The Castle of Fire and Fable

by Steffanie Holmes

  “A little bit, but I trust you. I don’t think you’re creepy.” I patted the bed again. “Please, come sit with me.”

  “I didn’t come up here with the intention of watching you. I didn’t know if putting the tray down would wake you, and so I was just standing here and—”

  I laughed. “Get over here, you.”

  Rowan perched on the side of the bed, as far from me as it was possible to be. After a couple of moments, he rethought his position and shuffled across so his leg pressed against mine. He slid the tray over our legs so it balanced between us. A plate of scones – two savory pinwheels stuffed with pesto, and two tall, fluffy sweet scones paired with bowls of jam and cream – sat on one side with a silver teapot and two cups on the other.

  “I’m still not sure about this tea business.” I frowned as Rowan picked up the pot and poured out two steaming cups.

  “I think you’ll like this one,” he said just as a sweet smell wafted under my nose. Raspberry and vanilla. How heavenly. “I have a collection of loose leaf herbal teas as well as the classic English brews. This is one of my favorites.”

  “Consider me converted,” I smiled, raising the cup to my lips and taking a long sip. “What’s the time? How early did you have to get up to do all this?”

  “It’s nearly lunchtime,” he grinned. “I got up about an hour ago, but everyone else is still in bed. Except for Corbin. He’s sleeping in a chair outside Blake’s bedroom.”

  “Huh?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Rowan buttered a scone. “He doesn’t trust Blake yet. I can’t say I blame him.”

  “I don’t get him sometimes. He wants what’s best for the coven, but he doesn’t want to accept any help… omigod, these are amazing.” The fluffy, buttery scone melted in my mouth and basil and tomato flavors exploded on my tastebuds.

  “Corbin is always thinking about us, about the coven. It’s his whole life. We’re his whole life.” Rowan said. “He’s never gone to university or nothing.”

  That surprised me. I’d seen Corbin translate at least three arcane languages with minimum effort. “But how does he know all that stuff? Half the time he sounds like a professor.”

  “Honestly, I don’t think the idea of going to university has ever occurred to him. Or maybe it has, but he’d just never consider it a possibility. He taught himself all those languages. He doesn’t really have other hobbies or interests. He rarely leaves Briarwood, and the only time I’ve known him to leave Crookshollow were the months he spent in Arizona at your community college, and even then he called the castle every day. Corbin’s family looked after the castle – and watched over you – his whole life. He sees this as his purpose.” Rowan snapped his mouth shut, as if suddenly realizing that he’d said four sentences in a row and had used up all his allotted talking time for the day. He cast his eyes toward Flynn’s iron sculpture on the wall opposite my bed, his lips moving silently as he counted the leaves that formed the stylized star map.

  “Did you want to say something else?” I asked.

  Rowan nodded. I waited until he finished counting. When he had, he lifted his teacup to his lips and took a long sip. His hand shook. “When Corbin first brought me here, I wasn’t doing so well. He said I might… cope better if I had something to occupy myself. So I started baking.”

  “Did you go to a class?” I tried to imagine Rowan in a room with a bunch of little old ladies, learning how to ice pink cupcakes.

  Rowan shook his head. “I don’t really do well with lots of other people around. Too much pressure. I watched cooking videos on Youtube, and Corbin brought me some cookbooks and I made a lot of bloody awful stews before I got the hang of it.”

  “What do you mean, you weren’t doing so well? Didn’t you want to be here?”

  “Very much so.” Rowan was looking away again, his shoulders stiffening. He tapped his foot on the floor in a regular rhythm. “But also not.”

  Rowan was wound so tight, unraveling the layers of him might take an entire lifetime. But I wanted to, so so much. I ached to dive inside him and swallow up his pain.

  “So what happened?” I pressed.

  Rowan turned back to me, but the look on his face said he was done with talking. His lips found mine, grazing my skin with such exquisite tenderness that my body melted against his. He slid the tray off our legs and I lay back on my pillow. Rowan leaned over me. His hands slid down my naked shoulders, pulling down the edge of the sheet and exposing my skin, inch by inch.

  I reached up and tangled my hands in Rowan’s dreads, loving the way they fell down the sides of his face and brushed mine. I’d never even seen a guy who looked or felt like him before.

  Rowan gasped against my lips as his hand cupped my breast. His touch shot fire through me. I leaned deeper into the pillows, sinking into a cloud of Egyptian cotton as I lifted my arms and pulled his shirt over his head. Rowan bent his face over me, taking my nipple in his mouth. So soft, so sweet, so delicious – just like his baking.

  His hands trailed over my skin, like butterflies fluttering from flower to flower. Rowan slid out of his trousers and dropped them on the floor, rolling on top of me and encasing me in the heat of his body. I opened my legs for him, and he sighed – a happy sound, soft and beautiful, a great release of tension. Rowan ducked his head, his dreadlocks falling over his face, hiding his face from me as he hid so much of himself.

  My fingers clamped the sheets as Rowan’s tongue slid between my folds. Slow, languid, heavenly. I savored every delicious moment. Each stroke reverberated through my whole body, oozing through my veins like liquid honey.

  The ache inside me hummed as it grew, pressing against my skin, demanding to be free. Right behind it was the pillar of fire – my spirit magic flaring up, raised from the ashes by Rowan’s devotion.

  Rowan’s hands gripped my thighs, pushing my legs up to get better access. His dreadlocks fanned across my stomach and his tongue… oh, god, that tongue…

  “If I’d known I’d be interrupting a party,” a strange voice said from the doorway, “I’d have brought some crisps.”

  I yelped, my heart hammering, remembering how Daigh whispered in my ear before we managed to close the gateway. Rowan’s eyes bugged out. He leapt back, toppling off the end of the bed and landing on the floor with a thud. I yanked the sheets up around my neck, but not before Blake had gotten a long, languid look at the goods.

  My cheeks burned. Can this bed just swallow me up now?

  But underneath the embarrassment, the magic still coursed through my veins. And I found myself hoping that both boys would crawl on the bed, roll down the sheets, and wrap themselves around my body…

  “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” I demanded, pulling the sheets over my face so I didn’t have to look at Blake and he couldn’t see how embarrassed or turned on I was. “Or did they not do that in the fae realm, either.”

  “I did knock, Princess. Several times. When you didn’t answer I thought you might still be asleep. I came in to make sure my very important message reached you.”

  From under the sheets, I could hear Rowan scrambling for his clothes. “Well, I’m awake. Give me the message and get out.”

  “I came to tell you that Corbin wanted to see us all in the library.” Even though I couldn’t see his face, I knew Blake was smirking. It was like his smirk penetrated behind my eyelids. “Now that I’m aware of the hidden joys of being the messenger in this house, I won’t bitch about it so much.”

  I yanked a pillow from behind my head and threw it at the door. Blake broke into laughter and his footsteps descended the tower steps. I lowered the top of the sheet as Rowan scrambled to his feet. “I’d better go,” he mumbled, pulling on his shirt.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Enjoy the scones.” Rowan was already racing down the stairs, his dreadlocks flying around his face.

  I rubbed my cheeks, but I could still feel the heat in them. My heart still hadn’t returned to normal. My pussy ached, u
rgently demanding attention, but there was no way I could deal with anything like that now, not after the shock of Blake turning up. I rolled out of bed, found an a-line skirt and a lilac V-neck tank that showed off my cleavage, and pulled them on. I ran a brush through my hair a few times (pixie cut for the win), swiped some eyeliner on, and went downstairs.

  Blake’s crystalline eyes zeroed in on mine as soon as I entered the library, and the heat flared in my cheeks again. He licked his bottom lip, and my heart thudded… but not from embarrassment. I remembered Blake’s fingers between my legs at the sidhe, and how good it felt to be pressed between two guys like that, both of them pleasuring me to call up my power…

  My spirit magic hummed in my veins, brimming against my skin from where Rowan had touched me, ready to be put to use. I folded my legs, hoping Blake couldn’t sense how much I wanted to be doing something else other than discussing our fairy issue right now.

  I tore my gaze from Blake and noticed that everyone else was here as well. Corbin sat at his desk, flipping through the pages of the coven’s grimoire, which now bore a distinctive round arrow hole through every page. Dark shadows hung under his eyes, and I noticed his fingers shook a little as he turned the page. Rowan was right – he’d barely slept. And for Corbin – who often stayed up late reading – that was saying something.

  Arthur stood by the window, his bulk leaning against a chair, Obelix purring from his arms. Rowan sat on one corner of the couch, looking about as uncomfortable as it was possible to look on the overstuffed sofa that threatened to swallow you whole. His eyes darted along the bookshelves, and I knew he was counting in his head. Jane sat on the other end of the couch, flipping through a stack of books, while Flynn sat in the middle and bounced Connor on his knee.

  “Now that we’re all here,” Corbin’s eyes darted between Rowan and I, his expression unreadable. “Blake has told me something interesting that may be the key to why Connor was deliberately targeted by the fae.”

  “Do we know he was targeted?” Rowan asked.

  “We do,” Blake said. “Daigh sent the fae after specific babies – children he knew hadn’t been baptized. He had a list of six of them, all born in Crookshollow within the last six months, and we were going after them all. Apparently, becoming an official member of the jolly Church of England makes you somehow improper for whatever spell he’s trying to cast.”

  “And you have no idea what that spell is?” Arthur asked. His voice was hard, but that hardness didn’t reach his eyes. He was getting ready to trust Blake.

  “If I knew, I’d have told you already. All I know is that unbaptised adults would do in a pinch, but for the most effective results Daigh wanted infantas free from sin. That’s all he ever said about it. Daigh didn’t exactly trust me. He had this idea that I’d betray him and run off to the human world as soon as I got the chance.” Blake glanced over at me, and that wicked smile played across his face. “What an idiot.”

  That smile reached right through my chest and grabbed my core, sending a shiver of desire through my whole body. My mind flew back to the sidhe, where Blake and Flynn had rocked my world, and to my bedroom, to that crazy thought I’d had that maybe Blake and Rowan together…

  “Then why did he send you into this realm in the first place?” Corbin said, his shoulders tensing. Unlike Arthur, Corbin was not ready to trust Blake.

  “When he sent me up to manage Connor’s abduction, that was the first time he’d ever allowed me to enter the human realm. And I had to go to pretty extreme lengths to earn that boon.”

  “Such as?” Corbin demanded.

  “You know that fae, Kalen? Dark silver tipped hair, eyes like broken glass, so dumb he needed to be watered twice a week? He was determined to do anything he could to place Maeve in Daigh’s hands, but you guys beat him up pretty bad. Well, now he’s not going to be a problem anymore.”

  “You killed him?” Corbin’s eyes narrowed.

  Blake shrugged. “That was what you were going to do to him, wasn’t it? But no, I didn’t kill him. Daigh did. I just implied that his incompetence was an unacceptable risk during these crucial days, and Daigh happened to agree.”

  “You admit that you double-crossed your own side?” Corbin growled.

  “I was never on their side.” Blake leaned back, folding his arms lazily behind his head, exposing the hard muscles of his biceps, ringed in black and grey knotted tattoos. “I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to escape for most of my life. I had no idea I’d fall in with such an understanding, hospitable bunch. Can we go for curry now? I’m starving.”

  “But you didn’t—”

  “So we have no idea why baptism is so important?” I asked. I wanted to steer the conversation away from Blake’s trustworthiness and back to the problem at hand.

  “For the moment.” Corbin held up a holey page of the grimoire. “I’m searching for an answer, but even with this new information it’s going to take some time. In the meantime, I think the most prudent thing we can do is try to protect the innocent babies of Crookshollow.”

  Jane looked disgusted. “If I want to protect Connor from this happening again, I have to get him baptized?”

  “I think it would be the best option,” Corbin said. “We believe we’ve got a few days before the spell on the gateway wears down. I suggest you organize the baptism before then, and if we can figure out who the other child’s mother is – and any other unbaptized children in the area, maybe we can convince their parents to undertake the ceremony. The rest of us have got to figure out a more permanent solution to holding the fae back, as well as what magic Daigh is trying to work.”

  “Can’t we just extend the protective ward around the castle to include the sidhe?” I asked. “That way, as soon as the fae tried to come through, BAM.”

  Corbin shook his head. “Those wards were put in place by an ancient coven, more powerful than us. Blake’s spell is only holding because it’s focused on such a small area, and even then it will only keep them back for a few days. When that time’s up, I have no idea what we’ll do.” Corbin looked over to Blake, but he shook his head.

  “Don’t expect me to have all the answers. Some of this you’re going to have to figure out yourselves.”

  “Don’t you mean ourselves?” I asked.

  Blake sneered. “You may be begging for my body, Princess, but your friends here aren’t exactly clamoring to offer me membership to your little club. I haven’t even gotten a curry yet, so I don’t see why I should help.”

  “I’m not begging for—” My face flushed. I stopped before I said anything that might give away what happened. Rowan looked at me with curious eyes.

  “Not that anyone listens to the Irishman, either. But for what it’s worth, I think Blake’s all right.” Flynn picked up the giraffe rattle Connor tossed on the sofa and handed it back to him. “It was because of him that we got out of that dream world alive and got wee Connor back.”

  Flynn glanced at me as he said those words, his blue eyes flashing with desire, and I knew he was thinking about what he and Blake did to me behind the sidhe. I’m with you, Flynn. I’d like Blake to stick around, too.

  “You’re absolutely right, Flynn,” Arthur said. “No one listens to you.”

  “Whether we trust him or not,” I said, fixing Corbin with what I hoped was a withering stare, “I think we’re stuck with him. So let’s try not to be… what’s the word? Wankers. Let’s try not to be wankers.”

  “I love when you talk English, Einstein,” Flynn grinned, flipping a red curl out of his eyes.

  “I trust him,” Rowan whispered.

  Corbin grunted. I wasn’t naive enough to assume that was agreement.

  “As far as I’m concerned, if he helped get Connor back, I’ll put him forward for a knighthood,“ Jane added.

  “Give us a few days, mate,” Arthur said to Blake. “We didn’t expect to be sharing Briarwood and M—” he paused and cleared his throat. I wondered what he’d been about to say. Was he
going to say ‘and Maeve’? A flash of one of my erotic dreams danced in front of my eyes, of all five of them surrounding me, their hands and mouths and cocks pleasuring me. I rubbed my bare arms, feeling the hairs stand on end, the tingles of my magic simmering under my skin. Goddammit, it’s getting hard to focus on anything with all this testosterone in my face all the time.

  “Speaking of that dream trip we took yesterday,” Arthur said. “I have some questions. Namely, how the hell did I end up with my sword?”

  “Mate, don’t question the Deus-ex-Maevina,” Flynn grinned.

  I snorted at his comment. “That’s hilarious, Flynn.”

  “I know.”

  “But seriously, I didn’t give Arthur the sword. I didn’t have anything to do with that. So how did it get there?” I glanced at Blake, who shrugged.

  “Don’t look at me, Princess. I’m not in the habit of doing favors for people who aren’t you. Best I could figure, when you drew these guys into the dream you somehow gave them the power to manipulate it.”

  “That would have been nice to know at the time,” Arthur said, touching his shoulder where a fae had given him a long cut with a bone blade.

  “Tell me about it. I could have got one of you to bring me a curry.”

  “As interesting as this issue is, we have to put it aside for now. It’s not getting us any closer to stopping Daigh.”

  “But how do we stop him if we don’t know what he’s going to do?”

  “We know what he’s trying to do. He’s trying to raise the Slaugh. But our ancestors sent the fae into Tir Na Nog precisely so they could never raise the Slaugh again. It’s supposed to be impossible. So we need to know why Daigh suddenly thinks he can do it.”

  “He said he had a weapon the likes of which we cannot imagine,” I recalled with a shudder. I’d thought that was the Slaugh, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was the means of raising them.

  How could that fae possibly be my father? I hadn’t had a moment since we returned to really register that. But the man who gave me half my genes wanted to raise the spirits of the dead and wipe out the population of the earth. My stomach churned.