Claimed By The Fae King (Mated To The Fae King Book 4)

by Bailey Dark

  “Have you considered fucking in the empty building, or will you insist on doing it in the street like a pair of dogs in heat?” Thal drawls.

  I start, almost dropping the woman in my arms. She clings to me, holding me tighter. I glance over my shoulder, vision hazy. Slowly, Thal comes into focus. His green eyes are filled with anger, lips twisted into a look of disgust. And at his side, is Verity. I feel as if I’ve been doused in cold water. Everything becomes clear, the fog over my mind disappears and there’s a chill in my heart. She looks petrified, eyes impossibly wide, her shoulders curled in on herself.

  “We don’t mind an audience, do we, Altair?” Erzur says. I can hear the smirk in her voice and the sound of it has desire rearing in me once again.

  I shudder and shake my head, trying to clear it. I don’t understand. Erzur wiggles out of my arms and drops to the ground with ease. She cocks her hip, eyes locked on Verity’s in a silent battle. I gape between the two of them, trying not to sway on my feet.

  Verity spins away, ramming her shoulder into Thal accidentally. She sprints into the alleys, disappearing behind a corner. I stand, shocked and confused, beside Erzur. Her hand slips up my arm, as if to comfort me, and she tucks her chin on my shoulder.

  “You aren’t going to do anything?” Thal asks, looking dumbfounded.

  I shake my head mutely. I know what Verity is feeling right now. It’s the same sensation of jealousy, hatred, and confusion that I felt when I saw her kiss Sadal in my gardens. She was equally under his influence as I was under Erzur’s. My gaze drops to the vial, now neglected in the sand and I feel a wave of nausea.

  I manage to turn away in time to avoid vomiting over Erzur’s shoes. I heave up everything I’ve ingested in the last day, including Erzur’s potion, spilling it onto the sand. She cries out in disgust and Thal stares at me, appalled.

  His coldly furious gaze darts between Erzur and me and he shakes his head. "I once told Verity to trust you, to be patient with you. But you don't deserve her."

  He stalks away. I drag my sleeve over my mouth, breathing hard. Tears swim in my vision from the force of my vomiting but I blink them back. I can feel Erzur watching me, wondering if I’m still under her influence. I try to summon the will to be angry, but I feel nothing. It’s too late now. Verity saw what she saw. And perhaps it was best that she witnessed my unwilling betrayal. Perhaps now she’ll hate me so completely it will be easier for her to let me go.

  Erzur’s fingers drift over my shoulder, as if to draw me back, but I wrench away from her. Feeling tired in my bones, I stride away from my future wife. Shoulders hunched; I head deeper into the ruins. There’s still some daylight left and time to search. Erzur doesn’t follow me, and I’m grateful for that. Eyes glossy, I wander through the city until the sun begins to set. Only then do I realize I’ve been avoiding facing Verity. But night is coming, and I’ve found nothing.

  I have nothing.

  Chapter 16

  Verity

  I stare into the flickering flames just outside the building we’ve made camp in. They lick at the velvety darkness, pushing it back, but the darkness still pushes in at it. In the embers, I see Erzur twisted around Altair, her full lips over his. I’m cold despite the flames. A loud pop breaks the silence in the camp as one of the logs snaps and the fire settles. I draw my knees up to my chest, making myself small and shielded.

  “Are you alright?” Serus asks, somewhere near my feet.

  I nod even though my red-rimmed eyes give me away. “Fine,” I mumble.

  Serus’s tail flicks out over my ankle, as if to comfort me. “I know your thoughts, Bloodbane. I’m unsure what to do. Do you require verbal assurances?”

  “No,” I say, snorting mirthlessly. “Let’s just focus on something else.”

  “I see,” Serus says. I see his amber eyes catch the firelight. “Such as?”

  I sigh. “I would kill to be watching reality TV right now. Something mindlessly entertaining.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen how much you enjoy such entertainment,” Serus agrees.

  I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips at Serus’ attempts to be human. “I’m fine, Serus, really.”

  There’s a sharp howl in the distance, cutting through the night air. I glance up from Serus and over the flat roofs of the surrounding buildings. A shiver trails down my spine, like a spider dancing over my skin. I grip my arms, fingers digging into my own flesh. Thal and Moritz are both on guard duty, stationed at separate ends of the camp. I search for Thal, and when our eyes meet, he gives me an encouraging wink. My shoulders relax and I try to convince myself there's nothing to be frightened of. Except whatever ghosts and spirits haunt this place.

  I catch sight of a red cloak from the corner of my eyes as Cleo takes a seat beside me. I edge away unconsciously, still nervous to be around my supposed mother. She withdraws a small scroll where our notes on Altair’s curse have been scribbled. My tongue flicks out over my lips at the sight of my own handwriting, so desperate and eager to save a man who would betray me.

  "I think we're close," Cleo murmurs. "I've spoken to the old witch, she says your magic is strong, more akin to the ancient kind. You may be the key to ending his curse permanently."

  “What do you mean ‘ancient kind’?” I ask, brows furrowing in confusion.

  “Old magic is the magic of names, familiars, scrying, and runes. New magic is blood and potions and spells,” Cleo explains, her blue eyes locked on mine. “I’ve seen what you do, and I believe the old crone is correct.”

  I chew the inside of my cheek. “I use blood to make it work.”

  “So, you need a little help.” Cleo shrugs.

  “So you’re saying a spell or a potion won’t be able to break the curse Maaz put on him?” I ask, tilting my chin down.

  Cleo nods. “It isn’t strong enough. Maaz liked the old magic too, though she was never very good at it.” Cleo smirks. “She thought it made her more appealing to Sadal.”

  I grimace. I almost feel bad for Maaz; no one was as desperate as her for Sadal’s affection. “I don’t know how to create a rune, or how to employ anything beyond what I read in the Bloodbane text – and none of that was powerful enough to tackle something like this,” I say.

  “We use symbols and intersect them to mean something greater. It’s like writing a sentence, or a word.” Cleo reaches for a piece of charcoal and scratches three intersecting symbols on the paper. “This is the rune to call someone to death’s hands.”

  “To kill them,” I clarify, heart pounding. She nods. I feel almost sick. That was too fast, too simple to be so deadly.

  “I can’t make the run to save Altair for you, but I can show you the steps,” Cleo says.

  For the next hour, Cleo shows me different symbols and I jot down the ones I feel most drawn to. She says my intuition will be my guide, even if I don’t have the knowledge. She peers over my shoulder as I etch out the run spell. I close my eyes as I draw, letting the magic pull my hand in different directions. I picture Altair in my mind, trying to focus on my will to save him instead of the pain he brought me today. When I open my eyes again, I feel a sheen of sweat on my forehead, and my hand is cramping from the drawing.

  Cleo looks at my rune with a smile on her lips. “This will do,” she says. Her eyes go hard and serious. “After you have drawn it on him, there is one final thing you must do.”

  I pale when she tells me. And when she presses the tool into my hand I feel nauseous. “I can’t,” I say, voice trembling.

  “You can, and you must,” Cleo says sharply. “It’s the only way.”

  “What if it doesn’t work?” I protest. “What if I’ve done it wrong?”

  Her pale blue eyes are cold, unfeeling. “That’s a risk you will have to take.”

  I understand now how Cleo could send me away, not knowing if I would be taken care of. I understand how she could linger in the shadows for a thousand years, waiting for the opportune moment to challenge the two people she hated m
ost in the world. I press my lips into a thin line and clutch at the rune in my hand. I don’t want to be like her, but I admire her strength.

  “I found dinner,” we hear Erzur drawl as she steps into the light. She holds up a bundle of rats tied together by their tails and smirks. “Who wants to skin them? Verity?”

  My fingers curl around an imaginary neck. I open my mouth to speak but Cleo retorts first. Her eyes are narrowed like slits, shooting daggers at Erzur. I feel a thread of fear in my chest at the sight. “I thought you and your sun soldiers at animals raw, fur and all?” She sniffs haughtily. “How disappointing.”

  Erzur curls her lip in disgust. “You Bloodbane should have never been allowed to exist,” She spits. “You’re an abomination.”

  The old Bloodbane witch appears behind Erzur, moving silently across the sand. She wears a sweet smile, but I sense her cunning. “Come, Queen Erzur, let me help you skin the creatures. I’ll tell you your fortune in their innards.”

  The Bloodbane leads Erzur away, despite the ebony woman’s protests. I smirk after her, imagining the gore that awaits her. Though I don’t doubt Erzur finds some pleasure in blood and slaughter.

  Cleo eyes me. “You should never be duped by that woman’s poor attempts to make you doubt yourself,” she says softly.

  I shift uncomfortably. I’m not looking for any motherly advice. “I know,” I say finally.

  “When Maaz and I became Bloodbane, I thought I was special,” Cleo murmurs, looking off into the distance. “I only made the oath for the power, but then I met Sadal. He was intoxicating and charming. He made me feel like I was the only woman in the entire realm who mattered to him. I felt so lucky.”

  Her words strike a chord in me. My thoughts flash back to my days with Sadal in Altair’s palace, when I thought he cared for me more than anyone else. I felt drunk on his affections. It makes my heart twist angrily now.

  “But then there came a day when Sadal showed me his true colors. He showed me he could never care for anyone truly.” Cleo cuts her eyes towards the building where Sadal is chained and a cruel smirk pricks at her lips. “He was with Maaz, flaunting in front of me. I spent a few hundred years chasing him after that. What a fool I was.”

  I laugh softly. “Every woman has done that at least once.”

  “Then I met your father.”

  I freeze, lips clamped shut, eyes wide. I feel as if someone has thrown me into an ice-cold lake. Not now, I plead silently, not here. I don’t want to know of this. As if she can sense my trepidation, Cleo clears her throat.

  “I tell you this because some men are not worth your time and your sorrow.” Her gaze drifts towards Altair, only now returning to camp. “I’m not sure the same is true of Altair.”

  Before I can respond, Cleo rises smoothly and drifts away towards the old witch. I bite my lip, eyes on Altair. His hair is mussed, clothes rumpled and loose. There are bags under his eyes and sorrow in his hazel irises that I've never seen. I bury my hands in the cool sand, dislodging Serus momentarily. He hisses half-heartedly before returning to his vigil of the night. I spent the better part of an hour crying after seeing what he had done with Erzur, only Thal could draw me out of it. But I wonder if it’s weighed on Altair just as much.

  I glance down at the runes on the paper in my fist. I can feel my heart aching to be with him, to just speak a few words with him. But I still feel the pain, as fresh as it was before the sun set. He and I can’t be together, I remind myself fiercely. I need to remember that before I let myself fall back into old habits. Even if it makes my heart ache. Even if it feels like I’m tearing off one of my own limbs. I have to let him go.

  I push myself to my feet, brushing the sand from my trousers. Squaring my shoulders, I take a deep breath and remind myself that he and I are nothing. We have nothing between us. No baggage, I lie. He sees me coming, and his eyes light up for an instant before growing sorrowful again. I bite the inside of my lip, wishing I hadn’t met his gaze.

  “Verity,” he says hoarsely. His hands hang limply at his sides, as if he isn’t sure what to do with them.

  I can feel Erzur’s gaze on me from across the camp. “I may have a way to break the curse," I say stiffly. "Cleo, the first Bloodbane, and I have been working on it. Would you like to try it?”

  “I’m not sure.” He sounds hesitant, eyes squinted with worry.

  “Altair.” My voice is soft. “You haven’t got much time. We can all sense it on you.”

  He closes his eyes, brows furrowed. “Alright.”

  “Good,” I say. And I mean it.

  I lead him to the fringe of the camp, out of sight except for Thal. He lifts his chin, tossing me a silent question. I give him a double thumbs-up, forcing a smile to my lips even though my heart is tearing itself in two. Thal knows, he sees past me every time. His eyes tell me so. Altair drifts to a halt behind me, looking defeated.

  “What do I have to do?” Altair asks.

  “It’s what I do,” I say, turning to him. I clear my throat. “Take off your shirt.”

  “What?” He blinks at me.

  I wave a hand. “Take off your shirt.”

  Hesitantly, Altair tugs the cotton tunic over his head, letting it drop to the ground. I run my tongue over my lips, trying unsuccessfully not to stare. His chest is chiseled and hard, sharp muscles carving lines into his flesh that I could trace my fingers over all day. He’s thinner than he was before we started the journey, but we all are. My heart is racing, heat flushing through me. I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the paper in my hand.

  “Now what?” He asks, his voice rough with emotion and fatigue.

  “Lay down,” I say, dropping my gaze.

  He obeys without hesitation this time and I kneel beside his chest. His eyes are on me, but there’s no desire or arrogance in his gaze. I close my eyes, trying to calm myself. I need to draw the magic to me. The blood will help. But my own fear could stop me from drawing on the magic of the runes. I bite back a hiccup as I try to convince myself of what I have to do next.

  Breathing deeply, I draw a dagger from my waistband. I finally meet Altair’s eyes and furrow my brows fearfully. “This will hurt.”

  Altair hisses as I make my first cut across his chest. I do my best to ignore the quiet, subdued sounds of his pain, but my fingers are shaking. I carve the runes into his chest, being careful not to dig too deep. In the distance, I see Thal watching us worriedly. I wonder if he thinks I’m punishing Altair for what happened earlier. But seeing his sorrow was punishment enough. I grit my teeth, trying to work faster before I lose my nerve.

  Blood drips down his ribs and pools in the lines of his muscle. I watch it spill into the sand, making little red clumps. Altair’s hands are clenched into fists at his side, his teeth bared while he bites back a shout. The rune is large, larger than I intended, but somehow it feels right. Anything smaller wouldn’t have the power I need. I feel the magic swirling around me as I slip my knife across his flesh in the few, final marks. When the tip of my dagger leaves his skin, he looses a long breath.

  “Shit,” he hisses, dropping his head to the sand.

  I grip the hilt tighter until my knuckles are white. The magic tickles at my ears, running over me like feathers. Serus has joined us, prowling by my side. His amber eyes give me permission. I wilt a little. “I can’t,” I murmur to him.

  “Say the words,” he says commandingly.

  “I take this curse from you,” I say, fear lacing my voice, “As I take your blood.”

  Altair's eyes go wide as I raise the dagger over his chest. He rolls away and my blade buries itself in the sand where his heart once was. I glance up, fear and despair at what I've just attempted streaking through me. His eyes are filled with shock and pain. We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, until his hand lashes out at me. I topple back into the sand, pain flaring on my shoulder where his fist connected with my body.

  “Altair!” I cry, rolling onto my stomach in time to see him spr
int into the darkness of the ruins. I scramble to my feet, stumbling over myself in my rush to stand. “Altair, come back!”

  “Verity, stop!” Thal shouts. He’s at my side in an instant, his hand curled around my arm in a vice-like grip. “You can’t go out there, it’s too dangerous.”

  “Altair is out there,” I argue, pulling away.

  He holds me fast. “Altair can handle himself.”

  We freeze as another howl cuts through the air, chilling me to the bone. “No,” I say breathlessly, tearing out of Thal’s grip. I slip away from him before he can snag me again and tear out into the night. “Altair!”

  Chapter 17

  Altair

  Verity’s knife is like a hot iron, burning my skin with strange sigils. Her eyes are half-closed and her eyelids flutter as she murmurs to herself. The air ripples around her, like a mirage under the hot sun and I know she’s wrapped up in magic. I clench my jaw, trying to fight against the pain. I glance down at my chest, at the circle she’s etched into my flesh. It’s split into five, uneven sections, with symbols in each one.

  I drop my head back onto the sand. As she finishes each rune, I feel the curse welling up inside me, rising up to my throat. I swallow it down, but it only makes the process more painful. My eyes dart to Verity again, and I wonder if she could truly be powerful enough to break this curse. But then I feel myself faltering, my vision blurring, and the curse scratches at me. She completes the last sigil with a flourish of her blade.

  Her familiar slinks around us, its eyes locked on the spell she carved into me. They exchange a strange look and I feel fear rising in me again. Verity made this with the help of the Bloodbane witch, a woman I’m not sure I can trust. And Verity herself was hurt by me. Doubt pricks at me, warning me not to trust a pained woman with a dagger. I blink, trying to clear my vision, but it’s almost as if my conscious is trapped between reality and my cursed form.