  The elf in the back seat is ashen.

  We get out of the car.

  “I moved here after gr
aduation.” Todd shrugs. “The new job situation is so-so. I’m full time at the pub and interviewing. Landlady’s a sweetheart. Her family and kids are all grown and moved away, so I do her trash and shovel her snow, and she gives me a break on the rent.”

  He unlocks the entry door. We climb the three flights of stairs quietly.

  “Don’t mind the mess.” Todd lets us into his apartment. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

  The place is pretty neat considering. Todd scoops the few empty cans of Coke and Bud he left on the end table and dumps them into a small blue recycle bin tucked inside a cabinet under the kitchen sink.

  The floor plan is cozy. A decent-sized living room, a small pantry kitchen, three bedrooms, and a dining room.

  In the living room, one wall holds a flat-screen TV, the second has three windows overlooking the street, while the third displays his album collection in black frames. Zeppelin, Metallica, Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, and Ozzy Osborne.

  Where the fourth wall should be are french doors which open into a dining room with a small round table, chairs, and a desk taking up the wall with another window.

  Todd drops his keys in a dish on the coffee table centered between a blue couch and two mismatched chairs. “Help yourselves to whatever you want in the kitchen.” He moves into one of the side rooms and returns with a black T-shirt and a pair of sweats. “It’s the best I’ve got.”

  “Thanks.”

  I shower quickly and change into the clothing Todd gave me. I roll my tattered tunic and leathers and shove them into the trash can by the toilet. The zippered sweatshirt is huge and thankfully hides the fact that I’m braless in the T-shirt. The knit cotton feels so good against my skin.

  I sigh. There are so many things I’ve taken for granted in this life because I’d been too busy proving to myself I didn’t need anyone. I kept Todd—and Sandy—at arm’s length. It took losing Rogar to make me appreciate what I had.

  “Be happy, min droning.”

  I force back the tears and comb my fingers through my hair. I’m one step closer to saving Rogar’s sexy ass than I was two hours ago. I need to stay positive, and I need to keep my mind focused on my end goal.