Mark of Truth (Wicked Kingdoms Book 1)

by Graceley Knox

  “Yeah, sure.” I scoff at her and shake my head. There’s nothing I can do now. I’ll just have to glamour them tonight while we’re out so I don’t look like I’m homeless.

  Eryn offers me a small mirror. Not bad considering. My blood-red hair is unusual for my lineage, while my pale silver skin with the emerald green shimmer gives away my royal bloodline. My skin is only slightly marred after the elf got me in the face. Nothing a quick thought can’t make disappear when we’re in public. My eyes are wide set. Lilac ringed in azure and framed by long red lashes are nothing like anyone in my family line.

  Specially crafted hoops decorate my pointed ears, completely covering the outer shell of my left ear. The hoops signal my guard status with MECA. I’m lucky I didn’t end up as a researcher or just one of the protected—those not so lucky of the half breeds. The protected end up wearing those ridiculous looking half spectacles. Not a good look on me.

  Eryn hands me a mirror, her pale white-green skin shimmering. “Here, fix your face.” Eryn is half elf but not of royal bloodlines.

  I stick my tongue out at her.

  “Yeah, Ev. Fix your face.” Kirin laughs. He hits Doyle’s massive shoulder as he chuckles.

  “Up yours, you big oafs.”

  Doyle and Kirin are both half goblin, and they prefer to go without glamour. They enjoy the stares they get.

  “Hey, don’t group me in with these two.” Axel chuckles as he hikes a thumb over his shoulder. His skin shimmers bronze in the overhead light in the van. Axel is on the small side for a goblin but he holds his own. He’s one of the few male offspring from a human and goblin coupling to survive within the Goblin Kingdom for a few years before he joined us at MECA.

  “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” I finish adjusting my face and flip the compact mirror closed. “Finally.” I throw up my hands.

  Nods of assent and noncommittal grunts follow my comment. “It’s so beautiful here. The thousands of lights. The trees’ branches so high they dance with the clouds…” I sigh. After driving for what seems like forever, we approach a large angel oak tree with a trunk as wide as a warehouse. Every time I’m here I’m reminded that I don’t belong in this world. My place is with MECA and my crew. The thought leaves a pressure in my chest making it hard to draw in a deep breath.

  Halting the van, Axel signals to Doyle and Kirin to proceed with caution. Both Doyle and Kirin jump out of the van and move toward the back. Both are tall and muscular, inhumanly so, with wide set shoulders and bronze skin shimmered in green, alerting anyone to their goblin heritage. I grip the metal of the door frame tightly while I step out of the van.

  I turn and approach the large wooden door covered in scrolling designs and outlined in warm yellow light that sits dead center in the trunk of the massive tree.

  Before I can knock, the door swings open, and the keeper of the entrance appears. He is short for an elf and obviously part troll. His deep brown skin matches the color of the bark on the tree. Tree branches grow out of his head like hair, emulating the rack of a deer.

  “Ever Leath and crew, here to drop off a rogue.” I bow as I talk.

  He turns around and scurries away. His antlers scarcely miss the doorjamb as he slams the door in my face. I turn and watch the nut job behind me as he struggles between Kirin and Doyle.

  I glare harshly at the elf. “Would you stop it? You’re going nowhere, so struggle is futile.”

  Both Kirin and Doyle chuckle at my outburst, their shoulders shaking slightly. Suddenly sobering, they stand at attention as the door behind me opens again. The light from within the tree shines on our group once more.

  I take my time turning around. When I do, I size up the men who are here to deal with our prisoner. I shrug and wave my hand toward them and say to Doyle and Kirin, “Give him to them.”

  The twisted lips and scrunched eyes on the elves stop Doyle and Kirin short.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I scowl. “Yes, they’re half goblin, but they did your asses a favor retrieving this psycho you couldn’t control. So suck up your prejudices and accept what they have to give you.”

  Growing up, MECA taught me that elves have a bit of a superiority complex. MECA seems a bit biased against full-blooded goblins and elves though, as the leath cine had been thrown from their home realms and sentenced to live amongst the humans in their realm. Luckily, the full-blooded Fae I know and consider allies don’t seem to care that I’m a leath cine. In fact, they appreciate my status because I can cut through the red tape and go places they can’t without violating treaty laws and land boundaries. I tend to collect lost things or people, trying to help them heal. I know I can’t save everyone, but I try my hardest nonetheless. I just can’t seem to take my own advice and work through my issues with my mother.

  “Or we can just let him go and he becomes your problem.” I cock my head to the side.

  At their continued stare, I shrug and raise my hand to give the signal to let the rogue elf loose. I hold my hand at my neck, one finger about to draw a line in the air across it. Doyle and Kirin both play their parts. Kirin grabs the prisoner’s shackled hands in his own and Doyle pats his pockets with exaggerated movements as he searches for the keys. Either way, we’ve done our jobs. The elf is back on Light Elven territory.

  “W-Wait! Okay fine. Hand him over,” The tallest of the elves shouts begrudgingly. His lips press together after his outburst.

  Not the most humble bunch I’ve ever come across.

  “Your payment for bringing him back to us will be delivered to the MECA compound. Safe travels,” The elves add with a pointed stare that indicates we are free to go. They turn their backs to us.

  Kirin and Doyle spin around, and their heavy footsteps crunch through the hard dirt.

  Catching up with them, almost skipping in glee, I link my arms through each of theirs. “Let’s party!”

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  I startle awake, hands instantly cradling my pounding head. My heart is beating fast from jerking up in bed, the soft sheets pooling at my waist. Goddess, how much did I drink last night?

  Who or what do I have to kill to make the noise stop? I am not in the house my crew and I share. I’m in one of the spare rooms at the MECA compound usually used for visiting guard members from around the world or those waiting to get their bunk assignments with their new roommates.

  Well, shit.

  Some asshole has a death wish this morning. I stumble toward the door, my legs a bit unsteady, ready to knock whomever it is into next week.

  “I swear to God if that’s you Doyle, I will castr—”

  The door swings open, revealing my mother, and I drop my arm to my side.

  “Uh, Mother. Isn’t this a surprise? Come on in.” I make a grand sweeping gesture with my arm. I bend at the waist and smirk at the pursing of her thin lips. I wonder if the unmade bed and the sight of my clothes scattered haphazardly on the floor is the cause of her visible cringe. Shrugging, I can’t bring myself to care about the appearance of the room right now. Each ray of sunlight filtering through the windows is like a shard of glass to my eyeballs.

  Scratching my head, I follow her gaze. I don’t even remember getting here last night. I’m still wearing my black lace panties, my bra is off, and I’m in a shirt way too big for me. Must be Doyle’s. Perv. He must have gotten me into bed last night. I chuckle softly. He would never think of me that way.

  Shutting the door and turning to face my Mother full on, I brace myself for what is sure to be a migraine-inducing morning. Most of our correspondence is via phone or letter, since she can’t be bothered to take time from her busy court schedule of teas and cross-stitching to see me.

  She has visited this place a total of three times, even though I had invited her to countless events as I grew up. Once when she dropped me off as a year-old baby, another time at age five to inform me she wouldn’t be seeing me again until I graduated, and the final time was ten days after I completed m
y training as a MECA guard. She keeps in touch with letters, but most of the time I don’t respond. She let slip once that her maids read her letters and let her know what is important, so I don’t see the point. Her ramblings about herself and her prattling on about court and all that frilly bullshit doesn’t concern me and only makes me feel even more distant from her than I already am. I want to talk with her, not listen to her talk.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you, Ever.” She looks down her pert nose at me from her taller height.

  She’s always uses my full name even though I prefer my nickname, Ev. I’ll never tell her for fear of her not using my name at all, but I like that she refuses to use my nickname, like my real name is special in some way to her.

  “Why?” Shit must be hitting the fan for her to willingly taking time out of her busy schedule to speak with me in person.

  She wrings her hands. Interesting. She’s nervous about telling me something, and she can’t lie. Little drawback—Fae can’t lie, but man, do they know how to play on words. I wonder if something has happened with my Uncle Caddox or one of my many aunts.

  “I need to speak with you. It is something of utmost importance.” She pulls at her flowing skirt.

  “Yeah, I got that. What is it?”

  Can’t she tell I have a date with a mimosa and some breakfast to get rid of this headache? I berate myself as soon as the thought crosses my mind. She came to see me. But deep inside I try not to let myself hope that she wants to get to know me.

  “I have found someone for you to marry,” she states, her smile smug.

  I jerk back as if I were slapped and drop my jaw. “I’m sorry, did we suddenly jump back in time to the middle ages? Last I checked it’s a free Kingdom, and I can marry whomever the hell I please, Mother.”

  “Yes, well, he is of higher elf blood and willing to overlook your impure bloodlines, Ever. Honestly, you are of child-bearing age. You need to consider settling down. You won’t find a better match, I assure you.” She flails her arms in the air like she’s conducting an orchestra, her voice rising higher.

  Last I checked, relationships between leath cine and full-blooded elves are still punishable by death. I’m struggling to understand why she’s telling me this. To be cruel? Or is she genuinely trying to help me find a mate? Even speaking of a union between leath cine and a full-blooded elf was considered treason.

  “I assure you I’m not interested,” I say coldly. Better to be totally against it. That way I can’t be tried for treason. I’m ready to toss her out on her haughty ass. How dare she say this to me. Is it a trick? After our last phone call, I thought we might be making some progress. She listened to me talk about my day and my latest mission with minimal sighs of annoyance and interruptions. I guess I was wrong. Dead wrong.

  An arranged marriage? To a stranger. Is she high? Elf pot?

  “You’re being unreasonable. You must at least meet him,” she says. “He’s expecting you at the next festival. This week.”

  “Excuse me?” I widen my eyes, giving a bark of laughter. “This week, Mother? I have plans, and a job.” I try to frown, but my jaw is tight with tension. She doesn’t have to know that my plans are to be anywhere but at that festival.

  “Cancel them. You must be there. I will not take no for an answer!” Her voice rises, her tone hysterical.

  “Sorry, I’ve had these plans for a while.” Like five seconds, but pssh, semantics.

  She starts pacing in a tight circle, her shoulders hunched. I have never seen or heard of my Mother appearing anything less than put together and eerily calm. That’s the way of the high elves.

  “You must cancel them,” she repeats. “Do this for me, Ever. I’m your mother, and I have never asked anything of you. I need you at this festival celebration.”

  “What is this really about, Mother? And don’t try to dance around it. I can see it’s important, but why? You full blooded Fae never do things out of the kindness of your heart, so why would you try to arrange a match for me? Why is so important I suddenly attend an event at the court when I have never once been invited before?”

  Her face goes pale, and her calm mask reappears. “Ever, you are of age now. And the King and I would like to see you make a smart match.”

  Ahhh. So this is something political. My uncle. The only one she could be referring to is the current King of the Elven Kingdom, Caddox McElva, all around badass extraordinaire.

  “Uncle Caddox, you mean? Has something happened?” I watch her face closely for any unspoken cues.

  My mother’s expression shutters and her eyes avoid mine. Adjusting her stance, she shifts from foot to foot. “He is the King of the Light Elves. You must refer to him as such. You would do well to remember not to refer to him so informally.” She avoids my question while scolding me all at once. Special talent she has there.

  “Yeah, whatever. Why didn’t he send me an invite or ask me himself?”

  “He is the King! He doesn’t have time to personally invite everyone he wishes to attend.”

  I shake my head, amused that this seems to be fazing her in some way. What she really means is that he doesn’t have time to confer with half-breeds, dirty little things that we are. Little does she know that my uncle has visited me more times than I can count. He is probably the only elf that I don’t have negative feelings for on sight due to their usually haughty natures. He has never cared that I am leath cine. He was here for every milestone as I grew up. When I mastered the language of the elves, and then the goblins. When I graduated and then successfully completed my first capture solo, he was there. Caddox was always there to congratulate me and offer a wise piece of advice. I look up to him as a father figure, since I don’t know who mine is because my mother turns into a mute at the mention of the subject.

  “Mother, be honest with me, and tell me why it is suddenly so important I attend one of the celebrations, and I will consider it.”

  She huffs and plants her hands on her hips. “Cashel Finarben approached your uncle about making a match with you. As he is a court favorite and has many powerful allies, your uncle sees no reason why he should deny him his request.”

  “I have a few. Not a huge one or anything, just, you know, that he’s my cousin! Which makes us related. Oh, and that I would be sentenced to death if I were to wed him since I’m a leath cine and he’s not.”

  She gasps, tilting her head to the ceiling and letting out a heavy sigh.

  “Any hold you or anyone of the elven court had over me disappeared the day you left me here to be raised by MECA. So I don’t see why I would do this for you, Mother. As a matter of fact, I think it’s time you left.” Any last shred of hope that she was here just to see me disappears in a puff of smoke, and my stomach drops.

  “Ever, be reasonable. One celebration won’t kill you, darling.”

  She almost sounds pleading, but I’m not fooled by her tone. She’s as hard as stone. Cold and calculating. Her trembling lips and shaking hand extended toward me screams of dishonesty.

  “On the contrary, Mother, I’m thinking that it just might kill me. So I will go on blissfully unaware of what exactly happens at those shindigs of yours.”

  As I move past her toward the door, she grabs my arm with more force than I thought her capable. She drops her “pity me” act, and I freeze. Her eyes flicker. They are constantly flitting from place to place. After a few moments they are steady on my face.

  “Let go of me. Now,” I demand, my tone icy.

  “Please, you must be there. If you don’t believe me, at least ask your uncle.” Nodding, her chin held high, she thrusts her shoulders back.

  I stare at her, incredulous.

  “Yes, I know of all of his visits. You didn’t think I did, did you?” She waves a hand in dismissal.

  She can be so stuck up sometimes. She has moments of kindness. Moments I do my best to encourage. I’ve worked my ass off my entire life to get her to notice me. For her to say she is proud of me. I only ever get fleetin
g glimpses into her true feelings towards me.

  “I didn’t think you cared either way, but fine, I will ask him. And once I have talked with him, I will consider it.”

  I open the door and give her a pointed look. I can only give her so much. All she seems to do is take from me. Her request seems important to her. Which gives me pause. She might take the time to send me a letter or call me once in a while, but she has never invited me to the Light Elven Kingdom. Even when I was a child and begged and pleaded for her to take me just once, she never budged.

  She huffs again, flouncing towards the door, her perfectly straight sea-green hair flowing behind her as if she creates her own personal breeze. No goodbyes, no final pleading looks—she just leaves. I plop down on the bed and cradle my aching head in my hands.

  I stare down at the hardwood floors. What in the hell was that? I’m too hungover to process it at the moment.

  A knock sounds on the still open door. Doyle stands there with his arms open for a hug. I narrow my eyes, fold my arms across my chest, and frown.

  “That sounded fun.” He’s trying to hold a straight face…and failing. He knows about my relationship—or lack thereof—with my mother.

  “How much did you hear?” I pat the space beside me on the bed.

  He folds his large frame next to mine on the plain white sheets and wraps his muscular arm around my narrow shoulders. “Want the truth, or just like half of it?”

  “The truth, always the truth.” I manage a small smile.

  “I heard almost all of it.”

  I grimace.

  “So you going to marry this guy and leave all of us in the dust?”

  “Fat chance. You wouldn’t survive without me.” I would never leave my team.

  Doyle laughs and then locks me in a headlock. Our play fighting lightens my mood.