Fae's Captive (Fae's Captive Book 1)

by Lily Archer

  “I’m not going to kill you. I just met you, for crying out loud!” I press my palm to my forehead. It’s covered with a fine sheen of cold sweat.

  Leander doesn’t intervene, just stares at me with an intensity that seems to grow by the second.

  “But I need to go home.” I hate how helpless I sound.

  “This is a step toward home.” Gareth still doesn’t rise.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “So, if I say the words, we can get as far away from Tyrios as possible and find a way for me to go home?”

  “Yes, we will be leaving Tyrios behind, and yes, you will be going home.”

  I narrow my eyes. “I’m pretty sure your definition of ‘home’ isn’t quite the same as mine.”

  “Even so.” He shrugs but doesn’t move from the floor.

  “What if the only way back is here somewhere? I mean, I woke up in the dungeon. Maybe that’s the way to get back?” I chew my lip.

  “Did you see any way out when you were there?” He still doesn’t look up.

  “Well, no.” I search my memory. “There was just stone and bars and some hay. No other way in or out.”

  “Then you were likely brought here through magic. It’s not specific to this place. Magic runs through all of Arin.”

  “Arin?”

  “This world. There are many, but this is Arin.”

  “Arin. And magic.” I swallow the disbelief that tries to overwhelm me. “So, I can go back with magic?”

  He’s silent for a beat too long, then says, “Perhaps. We have certain magic wielders in the winter realm who will know better than I can tell you. My magic is more of a … destructive variety.”

  At least it sounds better than going back to the dungeon. “What are the words again?”

  “Bladanon thronin.” I repeat the words and even wave my hand a little like the queen of England might.

  Gareth’s grin lights up his entire face, his black eyes glinting like jewels. He speaks to Leander, who rises and clasps forearms with him, both of them painted with happiness.

  I run my fingers along the stone at my neck. At least I have this tiny piece of familiarity. Something to lead me back home.

  Leander eyes the movement, his brows drawing together for a second before he turns back to Gareth. He doesn’t like my opal?

  “Gareth?”

  “Yes, my queen?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not a queen.”

  “Not yet. But soon.”

  I grind my teeth together. “Call me Taylor. That’s my name.”

  “It’s not customary. But I will do as you wish.”

  “Taylor it is.” At least I can control that one little thing. It’s the base. I can build on it until I either wake up from this bizarre dream or fight my way back to reality. “Can I ask you for one thing?”

  “Anything, my que—Taylor.”

  Leander barks out a question, and Gareth responds. Maybe explaining our conversation in fae. Leander relaxes a hair and re-focuses on me.

  “What is it you wish?” Gareth asks.

  “There’s a woman in the dungeon. She tried to help me. I can’t just leave her there.”

  “A prisoner?”

  “Yes. Her name was Lenetia of something-or-other. I can’t remember her master’s name. Is there any way you can free her before we go? She said her master was particularly cruel and she had these—” I gesture toward my arm. “Fang marks all over her. Anyway, she needs help. And she’s a changeling like me.” Changelings stick together, she had said.

  He relays my words to Leander, who seems to weigh my request before giving Gareth a curt nod.

  Gareth bows his head toward me for a moment. “I will free her.”

  “Be careful. There’s a snake monster thing guarding her,” I offer.

  Leander stands and motions Gareth toward the door where they converse in low tones for a moment.

  After that Gareth leaves in a rush.

  “My queen.” Leander takes my hands in his and kisses each of my palms.

  “Did Gareth teach you that word?”

  He smirks but doesn’t answer.

  “Okay, but I’m not really a queen.” It finally occurs to me that when I first saw him, he was wearing a crown. Am I supposed to be his queen? “Whoa.” I pull my hands back. “You and I aren’t a thing. I don’t know you. I don’t even speak your language.” I stand, almost walk toward where the dead fae’s body was, then change course toward the back of the room.

  Strong hands on my shoulders stop me, and Leander turns me to face him. I have to crane my neck back just to meet his midnight eyes. He pats his chest again. “Home.” Then he takes my hand and rests it over his heart. “Home, Taylor.”

  He’s so gentle with me. But I need him to understand that I don’t belong.

  “My home is far away from here. I have to get back. I have finals coming up soon. And my roommate will miss me and …” My words fade as I remember Cecile and the woman who looked just like me. Cecile—she did this, she’s the reason I’m here. “My roommate. She sent me to this world somehow. Her magic. And there’s another me. How is there another me?”

  Leander smooths his rough fingers along my wrinkled brow and speaks to me low and soft, his voice like a warm blanket. I have no idea what he’s saying, but it’s clear he wants to comfort me.

  “I think my brain is broken.” I sigh.

  He wraps his arm around me and pulls me tight.

  This is the most contact I’ve had with another person in my life. My mother certainly isn’t a hugger, and I never let anyone else get close to me. I’m too damaged for it. But this man with the pointy ears and muscles of steel doesn’t know that. Doesn’t know me.

  “Hey.” I grip his sides. “I don’t know what you think this is, but I’m not your queen. I’m not even sure if this is real.”

  He tips my chin up. “Mine.”

  “Gareth teach you that one, too?”

  The smirk reappears and sends warmth shooting to my every extremity.

  “I’m not whatever you think I am, okay?”

  “Mine.” He repeats, his low voice vibrating through me.

  “I’m not—”

  The door opens, and Leander has me pushed behind him and his sword brandished before I can even look to see who it is.

  Gareth hurries in, a large bag slung over his shoulder and another in one hand. He tosses the one from his shoulder onto the bed. It squeaks and moves until Lenetia’s thin face appears.

  “This female is descended from the spirits that shriek in the burning woods of Galendoon!”

  “If that were true, I’d have burned you to ash already.” She struggles out of the sack.

  “She tried to take one of my eyes with her filthy fingernails.” Gareth grumbles and pulls a dress and some other clothing from his bag.

  Leander positions himself between Lenetia and me.

  “It’s okay.” I pat his back, my hand comically small against his broad expanse. “She’s a friend.”

  “Am I?” She looks around. “This oaf pulled me from the dungeon, but they’ll send the Catcher for me, I’ll be recaptured, then fed to my master’s vampire hounds. Thanks for nothing.”

  I try to sidestep Leander, but he isn’t having it. I have to talk around him. “We’re leaving this place. You can come with us.”

  “No.” Gareth frowns and shakes his head. “No way this guttersnipe is coming with us. She’d knife us in the back as soon as she could.”

  “Just you,” she simpers sweetly.

  Gareth growls and points to a dress he’s laid on the bed. “For you, Taylor.” He says my name as if it tangles on his tongue.

  I try to peek around Leander to catch Lenetia’s eye. “You can come with us.”

  Gareth sours. “We shouldn’t—”

  “Didn’t you just swear an oath to me?” I don’t recognize the sharpness in my voice, but it pulls Gareth up short, so I go with it. “Well?”

  “Yes.” His long sigh is
paired with a cutting look at Lenetia, then he has a quick discussion with Leander. When Leander laughs, the low notes rumbling through the room, I lean a little closer.

  Gareth says something I can only imagine is a curse in fae and turns to Lenetia. “Behave, female. One wrong step, and it will be your last.”

  She sticks her tongue out at him.

  “You should change. This will help you fit in enough for us to get off the palace grounds once night falls.” Gareth points at the dress he’s laid out. It’s a pale gray, simple yet nice.

  “Thank you.” I grab the dress and peer around the room. “Where can I change?”

  “There’s a bathing chamber at the back.” Gareth jerks his head in the direction of a doorway.

  I head towards it, then stop. Turning around, I address the hulking man at my heels. “I have to change.”

  He gestures to the bathing room and grabs my hand, leading me to it and stepping across the threshold.

  “Alone,” I say pointedly.

  He cocks his head to the side as if he doesn’t understand, but this time I’m almost certain he knows what I’m saying.

  “Alone.” I point to myself and then the bathing room, then hold one finger up. “Just me. Not you.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest, his thick biceps straining against his shirt, and says something in fae.

  “I’m not changing in front of you.” I mimic his stance, arms crossed. “I can wait all day. But I was under the impression we were in a hurry.”

  Lenetia snorts and speaks to him in fae.

  He responds with a glower and a few words.

  She shrugs and gives me a half smile. “He won’t leave you alone.”

  “I’ve noticed. Tell him I’m just going to change and then I’ll be right back out. Between you and me, I need to pee, too.” I glance at him, the glower still pulling at his lips. “Tell him I need privacy.”

  “Alpha fae like him don’t understand privacy. Especially not when it comes to their mate.”

  “How do you know they’re mates?” Gareth rests his hand on the sword at his waist.

  “Calm down.” She leans over on her elbow, the picture of relaxation. “Anyone can see it. Just look at him. He’s like a vampire hound on a scent. Can’t take his eyes from her.”

  “That information is not to be tossed about, especially not while we’re in enemy territory. If anyone learns that the king of the winter realm has found his mate—”

  “Mate?” I nibble my lip. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

  “You two are bonded.” She puts a grubby fingernail between her teeth. “Or, you will be. You obviously don’t feel the bond yet.”

  “What?” I can’t even begin to put all my questions into words.

  Gareth gives an exasperated huff and speaks to Leander.

  “Grumpy Fae here is explaining that you want privacy.” She cocks her shoulder toward Gareth.

  After a litany of words, Leander steps away from the door, but not far. He leaves just enough room for me to shimmy past and gives me a look that seems both angry and concerned at the same time.

  “This may be the last time you get to do anything without King Muscles over here,” Lenetia calls. “So enjoy it.”

  I press the door closed and lean against it. Mate? As in the way animals pick a mate? Does that mean he expects to … have sex with me? I bounce my head against the door. Surely not. We aren’t even the same species. We don’t know each other. That’s ridiculous. But when I remember the way he holds me, the heat in some of his looks—I press my thighs together and try to banish those thoughts.

  A low growl pulses through the door.

  “Whatever you’re thinking about in there, stop.” Lenetia’s laugh floats through the wood. “He can smell your—” She clears her throat. “He can smell if you’re thinking about him, let’s put it that way.”

  He can smell my—I glance down and then turn every shade of red.

  “Quickly, Taylor. Night will be here soon,” Gareth calls.

  “Okay.” I push away any thoughts of mates or what Leander can smell. “Jeez,” I whisper to myself. With a tug, I pull the shirt off and lay it on the edge of a deep copper tub. The dress slides down my arms and into place. It falls to my ankles and hugs my breasts and hips. But it’s made of a thicker material, so I don’t feel too exposed. Bright daylight pours through an open window over the tub. The scent of flowers, so thick it’s almost cloying, floats on a warm breeze.

  I glance at myself in a floor-length mirror. Everything looks fine, I suppose, though my forehead still has an ugly bruise and my lip is puffy. I’m about to step back toward the door when a movement in the mirror catches my eye.

  Before I can scream, Tyrios’s hand claps over my mouth.

  8

  Leander

  I can feel her distress before I hear the sounds of a scuffle. With a roar, I burst through the bathing room door.

  Tyrios has my mate by the throat, a dagger in his other hand. The terrified look in her eyes will haunt me until I take my last breath.

  “Release her.”

  “She belongs to my family, to me!”

  Gareth is at my back, sword drawn. But I don’t need him. I already know how this is going to go.

  “I won’t tell you again.” I step closer, but when Tyrios raises his dagger to her side, I stop.

  “I can kill her here and now. It is my right,” he snarls. “This changeling is garbage, but she is my garbage.”

  “She is my mate. The queen of the winter realm.”

  He sputters, his silver eyes widening. “A changeling mate?” His surprise changes to amusement. “Typical that winter realm filth like you would find his mate in a human, baser even than the lowest fae.”

  “Release her now, and I will make your death quick.” I palm my silver blade, the metal smooth against my skin.

  “Your mate is my slave.” He grins. “You can’t have her. I won’t allow her to be taken by some Unseelie pretender who plays at being king when—” The surprised look in his eyes is almost as sudden as the gargling noise in his throat.

  I pull Taylor from him and push her behind me. Gareth whisks her away as I approach Tyrios and slide my throwing blade from his neck.

  “I was going to leave you here, unmolested.” I knock the knife from his palm as he sinks to the floor. I follow him down, not letting him escape my gaze. “You would’ve had more time, months, maybe even years, before I traveled back to Byrn Varyndr to end you for touching her.”

  He presses a hand to the wound, but the blood is pouring too swiftly.

  I pry his fingers away, crimson coating my skin, and lean even closer as the silver begins to darken in his eyes. “I’m glad you came.” I laugh, the sound echoing through the bathing chamber and carrying with it the bite of the winter wind. “Your corpse will be a warning to any who seek to harm my mate.”

  His mouth moves, trying to form words, but only a wet whisper escapes.

  “This will not bode well for our alliance.” Gareth lurks in the doorway.

  “No, it won’t.”

  “Shall I finish him, my lord?” Gareth asks.

  “No.” I sit back on my haunches. “I offered him a quick death. He refused.” I want to sit here and watch his eyes turn a dead gray, but my need to comfort Taylor transcends my ire.

  “Watch him. When he’s dead, we leave.” I stand and brush past Gareth.

  Taylor is huddled on the bed, the other female petting her hair and speaking to her in the changeling language. When I see tears in her eyes, it spurs me onward. I rush to her and elbow the tiny changeling away.

  “I am sorry.” I pull her to my chest, and she lets out a sob. “I swore to keep you safe. I will forever live with the stain of failing you like this.” I kiss her forehead and rock her. “Tell her,” I urge the other changeling.

  She wrinkles her nose but translates my words.

  Taylor mumbles something back to her.

  “She says it’
s not your fault.”

  She’s wrong, but I don’t argue, just hold her tight as she shivers. When I think of Tyrios putting his hands on her, I want to kill him all over again.

  Gareth strides from the bathing room. “He’s gone to the ancestors, or more likely, straight to the Spires.”

  “Good.” I rub Taylor’s back as her crying lessens.

  “Killing Tyrios.” The changeling woman winces. “That’s not going to go over well with the queen.”

  “We don’t intend to address it.” Gareth grabs the few things in the room that belong to us and stuffs them in his pack.

  Taylor wipes her eyes and leans back. “Thank you.”

  I know what those words mean, at least. “Welcome,” I say as best I can.

  She nods and takes a deep breath.

  “Are you ready to go, my little one?” I tip her chin up and meet those startling blue eyes.

  The changeling translates.

  Taylor nods again. “Ready.”

  My need to claim her thrums in my veins. When I caught her scent earlier, I was only a hairsbreadth away from breaking down the bathing room door and answering the mating call. Perhaps her mind hasn’t awoken to the fact of our bond yet, but her body has. Even now, I can scent what remains of her arousal, and it makes my mouth water. One little taste couldn’t hurt. Take her. She belongs to you. She will thank you after you sink inside her and seal the bond. Take her now. I shake my head. Those are the thoughts of a feral fae, of the beast that hides deep inside the heart of every timeless creature. But I would not listen to it. Not give in. No matter how I ache to feel every inch of her.

  I set her on her feet. “Changeling—” I point at the waifish one. “Lenetia, is it? You will serve my lady. See to her needs, and teach her our language. Do this, and you will be welcomed in the winter realm.”

  “As a free changeling?” she counters.

  “All are free in the winter realm.” Gareth shoulders his pack. “Even changelings.”

  “We’ll see what being free is worth when the summer realm finds out about Tyrios.” She casts a glance to Taylor. “But lucky for you all, I rather like your naïve mate.”