“Liam, welcome!” Roarke, the fae king, strutted toward him, a wide smile on his face and his arms outstretched. He was flanked by others, both men and women, some carrying crude weapons. They were there, Liam suspected, to see a dragon up close.
If the king thought they were friends, Liam wouldn’t try to change his mind.
Roarke gave him a hard pat on the back with more force than was necessary. The king stood as tall as his shoulder, but even Liam knew he would have to be careful. The man hummed with a controlled energy just below the surface. He was not to be underestimated.
“Thank you for having me,” Liam said, nodding at the king and trying to seem as nonthreatening as possible.
“Always a pleasure. We’ve never had a dragon here before. Be proud that you are the first. Have you ever been inside a fae village before?”
Giggles came from behind the king and Liam glanced in the direction of two fae women who were looking at him with interest. He brought his attention back to the king. “Aye, I have. One, years ago.”
The king’s brows shot up. It wasn’t the answer he had been expecting. “Which?”
“In Ireland when I was still a lad. Me father had dealings with them.” Liam’s stomach gave his growing hunger away and the king laughed at the sound.
“Come, let us enjoy a meal and drink some ale. We have much to speak about.” With the wave of a hand, the crowd dispersed. The rain came down harder, pelting his face and soaking his shirt and hair. The king didn’t seem phased in the slightest.
Liam followed as the king led the way further into the village. They were nearing the bonfire when a loud crowd drew his attention. They were laughing and yelling crude remarks. At first Liam thought it was directed at him, but when he saw their true target, he frowned.
A woman was tied to a pole, her body nude. She was no fairy, evident by the absence of wings, but what she was doing there he had no idea. She stood, blood running down her chest from an opening on her shoulder. Her shoulder length brown hair was dripping as her head lolled against the pole. From where he stood he could see the gooseflesh on her skin. She would freeze if she stayed out in the elements much longer, but perhaps that was what the fae had in mind for her.
When her pleading hazel eyes met his, his stomach dropped. There was no hope for her.
“You’ve noticed our prisoner,” Roarke’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
There was no denying that he had been staring. “Aye.”
The sound of the king’s laughter was unsettling. “She is a witch we found. We do not take kindly to others, especially those working with shifters, coming into our territory.”
“What will you do with her?”
“If she doesn’t die from the cold tonight, she will be burned at the stake at dawn. Fitting, isn’t it?” Roarke laughed again and Liam inwardly cringed. The tears gathering in the girl’s eyes made it difficult to remember what he was doing there in the first place. “We will go to my private chambers to speak.”
“Aye,” was all Liam was able to get out. He cast the woman another glance in time to see a man approach her and wallop her across her face. It was best he didn’t look anymore, lest he intervene. What they were doing to her disgusted him, but there was nothing he could do about it while still maintaining cordial relations. He forced himself to stare straight ahead, only half listening to the king’s polite rambling and tried to get the vision of the girl out of his head.
When they reached the large stone hut, the king opened the door. Inside a fire blazed in the center of the room. Torches hung on the wall, their flames casting plenty of light in the room. There were two place settings at the long table that took up a large portion of one side of the room. The other side was blocked off by a screen that Liam could only guess hid the king’s bed.
Roarke sat down at the head of the table first. Liam followed suit, sitting down at the only other place setting. A girl—no older than ten—scurried into the room a second later, carrying a clay pitcher. She avoided Liam’s eyes and smiled at the king before filling both of their mugs with ale.
Liam lifted it without hesitating. There was nothing like a cold ale, especially when he had to be in the company of strangers. Half of it was gone by the time the girl reached the door.
“We have much to discuss,” Roarke began.
“Aye.” Liam set the mug back down on the table. The king hadn’t touched his mug yet. His gray eyes were studying Liam. Straightening in the chair, he met the king’s stare and waited for him to continue.
“We fae have always respected the Dragons for their strength and perseverance. You belong to a mighty race.”
Liam could think of nothing else to say except, “Aye.”
“You also happen to be our neighbor.”
These were all things Liam already knew. What he didn’t know was what the king was trying to get at. Refraining himself from being disrespectful, he nodded.
The king opened his mouth, but stopped when the door opened once again. The same girl who had brought the ale in before came in carrying two plates piled high with steaming moose and an array of vegetables. She set the plates carefully in front of the men and Roarke nodded to her.
“Thank you, Grania.”
Liam inhaled the food, his stomach growling. “Thanks,” he mumbled. The girl nodded and hurried from the room when it became obvious that nothing else was needed from her.
When Roarke finished chewing, he put his fork down. “I understand that you desire to be left to your solitude.”
“I do.” Liam stopped eating. He had a suspicion he knew what the fae king was getting to.
The king smiled. “I am more than willing to give you that. To promise that you will be left in peace without any fae or shifter interference.”
“And what do you want from me in return?” Liam saw no reason to beat around the bush and apparently, neither did the king.
After swallowing a mouth full of ale, Roarke answered him. “I wish to have your assistance with the shifter problem we are currently facing.”
“The shifters? What problem would that be?”
Liam didn’t like where the conversation was going, although it didn’t surprise him. The shifters and the fae had a hatred for one another that went back longer than Liam had been alive. Their troubles in this area of Maine were no different from anywhere else in the world, although perhaps more pronounced. They lived in close quarters. New Freedom—the shifter town—wasn’t more than a few kilometers away from where they were sitting now.
Although he didn’t know the original cause of the dispute, he did know that they were constantly fighting over the territory they called No-Man’s-Land. The same land that also bordered Liam’s. As much as he didn’t want either the shifters or the fae directly next to him, he didn’t want them using his front yard as a battlefield either. And while neither of their races had tried to drag him into the fight, he knew it wouldn’t be much longer before they did.
Tonight was the night the fae would make a move.
“The animals think they have rights to the land. My people have been here for centuries longer than the shifters. That land is ours by birthright. We have tried for decades to have peace with them, but they do not desire peace. They wish to take what is ours. They wish to come into Péine and take over our sacred space. I cannot allow that to happen.”
Roarke desired peace? He had a hard time believing that. The woman strapped to the pole, currently freezing to death, was proof that the fae had no desire for peace. They had made alliances elsewhere, otherwise the witch wouldn’t be there at all. Now they were trying to drag Liam into the middle of their fight with the people Liam respected. The shifters left him alone. Unlike the fae, they didn’t intrude into his area. He knew as soon as the shifters were gone and No-Man’s-Land was in the hands of the fae, his land would be next. He would be next.
He would be a fool to say anything while he was sitting in the middle of Roarke’s private quarters. He may be a drag
on, but defeating an entire village of fae was something even he couldn’t do. As soon as he stepped through the portal, his ability to transform into his dragon form was gone. Their magic protected them. Protected them from him.
“What do you want of me?”
“Liam, I want your help. I believe that we could make powerful allies in this war and in exchange, once the shifters are gone, you will be given additional lands and the solitude you desire. I know you do not like having so many people so close to your own sanctuary.” The king twisted the mug in his hands.
Liam sat back in the chair. “No, I don’t.”
“Join us and you won’t have to worry about that anymore. We would give you an additional ten square miles to add to your horde and the guarantee that once the war is over, you will not be bothered again. Any fae who strays onto your land would have to answer for it to me.”
The king’s gray eyes searched his face and Liam was careful to hide any immediate reaction. As nice as having the additional land and the half-hearted guarantee of peace was, he couldn’t tear his mind away from the naked woman in the square.
It made him hate the fae even more than he already did, if that were possible.
He spoke before he could stop himself. “Aye, I’ll make a deal with you. But on one condition.”
The king’s bottom lip twitched. He had probably thought he had offered him the deal of a lifetime and for Liam, it wasn’t far off. Dragons longed for seclusion and he was no different from the rest of them. However, he had to listen to his conscience and to what his gut was telling him.
Roarke stared at him, waiting quietly for his demands. When he didn’t immediately continue, he asked, “And that is?”
“I’ll take the girl you have. The witch.”
Roarke’s eyes widened. “Why would you want her? I could give you a beautiful fae virgin and yet you choose a witch.” He shook his head.
“I’m a man.” He shrugged, his eyes never leaving the king’s face. “I have the needs of any man. I’ve had fae women before, but I’ve never tried a witch.”
“But she’s so... unappealing.”
He couldn’t stop the low rumble of the growl that formed in the back of his throat. He tasted the smoke before the fine wisps escaped his nostrils.
“But I suppose every man’s taste is different,” the king hurried, quickly nodding his head. “If you want her, I’m not disinclined to include her in our contract. I have no use for her.”
“Aye, now you best be getting the girl warm before she dies of the cold. There will be no contract if that happens.”
“Grania!” Roarke bellowed. The girl scampered in through the door, her head bowed. “Inform Bradán that he is to cut down the witch and that she is to be given to our guest. Give her adequate covering and take her to the guest quarters.”
“Yes, sire.” The girl gave a quick curtsy and hurried from the room.
Roarke turned to Liam and extended his hand. “We, Liam McIntyre, have a deal.”
Gripping the king’s hand, Liam nodded his head. “Aye, we have a deal.”
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, she would never be warm again. Even after pulling on the ridiculous medieval dress and scrunching up in front of the fire with a heavy blanket, she couldn’t force her teeth to stop chattering. Her already pale skin was almost translucent, her blood frozen in her veins.
When Bradán cut her down without a word, she thought she would be meeting her end. Instead he had handed her over to a little girl. The girl, who she later learned was named Grania, led her to a small hut on the outskirts of the village. There she had given her the too tight, albeit warm, dress.
After covering her still bleeding shoulder with a folded square of fabric given to her by Grania and squeezing into the dress, she wrapped herself in the scratchy blanket that had been left on the narrow bed. She turned to Grania, who was surveying her with mild interest.
“What’s going to happen to me?”
“You have been sold,” the girl said with a small smile.
Sold? Heidi’s mouth dropped. She couldn’t find the words to ask what she meant or who bought her or what that would entail. She was in shock. Minutes before she had thought they would just kill her, but apparently she made them more of a profit if they sold her instead. A mix of anger and fear swirled inside her.
“You must stay here. Do not try to leave. There’s nowhere for you to go.” The girl swung her light brown hair over her shoulder and went out the door. The lock clicked into place and Heidi could feel herself deflate. She sunk to her knees in front of the small fire Grania had started and tried to warm herself.
The hut itself was the size of her closet at home. The ground was a packed earth with a fire pit in the center of the room. There was a narrow table and a chair pushed against the wall and the bed against the opposite wall. A small pile of wood sat next to the door beneath a small window opening. No glass, only closed wooden shutters kept out the cold. An opening in the thatch ceiling let out the smoke from the fire.
Water boiled in the metal pot that hung above the fire, but she couldn’t yet bring herself to remove a mug full of the liquid. Her hair still dripped down her back, refusing to dry even after she covered the top of her head with the blanket.
Heidi didn’t know how long she sat there, shaking. It seemed an eternity, but she couldn’t deny how grateful she was to be out of the cold and away from her tormentors. Her shoulder ached and she had yet to tend to the wound. They had screamed obscenities at her, had blamed her for everything from the rain that had started to fall to the sickness of their children. She hadn’t done anything to them. She couldn’t understand where their hatred of her came from. They had cut her, cursed her, slapped and spit at her.
When the lock turned and the door opened, she pushed herself into the corner. She didn’t know who would walk through, but the giant she had seen earlier was the last person she expected. Although he wasn’t a fairy he still frightened her. He was still the biggest man she had ever seen.
He stood almost seven feet and was broad enough that he had to duck and turn to get inside the hut. His long black hair was wet from the rain and swung down his back as he turned and locked the door, this time from the inside.
She wanted to make herself disappear. Her fingertips clung to the blanket, wishing she could shrink and hide in its folds and away from his searching blue eyes. He stood, staring at her as he tucked the skeleton key into the pocket of his pants.
“Jaysus...” he muttered when he took a step forward and she pulled the blanket over her face.
His footsteps thumped the ground as he stepped toward her. She wouldn’t look at him and silently begged that he would just leave. She could feel the heat that radiated off him when he squatted down in front of her, the sound of his breathing close.
When he gently lifted the blanket from her face, she startled, jumping back. Her face and back pressed against the wall so hard she thought the stone would cut through the layers of fabric that protected her skin.
“Easy,” he said. The thick Irish accent tickled her ears. No one else she had heard there had the same accent. This man was different, and it wasn’t just the sound of his voice or the lack of wings that made him that way.
“Who are you and what do you want?” The words spewed forth before Heidi could stop or slow them.
“My name’s Liam.”
“What do you want?”
“The fae king gave you to me.”
It took her a second to register what he had said. “He gave me to you?”
“Aye.”
“Why?” Why would he give her away and why would this man even want her? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
He waved his hand. “It was easy to get him to hand you over. The king’s touched.” When she raised her brow, he clarified, “In the head.”
“Do you expect to have sex with me or something?”
Liam shrugged. “You still cold? Your nose is red and your skin’s white as a ghost
.” When she didn’t say anything, he reached forward and pressed his palm to her cheek. “Cold as ice.”
His hand was molten heat on her skin but instead of flinching away from him, she pressed into his warmth. It was soothing, able to penetrate deeper than the heat from the flames or the blanket.
“What’s your name?”
The Mediterranean blue of his eyes sucked her in, clear and searching, waiting for her to answer. She stumbled over the word, “H-Heidi.”
When he removed his hand, she felt the loss. He stood and retrieved a mug full of piping hot water from the pot. She got up off the cold floor and sat on the bed, watching him silently as he moved around the small space. Taking the hot mug from him a moment later when he offered it to her, she held it up to her face and let the steam rise into it.
“How did you come to be here?”
“I was hiking with my friend Maggie. Well, there was this bee... anyway, long story short, I ended up falling over this cliff and the next thing I know I was being hauled through the woods by one of those horrible winged guys.”
“You fell from a cliff because of a bee?”
“It attacked me!”
He shook his head, a trace of amusement on his lips. “Scared of a wee insect?”
“It was not just a wee insect. It wasn’t a wee anything. It was a gigantic, buzzing, demon bug that was trying to sting me.” How could he not understand that?
“How is your shoulder?” he asked her, stepping up to her and peeling the blanket back.
She flinched when his fingers found the open wound just beneath the edge of the dress and her makeshift bandage.
“You’re still bleeding,” he said as he pulled his fingertips back, her fresh blood sticking to his skin. “And your hair is still wet.” He shook his head and pulled the blanket off of her.
She didn’t fight him. Instead, she stood so that he could take it, still clinging to her mug. She sipped the steaming liquid, feeling it warm her insides as it traveled down into her stomach.
“You have to take the dress off so I can see it properly,” he said and she immediately began shaking her head.
Up In Flames (Netherworld Series Book 2) Page 4
