Mark of Truth (Wicked Kingdoms Book 1)

by Graceley Knox

  “Ev? Yo, Ever?”

  The question comes from inside my bedroom. Doyle.

  Pushing my way past Dare, I grunt at his scowl and meet it with my own. I crack open the bathroom door and peer through, keeping my body hidden.

  “Yeah, D, what’s up?”

  “Just making sure you’re still alive. You know, still here and not rocking in a corner.” He snickers.

  “No, I did that last night.” I snort. “You missed the show. Sorry, I know it’s your fave.”

  I move from foot to foot, hoping my explanation will be enough for Doyle to leave. Dare shifts behind me, soft growls still vibrating through his chest at my back.

  “I’m almost done with my shower. I’ll catch up with you guys in a few, okay?”

  Doyle nods his head. “Cool. Dax said breakfast is served in the formal dining room.”

  “Got it. Thanks!” I wave a hand and close the door, blocking Doyle from my sight. I let my forehead rest against the cool wood of the door and take a deep breath.

  I turn to face Dare. My cheeks warm as embarrassment crashes through me at the thought of what we were just doing. Temporary insanity. That’s the only explanation.

  “So…” I meet his eyes, which are still heavy with desire. “If you would kindly leave, I can get back to my shower and we can get started on figuring out the massive shit storm my life has become.” I tilt my head at him, batting my eyelashes for good measure.

  He arches a brow and smirks. I realize I just flashed him and my hands go back to covering my breasts as they did at his arrival. Typical male. No matter the species.

  “Little álainn, don’t deny what was just between us.” He steps closer.

  I plant my hand in the middle of his broad chest. Deny. Deny. Deny. It’s becoming my new mantra.

  “No, that actually sounds like a solid plan.” I nod, mostly to myself, avoiding eye contact and keeping my distance from his enticing body.

  I inch my way back towards the safety of the shower. We continue our awkward shuffle until I quickly jump back from him into the open shower, snatching the solid white curtain and draping it around myself. I smile and then nod at the door.

  He turns with a growl and palms the door handle, yanks it open with a jerk, and slams it closed behind him, still growling and muttering to himself in that strange language.

  I finish my shower and walk toward my new kick ass closet.

  Flipping the light switch, I stand there for a second and imagine all the weapons I could store in here. What? I said it was kick ass, not that it would be used for clothes and shit.

  Grabbing my favorite pair of black skinny jeans out of my duffle on the floor and my long-sleeved Ozzy T-shirt, I dress quickly. I add my final touch to any outfit—my combat boots and a few knives—and I’m ready to go. I open my door and stop when Anarchy and Chaos each drop onto my shoulders. They’re like my own personal good angel, bad angel. I continue on my way toward food at the urging of my grumbling stomach, Anarchy and Chaos each chittering away.

  I stop at the top of the stairs and smile at the wooden railing. I hop on and straddle the wide bannister, letting out a battle cry as I launch myself downwards. At the bottom I bow towards the railing mouthing thank you, thank you, and wave my hand. I spin around at a chuckle. Dax is standing there, watching me with a broad grin.

  “What? Never seen a girl slide down that railing before?” I ask.

  “Not quite like that, no.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  “I got mad skills, yo.” I look around to make sure no one else saw my little performance. “Where is the kitchen or the place you get food in a fully Fae house? I’m starving!” And if the chitters at each of my shoulders are any indication, so are the little monsters.

  Dax does his own low bow, sweeping his arm out. “Follow me, my lady.”

  Eryn and I did absolutely no recon on the manor as we had set out to yesterday, instead getting stuck in the library. I’d rectify that after breakfast, as well as make sure that I have food on hand at all times for my little devils.

  I almost walk straight into Dax’s back as he stops to let me enter the room ahead of him.

  I don’t like anyone at my back so I inch sideways past him. I keep both an eye on him and an eye on the room before me. Back firmly against the wall, I step into the room and am met with a long oak table. On top of it are more place settings than should be allowed for a dining room table. I stop counting at twenty. What, are we at court or something? Maybe flew back in time to the 1800s?

  At Dax’s booming laugh, I realize I said that last part out loud. I cringe and mutter an apology before shrugging and shaking it off because what I said was true. Honestly, who has a table big enough to seat a small army in their house? Goblins, that’s who.

  I keep my eye on the big bastard and my back to the wall. He shrugs and heads straight toward the head of the table. He takes his seat next to none other than the sexiest goblin this side of the veil. I blush, thinking about how he had me pressed up against the bathroom wall only minutes ago, panting and begging for release. Dare looks calm, and that pisses me off. He doesn’t look affected at all.

  Fine. Two can play at that game.

  I storm over next to Doyle and take a seat directly next to him so he blocks my view of Dare. I focus my attention on my crew. I take my time, seeing how they are adjusting to this new round of crazy we’ve landed in. A short Brownie approaches me and asks what I’d like to break my fast. I put my hand over my mouth to try to stifle my chuckle. Brownies are proud creatures, and they would be insulted if I refused a meal from them. They’re the finest of the hearth Fae, and always take care of those they’re loyal too.

  “May I have some orange juice…I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

  “Merelda, my lady,” she replies.

  “Well, Merelda, and I mean no offense here, but if you point me in the direction of the orange juice I can certainly pour my own glass.”

  At her gasp, I realize that she must think I am insulting her in some way. Fucking Fae nuances. “But, if you wouldn’t mind making me an omelet with ham and cheese before you bring back my juice I would greatly appreciate it,” I finish, the knot in my chest easing as her face relaxes.

  “Of course, my lady, I shall be back shortly with your meal.”

  “Sweet, thanks, Merelda.” I smile.

  She grabs empty plates and dishes with her second set of arms and walks past the giant goblins seated a few seats down from me and my crew.

  I see a puzzled look on all three of their faces when I glance in their direction.

  “What?” I scowl at them. I’m in no mood for their shit.

  To my surprise it’s Dagan who speaks up, “You asked her name,” he replies, his eyebrows furrowed.

  At his comment, Kirin and Doyle start to chuckle. Both shove food in their mouths at the look I cut toward them.

  “Well, yeah, why wouldn’t I?” I quirk a brow and return my attention to their end of the table.

  “I didn’t think you would care. She is a part of the staff, and it wouldn’t benefit you in any way to ally yourself with her,” he states, not in a cruel way, but in a manner that indicates that it’s just the way it is.

  “See that’s where you are wrong, Dagan.” I lean forward, my fingers steepled under my chin. “She probably hears way more than you would think, and Brownies are very protective of those they consider friends, no matter their status.”

  “We are kind to them,” he argues. “We pay her amply to ensure her loyalty. I assure you, you don’t have to… what is it you humans say? Suck up to her.”

  I shake my head. With his upbringing he just doesn’t get what I mean. I ignore the barb about my character and I try to explain it anyways.

  “Money is just an object, Dagan. And yes, you pay her well, but everyone has a price right?” I hold up my hand to stop him from interrupting me. “I am not saying your staff are spies of some kind, but what I am saying is that kind
ness and a willingness to know who is in your house, and who does what for you, will inspire loyalty so pure that not even the greatest sum could sway them from you.”

  At his dropped jaw, I realize he may be more open to suggestion than I originally thought he was. Interesting. Especially considering he is probably a few centuries old at least. Either that or he really does think I’m a dumb leath cine. I meet Dare’s eyes for a few seconds. I sit back hard in my chair. I’m half listening to Kirin and Doyle’s antics and half listening to the hushed conversation down at the end of the table between the three brothers.

  “Were you trying to insult her, brother?” Dax asks in an angry whisper to Dagan.

  “How was that insulting? I asked her a question.”

  “You know I meant how you said it,” replies Dax, only to get cut off from his whisper rant by Dare.

  “You implied that she would be trying to not only make allies in the Goblin Kingdom, but that she was being fake in her kindness towards Merelda,” he says.

  Hmm, this is getting interesting. Just as Dagan starts to respond, my concentration is broken at the large elbow to my ribs from Doyle.

  I grunt and attempt to elbow him back and am blocked, which ensues a slap fest from the both of us. We end up on the floor laughing hysterically. Our laughter comes to a halt at the amused sounding throat clearing from Merelda.

  Both of us snap our heads up. I’m sitting on Doyle’s wide chest like it’s a chair as he bends one of my arms backwards and we both burst out laughing again. We untangle ourselves from each other, both of us trying to land as many cheap shots as we can in the process.

  Kirin and Axel are both unfazed at our antics as it’s a common occurrence at our house, but Eryn, ever the proper one out of all of us, looks mortified at our little skirmish.

  Finally, I catch my breath and turn in my chair. I reach to take my meal and juice from Merelda but stop short as she shakes her head at me. Her warm brown eyes sparkle with a bit of understanding. With one set of arms behind her back, the other are left to hold my juice and my plate, which she deposits on the table in front of me and then bows slightly as she turns to walk away. I thank her again for everything, and I dive into my meal.

  I was raised to be a warrior not a courtier, so I blame that shit on MECA.

  All of the boys are now talking about getting some training in today, and I nod my head as they make plans to meet in an hour in the outdoor arena they have set up to stay in shape when Dare interrupts my nodding.

  “Ever, you will not be joining us.” His tone brokers no argument.

  My head snaps towards him so fast, I think I broke the sound barrier.

  Puh-lease. The day I listen to anyone about what I will and won’t do will be the day I’m six feet under.

  “Excuse me? For a second there I thought you were under the delusion that you could tell me what I can and can’t do.”

  “You will no longer need to practice as you will be protected,” he retorts with a curt nod, his jaw set. Silly me, I forgot I’m just supposed to stop doing what I have been doing every day since I could walk.

  “I can protect myself, goblin, so I will be training,” I meet his cold stare head on. I won’t back down from this. “Whether you like it or not.”

  Dare scowls at me and starts muttering in that strange guttural language to his brothers again. He abruptly shoves his chair back and stomps from the room. And by stomp, I mean his heavy steps have the silverware and glasses clinking against each other on the table from the impact.

  “What the fuck did he just say in that stupid language?” I roar, jumping from my chair just as fast. I tear off after him and ignore the warnings and shouts coming from Dax and my own crew.

  He disappears up the second floor staircase and I march right up the stairs after him. I’m determined to find out what the fuck his problem is with me.

  Stupid goblins and their shit.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHT

  I make it up to the fourth floor, and follow the sounds of drawers slamming closed and angry muttering to a closed door with scrolling markings carved into the doorframe.

  Not even bothering to knock, I barge right in. I don’t register the shock and anger on his face at my intrusion of his private space.

  “Listen, goblin, I don’t know if I pissed in your cheerios or something, but you insisted I be here,” I yell at him with my hands planted firmly on my hips, my legs spread hip width apart as if I’m readying for a battle. “I’m more than happy to leave and get off the crazy train you insisted we board. Because I already know that in no way am I half goblin half elf.”

  Completely ignoring that his face is turning a rather dark golden color, I continue my rant. “And who the hell are you to judge me for my manners and what I like to do in my free time? Huh? I train because I need to be the best to survive out there. To survive those of your Kingdoms that go mad and escape and threaten the tenuous peace you have with the human race.” At this point I’m pacing and gesturing wildly. “And better yet, I’m good at what I do. Wicked good. I can take more than my fair share of knocks. Sorry that I’m not the perfectly coifed elf or whatever species you seem to think, princess that you believed me to be, but this is me. Take it or leave it.” I finish with a huff. I don’t let my mind wander to the want I feel deep in my soul for him to say he will take me as I am. That he won’t try to change me into some puppet who wears pretty dresses and says all the right things at all the right times.

  Shaking my head, I mentally chastise myself. No. He made his feelings clear this morning when he left grumbling in that same freaking language. He’s interested in no more than a quick fuck.

  I stop pacing and I look at him pointedly, hands still planted on my hips. “Anything to say for yourself, goblin?”

  He calmly walks over to a bar in the corner and comes back with an old-looking bottle of amber-colored liquid. He pours two glasses and sips from one calmly. The way his lips press against the glass has me momentarily jealous of the scotch he’s drinking.

  Shaking my head, I refuse the drink and stay standing on the other side of the room. I wait for an explanation from him, my patience draining. Even after railing at him, I can still feel my blood boiling beneath the surface.

  “Did you know you glow when you are angry, little álainn?”

  “I—uh—I.” I fumble my words. I try again. Drawing my shoulders back. “I what?” I shake my head and wave my hand. “Never mind. That doesn’t matter. What matters is you answering for your confusing and rude as hell actions towards me.”

  “I do not understand. When have I been rude to you?” he asks.

  Flabbergasted, I open and close my mouth a couple of times. He can’t be serious. Does he have short term memory loss? That’s the only logical conclusion I can come to. Or he’s dense. Which I highly doubt.

  “Were you not just in the same room as me? When you told me I would no longer be practicing my combat skills with my crew because I’m protected now? Or how about when your brother accused me of kissing ass?” I step closer to him. “Huh? What about then?” I jab my finger into his chest, not caring that I could be pissing off a very large goblin, not to mention a deadly one.

  Grabbing my hand, he pulls me down onto his lap. He wraps his arms around my waist and locks me there despite my struggles. “Be still, little álainn, and I will explain this to you.”

  I continue struggling while I try to figure out how to get him to let go of me. I can’t think when his scent is surrounding me. I grunt at the pain in my elbow from hitting him in the abdomen. “Let go of me you big bastard.”

  “Settle and let me explain. Then I will let you go if you so wish.” He gazes at me, his orange and red eyes ensnaring me. My body goes limp and my struggles come to a halt.

  “You have five minutes. Don’t waste them.”

  He smiles, the corners of his lips slowly curling upwards. I roll my eyes, barely restraining the need to stick my tongue out at the smug fucker.
/>   “How much do you know about the Goblin Kingdom, Ever?” he asks me.

  “What every other MECA guard is taught. You all pride yourselves on strength. The King isn’t a title handed down from generation to generation but it is won by the greatest fighters among you.”

  He nods.

  “Because of this, you kill any babes left at your mound unless they are able to protect themselves from you. I also know that goblins don’t have a light or a dark ruler, only one. You are supposedly very accepting of outcasts from other Fae Kingdoms such as brownies, pixies, and trolls, so long as they prove useful within the Kingdom and can survive on their own or with little protection. Past that, my knowledge consists of how to greet anyone from the current royal family and how to say a few key phrases. Mostly swearing though.” I pause for a moment. “Why am I telling you this again?”

  He holds up one hand up to stop my onslaught of questions. “What you have been taught is mostly true. But one part, the most important part, is untrue.” He takes an unhurried sip from his glass. I shift impatiently on his lap.

  “Well?” I draw the word out, letting him know I am less than impressed with the dramatic pauses.

  “Goblins do not harm babes that are left on our mound. In fact, we take them in and protect the—”

  “You said something like that yesterday, but I don’t believe you. My own family has told me of the stories when the declaration was first written.”

  He narrows his eyes, and I snap my mouth closed.

  He clears his throat. “The first few years were brutal. The King’s offspring were being hunted by Light Elves for sport, and he had never had any issues with the elves. As we mentioned previously, he preferred elven consorts. When his wife was killed by those elves claiming they were purifying the race, he lost his mind. He killed anything elven besides his children and those already in his kingdom.” He trails his hand up and down the outside of my thigh. “There were a few incidents where elven mothers dropped off their babes in hopes that we would accept them and protect them as we had done for those who could not protect themselves in the past. For about twenty years the King refused, until he got word that one of his sons had died protecting a half elven half goblin babe. At that point, to honor his son, he allowed his heart to open to those who were still in danger from the Light Elven Kingdom, and he brought them under his wing. He guaranteed them a place within his Kingdom and taught them the history of both kingdoms.”