Mark of Truth (Wicked Kingdoms Book 1)

by Graceley Knox

  Doyle reaches for me, stopping short when two hands lock onto each of his shoulders courtesy of the two goblin brothers standing behind him.

  I jerk out of Dare’s grasp, suddenly less tipsy than I was a minute ago. I slide out of my chair and square off with him. My back to the bar, I ready for a fight. No way in hell is anyone taking me anywhere. Not unless I want to go there.

  “Hate to break it to ya, but he’s right. I’m not going anywhere near the Goblin Kingdom until you offer me some solid proof. As in hard-as-diamonds proof.” Slowly, I inch away from Dare, keeping the bar to my back.

  Dare looks to his brothers over Doyle’s shoulders.

  “Fine, we can take you to our compound. It’s a few miles from here. You will be safe there, and I give you my personal blood oath that no harm will come to you.”

  I look into his eyes, frightened by the pull I feel. At the same time a feeling in my gut tells me I can trust him. I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol, my libido, or my gut, but I stop inching away.

  “Do you have a blade on you?” I ask.

  He produces a blade, eyebrows raised. He holds his other hand out palm up. He slices his hand and mutters a few words in the goblin language. Deep red liquid appears and pools in his large palm. I look to Doyle and nod.

  “All right. Let’s do this.”

  “I’ll go with you on one condition.” I hesitate before I grab the knife from him. I hold Dare’s piercing gaze as I ready to slice into my own palm.

  “And that would be?” he drawls, his lip curled up on one side, arms crossed loosely across his chest.

  “My team is with me. No questions asked, no issues with their descent. I want to know they will all be safe and no harm will come to them during our stay.”

  He cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes. “And how many are in your team?”

  “Five, including myself and Doyle. Another female half elf and two other males, both half goblin. None of them will harm any of yours unless harm is done to one of ours first. We are all peaceful, and none of us have any issues with any goblins that I am aware of. Doyle?”

  “None that I know of, Ev.”

  I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for his decision. Dare motions to the dagger in my hand. “Done.”

  With a flick of my wrist I cut into my palm. Heat warms my palm as the blade parts my flesh. Blood slowly runs down the lines of my palm. I lock eyes with Dare, slapping my palm into his much larger one. The connection hums through me. My eyes go wide at the sensation. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he snaps it shut. His dark black markings are suddenly glowing, and our hands are entwined. Deep forest green markings appear at my wrist and snake up my forearm. Beautiful in its complexity, the design continues to mark my skin. I’m entranced until the sudden silence in the pub pulls me back to reality.

  “What the fuck?” I try to snatch my arm back from his grasp.

  Markings reserved for full elves or goblins start snaking their way up my other arm, both sets stopping just below my elbows. My skin feels like its sunburnt, and the markings itch. And I’m glowing. Like a Christmas tree. I try tugging my arm back from him again, desperate to get away, but Dare holds firm. His gaze is fixed intently on my new markings. Still struggling in his hold, I frantically search for Doyle. My breath coming in pants, I take in his dazed but curious expression.

  “Can you see them, Doyle?”

  “See what? I see that you’re glowing.” His posture is stiff, his jaw clenched tight. He narrows his eyes at Dare.

  “No, I mean the symbols crawling up my—”

  Doyle shakes his head.

  I’m all alone seeing these new additions to my skin. And they are similar to Dare’s and his brothers’. Well, shit.

  “Curious,” Dare mutters, finally letting me go after my skin stops glowing like a super nova and the markings start to fade away. Relief floods through me and my breathing calms. Dare turns and heads for the door like nothing out of the ordinary just happened.

  “How did I suddenly just get markings like yours? And why are yours black? Where did they just go? This makes no sense!”

  He stops cold and turns back.

  Jerking his head back as if I slapped him, he moves closer, his lips parting. “You can see my markings?”

  I stumble back a step. “Well, yeah, they’re right there. Am I not supposed to mention I can see them?”

  I rack my brain for any etiquette I can remember regarding goblins. Nothing about not mentioning their markings. Doyle doesn’t have the pained look on his face that he gets when I put my foot in my mouth either, so I must be all right with what I said.

  “You shouldn’t be able to see them. Only those of goblin blood or those who bare the mark of truth can see them. I have them glamoured so you shouldn’t have been able to see them even then. Any recent dealings with witches?”

  “Curious,” I mimic him sarcastically, displaying a wide grin. I ignore his last question and make a mental note to look up what “a mark of truth” is. “Can we leave now? We seem to be attracting quite a bit of attention with our little technicolor show.”

  He motions to the door, turning his body sideways, leaving me space to pass by him. “Lead the way, little álainn.”

  I turn to do just that but stop short. “Move then.” I wave an arm for him to go through the doorway.

  He puffs out his chest. “And if I don’t?”

  I open my mouth to respond and snap it closed with a huff. “Fine. Be that way.”

  I squeeze past him, my softer front grazing his muscled chest. My breath catches. On instinct I draw in a gulp of air, pushing my breasts against him. My nipples harden at the contact. He lowers his gaze and focuses on my ample cleavage. A growl rumbles in his chest as I push my hands against him, giving me the inch of space I need to clear the door.

  I mutter to myself as I walk away from the entrance to the pub. “Stupid, stubborn goblin.”

  I’ll lead the way all right, but we really are going to have to talk about him calling me lovely. And little. Jerk.

  What the hell was with the light show under our skin? The sudden markings on my arms? And what the hell is a “mark of truth?”

  I need some answers and some caffeine to clear my head. Stat.

  CHAPTER

  FOUR

  We split up from the goblins that Doyle has jokingly nicknamed the “Terrible Trio” for the horrible news they shared with us. We make the drive toward their compound.

  We pull up to their front gates and stare, our jaws dropping. Compound my ass. Try a castle in the middle of a forest. In rural Indiana. Figures. The monstrous metal gates swing open to admit their black SUV before ours.

  Just then my phone rings and my mother’s number flashes on the screen. I press ignore on her fourth call of the day, which is three more than the past five months combined. I keep my stare straight ahead, ready for anything.

  Keeping close on their bumper, Doyle drives up the long pebbled driveway.

  I take in the trees lining the drive as well as the massive fountain in the middle of the circular drive. The front of the castle-like structure is dotted with giant windows, stained glass sporadically gracing their panes. On each end of the stone building, turrets jut up from the second story and continue upward for another two. The front of the castle boasts massive doors that look like they are the size of my whole bedroom at our house. On either side of the turrets, a large oak tree stands, its leaves a vibrant green, its branches scratching against the stones.

  Holy shit, they must be loaded.

  Most Fae have no issues with money. Their long lives allow them to amass certain wealth. Most Fae live outside of the realms of the Fae at some point and take that time to purchase and create businesses. Either that or they most likely funded most of today’s most well-known house hold items before they were household names. MECA had its hands in a few businesses, but that didn’t mean the leath cine are spoiled little rich kids. We all work long, hard, and s
ometimes dangerous hours to earn everything we have.

  “You ready for this, Ev? We can still turn around right now.”

  Doyle’s voice snaps me out of my daze.

  “Let’s just do this. Plus the crew is already on their way.”

  My heart is beating a staccato rhythm in my chest, pounding so hard I’m afraid Doyle can hear it in the confines of our SUV. I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants, my hands shaking. I try breathing through my nose. I’m freaked the fuck out. If what they say is true, my Mother lied to me. She put me in danger just by asking me to come to the festival, even leaving me with MECA. What if I had developed abilities more suited to a goblin rather than an elf? If MECA knew they would have turned me over to avoid any attacks from the full blooded Fae.

  No way am I half goblin. They have the wrong girl, and if they’re just messing with me so they can try to get with an elf or because I’m leath cine, they’ll be short a few dangly bits. Throwing my shoulders back, I give a curt nod.

  Doyle gives me a kind smile, his eyes crinkled at the edges. “It’ll all work out, Ev.”

  I attempt a smile, but my mouth refuses to move. I know I’m not fooling him with my front of bravery, but so long as these goblins don’t know that, who cares?

  As we exit the SUV, we gawk at the front entrance. It’s covered in gargoyles. I hadn’t noticed them while I checked out the architecture of the house. Nasty little fuckers if they don’t like you, according to what I’ve read. And these aren’t the cute little ones the size of cats or small dogs. Each gargoyle on either side of the steps leading up to the front doors is over seven feet tall. Their hard stony eyes watch us intently. Dax and Dagan head inside, both of them laying a hand on the gargoyles and smoothing their hands down their backs. Brave men. I would have been terrified of losing a hand, but obviously these gargoyles are loyal to them.

  Interesting. Gargoyles are notorious for being extremely picky with who they will tolerate. Dare is standing at the bottom of the granite steps. When we don’t move fast enough, he clears his throat, motioning for us to hurry along.

  We both stop dead at the twin growls coming from the massive gargoyles. Tensing, I pivot so I’m back to back with Doyle, ready to take the gargoyles on if I must. Stupid goblin didn’t say there would be a test to enter the doors. I shift my gaze to Dare and give him a what-the-hell look. He chuckles.

  The big fucker chuckles.

  “Super glad this is amusing you, but we weren’t expecting to have to fight our way into the compound.” I keep one eye on the gargoyle to my right as I seethe.

  “They protect each of us, and they are our defense against those who aren’t pure of heart when entering our home.” Dare raises both arms, motioning to each of them.

  “And how, may I ask, do they determine that? A fight to the death?” I am becoming completely disgruntled with our current situation, my blood boiling.

  “You must let them taste your blood, of course.” A smirk twists his lips.

  Oh. Taste our blood. Of course. What?

  “Excuse me? Our blood?” He has got to be joking.

  “You can either prick your fingers, or they must bite you, but they will not allow you to pass until they have sampled your blood.” He shrugs. “I suggest pricking your fingers, though. Their bites wouldn’t be gentle.”

  I give Doyle a droll look. Stupid Fae and their tricks. He shrugs at me. A dagger appears suddenly in his right hand and he pricks his finger, handing it off to me. Slowly he approaches the gargoyle to the left, the beast crouching down to his level. Its large white-veined wings flare wide as it lowers its head toward Doyle’s hand. A long ash-grey tongue snakes out of its mouth, large teeth framing it as it takes in the drop of blood from Doyle’s finger. Its head cocks to the side, and it blinks its eyes slowly. I shudder. Now I have to do that.

  I swipe the blade down my finger and walk toward the gargoyle on my right. It crouches, although a bit lower for my sake, and waits for me to extend my hand. His cold stone eyes track my every movement.

  I take a deep breath and extend my hand toward its terrifying mouth. Its tongue flicks out. It tilts its head, and suddenly darts forward towards me. I throw my arms above my head to protect myself at its charge, and brace for an impact that never comes. I lower my arms. The beast sits before me, its tail lined with spikes ending in one deadly sharp point curled around its feet.

  “Good beastie. Don’t kill me. Please.” Because manners are going to make all the difference, of course. Not for the first time, my life flashed before my eyes. I’m used to it in my line of work, but each time never became less of a reason to be thankful I’m still here. Alive and kicking.

  A sudden booming laugh startles me, and I jump to the side. Dax is bent over as he looks at something behind me. I look over my shoulder. Doyle is on the ground with the other gargoyle licking his face. Ouch, stone tongue. That can’t be pleasant. I start up the stairs to the main door. Tripping over a step, I momentarily lose my balance as the gargoyle rubs its head against my back, startling me.

  The gargoyle nudges my arm with its large snout. It wants something from me, but I’m not sure what. I rub its head as Dax and Dagan did. I’m still a bit cautious, of course. I mean, hello, this beast is the size of our SUV.

  I reach up a bit farther and rub right behind his pointed ears between his curved horns. I laugh a bit as a rumble sounds from him. This giant fearsome beast is purring like a contented kitten.

  I lean my face into him, my forehead resting on his. The force of his contented rumbling noises vibrate through my body like I’m sitting in a massage chair.

  “Later, buddy, I’ll be back out and we can hang.”

  His tail swishes behind him.

  I give him one last pat, and he jumps back up to his post. His wings furl behind his back as he comes to rest, keeping watch over the property once more.

  I turn and walk up the steps, ignoring the slacked jaws of the three giant goblins in front of me.

  “So where to?” I ask, hands on my hips, a determined set to my mouth.

  “Right this way.” Dax opens the massive doors with ease.

  I turn and ensure that Doyle is still with me. We walk inside, Doyle slightly behind me and to my left wiping gargoyle slobber from his face. Perhaps a dragon next? I wouldn’t be surprised.

  We head down a lavish hallway decorated in burgundy and gold. Every hallway we pass is filled with paintings and expensive looking vases lining the walls and side tables.

  Dax strides through an open door, and I follow. Opulent velvet settees and chaises form a circle inside the room. Couches and armchairs are placed sporadically throughout the room. Unique tables sit next to each chair, their surfaces piled high with stacks of books. Bookcases line the room. Another three floors of shelves and platforms to reach them stretch above me. This room is so awesome. Total book nerd alert. My palms itch to get on the platforms and absorb all the stories the books have to tell. My favorite escape is between the pages of a good book.

  I take a seat on one of the couches in the room. I cross my legs and rest my arm on the couch. I’m ready to get some answers from them, especially about why my arms look like I frequent a tattoo shop and my favorite color is green.

  A maid appears at my elbow, holding out a tray of treats, and indicates the selection of drinks on the table in front of me. I snag a cookie and nod my thanks before bending forward to peruse my drink choices. I settle on a bottle of water and lean back, munching away on a mouth full of oatmeal raisin cookie. I focus my attention on Dare and his brothers sitting across from Doyle and me. They all barely fit on the one couch.

  “So let’s get straight to it, eh? Why the hell I am I am decorated with designs, or should I say, was decorated with designs? They seem to have disappeared for the moment. And why is it that I glowed like a Christmas tree once our blood mingled during our handshake?”

  My tight grip on my water bottle is the only indication that I’m not at ease.

  Dare is the
one to respond, his attention on my face. “Have you ever sworn a blood oath before?”

  “Yeah, multiple times. Usually within my own crew or while I was training at MECA. Why?”

  “So it was only with leath cine that you made the oaths?”

  “No, actually it was with the King of Pixies each time.” I scoff. “Of course it was with other leath cine. It’s not like I had much access to anyone else.”

  He shakes his head and stands. “A reaction like that would only happen for one of three reasons. One, you are fully Fae and made an oath with another full blooded Fae. Two, you have never exchanged any bodily fluids with a full blooded Fae, and thus your abilities never fully reached their potential. Last but not least, you came in contact with your fated mate.” His mouth sets in a harsh line. His jaw ticks at the last part.

  “I think we can rule that last one out, seeing as how I repulse you,” I quip, noting his grimace. “The only thing it could be is that you triggered some latent abilities I am not aware of. I already have abilities though, so you would just be adding to my arsenal.”

  “You are purposefully avoiding the first one, little álainn.” He meets my gaze head on, challenging me to consider the option that I might be full blooded Fae and not half human after all.

  “You’re damn right I am!” I jump up from my seat and pace a tight circle around the room. “Do you know what that would mean? I would be executed for my existence alone if what you’re saying is true. And let’s not forget my mother would also be killed for her actions. She is Light Elf, which means I am as well.”

  I may not see eye to eye with her, but it doesn’t mean I want her to die a horrific death either.

  Stone clatters and I stop in my tracks. I look to the brothers for an answer. They shrug like stone clashes all the time here, and I continue my pacing.

  “The rest of our crew must be here,” Doyle mutters, even though there is no way they got here that fast.