Fae King's Hunger (Court of Bones and Ash Book 2)

by Layla Harper

  His eyes—a turbulent vortex sucking me of all willpower—meet mine. He runs a clawed thumb down my cheek, the gesture so tender that tears spring to my eyes, choking the apology I want to speak.

  “Your Highness.” Rowena’s voice cuts through the lust in my veins like a blast of cold air. “Welcome to what remains of Lithyr.”

  Rogar tenses. He tucks me behind his body and slowly turns to confront the norn sporting the same hair-raising expression she’d worn earlier. She appears unable to cross the ward. Flanking her is the troll who’d held Rogar off the ground by the throat.

  “You surprise me, Rogar, king of the orcs. A rare feat, I must admit.” Her black gaze swings between us like a pendulum. “It would seem concern is a great motivator.”

  The troll snickers. “A motivated orc is a dangerous orc.”

  “Rowena.” A rumble rolls through Rogar’s body. “You have—

  “Yes, yes.” She flicks her wrist as if brushing lint off her shoulder. “Much to answer for. I know. I know.” She stoops and lowers what looks like folded laundry to the floor. “Riders approach from the west. They carry winter’s banner.”

  Rogar takes a huge step forward. “What proof have you?”

  She smirks. “More than whispers. Gather yourself together and then come find me.” She tosses me a look over her shoulder. “And earthling, do not forget the charm. I have much to barter with your savior before your enemies reach us.”

  Rowena takes off down the hall. The giant troll remains, arms crossed, tree-trunk legs spread, and his face angry. He reminds me of one of those stone statues protecting the entrance to a Buddhist temple. He gestures to the necklace on the table with a snap of his chin. “Amulet.”

  “Fine.” I grab the necklace. The chain is wide enough to slip on over my head. The charms fall flat against my sternum and nestle between my breasts. A hot prickling sensation runs over my skin.

  A breath hitches in Rogar’s throat, his face twisting with disgust. His fingers latch around the amulet.

  “Don’t.” I place my hand over his to stop him from yanking the necklace from my neck.

  Rogar drops his hand and turns to the open doorway. “Be gone, Gerd, or so help me…”

  The troll’s lips pull back to reveal large, sharp teeth. How he hides those nasty choppers in his mouth without biting off his tongue is beyond me.

  A sinister growl emits from Rogar. The troll drops a hateful glare promising loads of torment and agony before he finally departs.

  Rogar turns around, his intense gaze focused on me.

  “Take it off,” he says softly. “I wish to see you, Kyra, and only you.”

  Chapter Five

  Rogar

  Like a feral beast, I had barreled into the room, stalking her until she had nearly fallen over a chair. One would think the startled expression on her face would have snapped some sense into my head. But no. I am standing here, breathing fire, demanding she remove the amulet I dragged her halfway across the Forest of Night to obtain. From a norn, no less.

  If she stabs me in the heart, it would be no less than I deserve.

  Jatta.

  I head over to the damaged door and set it against the frame as best I can. A futile endeavor. The splintered wood will do little to guard her privacy from the fae on the other side of the wall who would do her harm.

  Before I can apologize, Kyra lifts the amulet over her head and slips it into her pocket. Gone are the pointy ears so like mine, the hair a near match to Aelinor’s, and the silver-blue eyes of winter. In their stead is my càirdeil, rich brown hair wet and darkened, eyes the clear blue of the Sea of Storms, and glistening pink skin begging for my kiss.

  Her beauty is a punch to the gut, one that robs me of breath and mind. I scrub a hand across my face and will my heart to resume beating.

  “Rogar.” She gasps and rushes over to grab my arm. “You’re bleeding.”

  I let her herd me across the room, her clasp gentle around my bicep.

  “What happened?” She maneuvers me into the chair set between a tray of food and the tub and then reaches for the towel discarded on the floor by my feet. “Well?”

  “I encountered a few of Rowena’s guards.”

  “A few?”

  I shrug. “A few. We… danced.”

  Her mouth curves into a smile. “I take it they didn’t like your two-step?”

  “Two-step?”

  “It’s a line dance. Forget it.” Kyra dunks half the towel into the tub, then wrings out the excess water. “I’m going to clean the cut over your eye.”

  “Not necessary. The wound will heal.”

  “Good. Then this will help it along.” Unperturbed by my gruff response, she steps between my legs.

  The chair’s height has us at almost eye level. Her scent wraps around me, cutting off my air supply like the sweetest form of torture. I swallow and coax my body to behave, but my cock refuses to listen.

  Searching her face, I ask, “Are you sure you are not injured?”

  By Ulda, if Rowena or her blasted troll laid one hand on my mate, I swear to the ancestors they will—

  “No. I’m fine. Now stay still. This might sting a little.”

  I snort. Nothing she could possibly do to me now would hurt.

  Kyra’s left hand cradles the side of my head. With her lower lip caught between her teeth, she dabs at the cut, the cloth brushing against my skin in soft strokes. “How did you find me—I mean us?”

  I smell drueberry on her breath. Her heat grazes my skin, teasing the groan hovering on the edge of release. It takes a moment for her question to register. I clear my throat. “I followed your scent.”

  “All the way here?” Her voice is tinged with disbelief.

  “Not entirely.” The bloody witch had me running in circles. “The norn covered her tracks well.”

  “She is something.” Kyra furrows her brows in concentration and eases closer, tilting my head back. “Other than Rowena and the troll, I haven’t encountered anyone but a young woman named Ilearis.”

  She pauses.

  I get the feeling there is more she wants to say about this female, but she purses her lips and resumes swiping at my skin.

  “Gauron wasn’t with us. But I think he’s okay. Rowena offered to take me to see him before you arrived.”

  I nod because, this close to her, I cannot find my voice.

  Kyra refolds the cloth and begins cleaning my upper cheek. “In case you’re wondering, they’re holding Aelinor in a cell down the hall. Rowena separated us.” Her strokes grow firmer as her agitation increases. “Supposedly for my protection. But I don’t know. I feel like there’s more behind that decision. More she’s not telling me.”

  There is.

  My stomach sours. Kyra needs to learn of the bond. And soon. But not from a stranger who wishes her harm. No, she must hear the truth from me.

  “Rogar.”

  I open my eyes, shocked I had closed them to begin with.

  “I—” She lowers her arm, the cloth caught between tense fingers. “I owe you an apology.”

  “No you do not.”

  “Yes I do. I shouldn’t have fought you. I shouldn’t have run.” Her words are rushed and choked. “I—”

  “Shh, female.” Before she can shrink back, I grasp her hands and bring the insides of her wrists to my lips. Softly, I kiss her pulse when all I want to do is crush her body to my mine and use my mouth to chase away the guilt visible in her eyes until we are both panting, too lost in our desire to feel anything else.

  I release one slender hand and caress the side of her face. “You did nothing wrong. Do you understand? You did nothing wrong. I should have warned you. I should have prepared you for what was to come. It was my duty. It was I who failed you.”

  “You’ve already done more than anyone else in my entire life ever has.” With a shake of her head, she bites the inside of her mouth and steps back, retreating from my hold. “Rowena is going to use your honor against you. I
won’t be a party to that.”

  I rise. “Let me handle Rowena.”

  “I think you’ve handled enough. I have the amulet, and by your reaction, I’d say it works. So… go back to your kingdom. Take care of you and your people. I’ll find a way to get back to the portal on my own.”

  It is what I should do. What an honorable king would do for his subjects. But every instinct renounces the idea. “You will not return to the portal without me.”

  Shifting her weight, Kyra crosses her arms and levels me with a sharp look. “I am not one of your minions. You can’t just bark out an order and expect me to obey.”

  “Female, setting off on your own is a death wish. The Hunt’s riders can be anywhere.”

  She uncrosses her arms. “Fine. Then I’ll find someone else.”

  Raw panic rattles against my rib cage. “I am familiar with these lands.”

  “Look, I’m grateful for all you’ve done, Rogar. Really I am, but…” Ignoring me, she glowers at the fabric twisting in her hands. “Helping me puts you and your friends in danger. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t afford to worry about anyone else but me right now.”

  “Kyra.” I soften my voice. “The situation is more complicated than it appears.”

  “So tell me what’s going on. Life isn’t going to miraculously uncomplicate itself. Quite the opposite, don’t you think?”

  Her assessment is accurate, but how much of my past can I disclose without completely destroying her faith in me? I rub my eyes. The last thing I want to do is argue with my càirdeil. If I could, I would grant her every wish, fulfill her every dream. But allow her to withdraw to find the portal with another fae in tow?

  Over my dead body.

  I twirl a finger in the air. “This manor once belonged to autumn. Before the war, it was the queen’s respite.”

  She cocks her head. “Your aunt the queen?”

  I nod. “Aelinor and I spent much time here as children. After the war, this and most of the southern lands were stripped from the western courts and redistributed as punishment for their involvement in the failed coup against our high queen.”

  “Hmm.” She drops the wet cloth in the tub and dries her hands against her hips. The front of the flimsy white tunic clings to every inch of her damp skin, highlighting the swell of her breasts.

  Swallowing hard, I turn around and examine the crumbling walls, too aware of the soft feminine body at my back.

  “So Lithyr wasn’t always run by Rowena?”

  “No.” A walnut chest sits wedged in the corner. I walk over and open the lid.

  “And Drengskador once belonged to autumn?”

  Clever, clever female.

  I smile. “Portions, yes, and the rest belonged to the winter realm.” Digging through the linens and clothing stored in the chest, I pull out a blue woolen cloak and return to where she’s standing with her head inclined and her arms crossed.

  “You believe my kidnapping has something to do with your history with these kingdoms.”

  “I do.” I shake out the fabric and fling the cloak over her shoulders. A slightly musty scent clings to the folds. Keeping my eyes from drifting to her mouth, I adjust the length over the front of her luscious curves and reluctantly clasp the fastener at her neck, shielding her body from my inspection.

  “What you’re really saying, in the most roundabout way, is that I can’t trust anyone in all of Alfhemir because someone is using me as a pawn in a political vendetta targeted against you.”

  In a nutshell. “It would appear so.”

  She steps around me. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why the secrecy?”

  “Until recently there was not much to disclose. A hunch, nothing more.”

  “And now you have proof?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then what? I may be human, but that doesn’t mean I’m ignorant. I’m a political science major. I have some exper—” Her hand snaps to her mouth. “Oh, the riders from the west. Tyrone? Tiam? Tyrell?”

  “Tyerim.” My so-called ally.

  My teeth grind. Yet another misstep I will have to deal with after I have returned my mate to the human realm.

  Kyra moves to the table and lifts the pitcher from the tray. She sniffs the contents and then sets the container down. Her shoulders tense. Without turning around, she says, “This isn’t the outcome you were hoping for, huh?”

  “No, but I knew the risks when I sent the message.”

  “Still.” Turning from the table, she avoids my gaze and wanders the short distance to the tub. “What are you going to do?”

  “What I always do.” I watch the up-and-down movement of her hand rubbing against her arm. “Defend what’s mine.”

  Her gaze lifts, and for a second I’m mesmerized, caught in the cerulean beam until her pupils go wide. Some unknown emotion flares behind those guarded pools, and even shielded by the cloak, I can see the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. She looks away and clenches her jaw, leaving me bewildered.

  What just happened?

  A wave of helplessness sweeps over me. I shove my hands in my pockets. “Kyra?”

  “How much time do we have?” She threads steel into her voice, almost daring me to push the issue.

  I relent. “The norn has this colony well protected by illusion, but if I were to guess, I would say half a day’s ride.”

  Kyra drags the back of her hand across her forehead. “That’s not a lot of time.”

  I say nothing.

  She unclasps the cloak’s tie and drapes the fabric over her arm. “You should eat something before they get here.”

  I glance at the table.

  “Sorry.” She juts her chin at the tray. “I devoured the fruit. That’s all that’s left. You’re welcome to it.”

  She’d consumed none of the dried meat and no wine. “Fruit alone is not sufficient nourishment. You must eat the kottpinne.”

  “Trust me, I’m all set with the shutpin-nah or whatever that is. Besides, I’m not the one who battled trolls to gain entrance into this little slice of hell. Seriously, eat what’s left. I’m not hungry.”

  I pour wine into a cup and offer her the glass.

  Kyra shakes her head and crouches against the side of the tub. “I hope you have a plan to deal with Tyerim.” She dips her fingers into the bath, her eyes following the path she traces across the water’s surface. “Do you?”

  I guzzle the wine in one shot and set the glass on the tray. “Whatever happens with Tyerim, I will ensure your safety. You will not be harmed.”

  She lifts her head, and my heart sinks when her eyes shutter. Her lips part, and then she flicks her fingers angrily in the air, spraying water droplets across the tub.

  “Is that what you think? That I’m worried about me?” She stands and shoots her hands in the air, the cloak falling to the floor. “I’m not a complete asshole, Rogar. I’m worried about you. And Gauron. And even freaking Aelinor. If there’s an army heading in our direction, how are the three of you going to circumvent a bunch of bloodthirsty fae soldiers on a mission to kill me?”

  She cares.

  She more than cares.

  Squaring her shoulders, she fists her hands at her sides while the rest of her vibrates with perceived indignation. “Seriously,” she bellows. “Is that what you think?”

  If my fiery mate knew the effect her anger has on my body, she would blush from head to toe.

  “My apologies, female.” I bow my head. “It would appear I am the ass pit.”

  Her lips quirk. “It’s asshole. And no, you’re not. You didn’t ask for any of this.” The anger drains from her voice.

  “You are not to blame,” I say quietly.

  She bats a hand, stirring the air in front of her face. “Oh no? You wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for me.”

  “I chose to be in this situation.” And I would do it again a hundred times over. “Kyra, no one forced my hand. And if you recall, my advisors were quite adamant in
voicing their disapproval of my decision.”

  “Oh, I remember.”

  “I chose not to listen then, and I choose not to listen now.”

  “Because you’re an idiot king.” Kyra drags the back of her hand across her forehead. “In fairy tales that’s what idiot kings do. They ride off into the sunset saving innocents while the villain plots in the background. Trust me, I grew up on these stories. I know what I’m talking about. You can’t help yourself. It’s hardwired into your system.”

  She spins around and marches to the broken door. “Now let’s go find the fairy godmother who’ll wave her magic wand and fix everything.”

  “Your tales are incorrect.” I follow her across the room, stopping her before she can hurt herself heaving the heavy oak from the frame. “There are no fairy godmothers in Alfhemir. Only crones and witches and norns who would rather tear an orc’s heart from his chest than save his… horde.”

  Kyra lets out a sad sigh. “Doesn’t sound very different from home.”

  I lean closer and slide the back of my hand down her cheek. “My world is nothing like yours. You are not safe here.”

  Voices sound on the other end of the hall.

  I drop my hand. “There is much we must discuss, but not here. What can you tell me of the norn’s defenses?”

  Kyra shrugs. “Not much. She’s warded some of the rooms. Aelinor’s cell. This room. I’ve seen the troll and the girl, Ilearis. Be careful, Rogar. She’s powerful. She heated the bath with magic and squashed Aelinor to the wall from the doorway, barely breaking a sweat while doing it.”

  I had feared Rowena had a wizard in her midst. Kyra’s words confirm my suspicions.

  “I will deal with Rowena’s wizard.” I take Kyra’s hand. “Come, we must find Gauron.”

  “Wait.” She tugs back. “There’s something else I think you should know. Maybe it’s nothing but…” Her embarrassment is palpable.

  Nothing she can say will change my opinion of her. My female is strong, brave, and tenderhearted. “What is it?”

  “It’s… I get the strangest vibe from Rowena. This is going to sound crazy, but in a weird, twisted way, I get the sense she’s on our side, which frankly is outrageous because, duh”—Kyra’s hands fly up, indicating our surroundings—“look at where we are. Crazy, right?” Her face flushes pink. “Forget it. Forget I said anything.”