Relics and Runes Anthology

by Heather Marie Adkins

  They rejoined the court in the throne room and Rori saw a budding redness on Dorchmeir’s chin. Therron stood apart, his jaw tight, brows drawn. She drew a deep breath of relief at the sight of Therron, alive. She’d suspected Dorchmeir would abuse the elf once out of the presence of the queen. Apparently, he hadn’t learned to keep his violent temper under control since the Academy. Rori met Therron’s gaze, a silent question in her eyes. He half nodded and flexed his fists before his features softened.

  Eirlys took her seat upon the throne and Rori joined Therron at the foot of the dais. A hush fell over the room as the gathered nobles waited for the queen’s judgement.

  “In light of recent revelations, all charges against Rori MacNair and Therron Mistwalker will be dismissed.” An audible groan rose from the audience. “Quiet. My gracious, did you expect a beheading? You lot really need to rethink your purpose in life.”

  Rori hid a smile, knowing Eirlys hated the lazy courtiers who hung around the palace waiting for gossip. Or, sometimes even inventing it if they were bored enough.

  “Rori, you’ll go to the Unseelie queen and ask her to attend the meeting in two days’ time. You, sir,” she directed her attention to Therron, “will remain here.”

  “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I should accompany Rori to Queen Midna’s court. It would be less tedious for all involved.”

  “Nonsense. You’ll stay here. No more arguments.”

  Therron growled low in his throat. “Your Majesty, I’ve been tracking Acelyne and must caution against sending Rori without me.”

  Eirlys glared at the elf a full minute before she spoke. When she opened her mouth, the room let out a collective sigh. “If you’ve been tracking the enchantress, you’ll have valuable information to share with us. Rori is capable of handling herself.” The queen leaned forward. “No. More. Arguments.”

  Therron’s face turned stormy, but he didn’t utter another word.

  “Esme, you and Dorchmeir will accompany Rori to the Room of Mirrors, but you are not to enter with her. Rori, you know what to do.”

  Rori nodded and dropped a low curtsey before she turned on her heel to leave the throne room. Her gaze connected with Therron’s for a brief moment and she was struck by the uncertainty in his eyes.

  She didn’t have time to consider what he might be thinking. Her mind raced with how she was going to convince Midna to not throw her in the dungeon and to travel with her to the vale.

  None of the three spoke during the short walk to the room where Rori could travel to anywhere in Faerie, and beyond the human realm if she’d wanted. Long ago, she’d heard her father talking about worlds beyond worlds, all connected by doorways like they had in Faerie. Rori had thought him mad at the time, but the more she learned of the mysterious portals, the more she’d begun to believe he’d spoken true. At the memory of her father, her heart pinched. She missed him as much this day as the first.

  “Well, go on, then. You heard the queen. Only you can enter the room, useless twat.” Dorchmeir gave her a vicious shove and she turned on him like a viper striking their prey.

  Dagger drawn, it rested a hair’s width from his belly. At Esme’s bewildered stare, Rori softened. It was entirely possible the young woman had never seen this side of her soon-to-be betrothed.

  “If there is so much as a scratch on the elf when next I see him, I will consider it a personal attack, Dorchmeir. Are we clear?”

  “Aw, how cute. The little elfy needs protection from little Rori.” His singsong voice nearly broke her resolve. Instead of responding with a boot up his ass, she turned to Esme.

  “Until we meet again, my friend.”

  Esme nodded, but said nothing.

  Rori turned back to the room and took a deep breath. Going to the Unseelie court would be easy. Not getting caught in Midna’s traps would not. She gently closed the door behind her and took stock of each mirror. They ran the length of the room, from floor to ceiling. Each silvered reflection was bordered by an ornate, intricately carved frame. It was those carvings that told Rori which mirror to use. Anyone not versed in Seelie ciphers wouldn’t have an inkling where to begin. The clues were ancient. As old as the palace itself, yet always changing. As long as someone knew the original key, they could decipher the code.

  Rori didn’t need a code to know the mirror farthest from the door, placed between two other hulking plates of glass that reflected her image, was the doorway to the Uneelie palace. When she became Eirlys’ personal spy, the queen had shown Rori how to warp the mirror into a portal that would whisk her to Midna’s kingdom in seconds. It was a fail-safe in case anything happened to the Seelie queen and Midna’s help was needed. As much as the two queens bickered, Rori suspected there was more admiration and support than either would ever claim.

  She glanced at the mirror, at the wan appearance of the girl standing before her. It had been a long day. Her wild blue hair hung across her shoulders in a wavy mess. Mud smears tracked up both arms of her leather jacket, and the beginnings of a small tear just above her knee could be seen in her jeans. An uncomfortable thought floated through her mind.

  It wasn’t that she was afraid of what Midna might do to her that she’d been reluctant to leave Therron behind. Nor did she think Eirlys would harm the elf, which, considering her animosity toward his race, she might. It was something else. Something elusive she’d never felt before. Jealousy. Raw, emotional, disastrous jealousy. She was so fucked.

  10

  Eirlys sat on her throne, her fingertips thrumming a beat only she could hear. Therron waited for her to speak, his gaze traveling from the ornate chair, so similar in size and shape to Midna’s, up to the soaring arched ceiling. Light streamed in from windows high above their heads. The entire palace was bathed in light, as if it somehow was necessary. Whereas Midna used thick fabrics to block the light, Eirlys courted it.

  He took in the tapestries and paintings around the room. They, too, reflected a relationship between the Seelie court to the light. Behind him, courtiers shuffled uneasily. Far down the hallway, he heard a door close and he knew Rori had entered the Room of Mirrors.

  If Therron could’ve stopped her from going to Midna’s palace, he would have. But he knew, just as Eirlys did, that Rori needed to see the Unseelie queen on her own. Therron would’ve been a distraction she didn’t need. That peculiar twinge in his heart started again. Best not to think of what Rori would experience at the hands of Midna or her fabled servants.

  “Join me in my chambers, elf.”

  Therron jerked his attention to Eirlys, who now stood on her dais, her steady gaze penetrating his soul. “Your Majesty?”

  “I wish to speak with you privately.” Without giving him a reason, she turned and stepped down from the raised platform toward a set of doors in the back of the throne room.

  His options were limited—stay in the throne room to wait for that bastard Dorchmeir to return, or follow Eirlys. As much as he’d like to continue the scuffle they’d had while Rori was conversing with her queen, he chose the latter.

  A guard held open the door for him but did not follow Therron into the wide corridor where Eirlys strode several feet in front of him. He lengthened his gait to catch up, noting the smile she wore when he fell into step beside her.

  Neither spoke as they padded along the carpeted hallway. At a set of huge, gilded doors, Eirlys stopped. Two guards held pikes crossed at their tips and challenged the queen.

  “Oh, let us in. If you hear me scream, you may kill him. Otherwise, we’re not to be disturbed.”

  The pikes were moved, the doors opened, and Eirlys beckoned him into her private chambers. Soft fabrics in varying pastels covered the floors, walls, and drifted from the ceiling. The sheer femininity of the room surprised Therron. Eirlys presented herself as a hardened ruler who brooked no nonsense in her court, yet this space oozed sumptuous luxury. The furnishing practically begged to be sat upon. His gaze flicked from one mirror to the next, taking in the subtly erotic paintin
gs interspaced between them.

  And they said Midna was the sex-crazed ruler of Faerie. If only they knew what secrets the Seelie queen hid behind her frosty façade.

  “Come. Join me.” Eirlys floated to a sofa, her gown swirling from the deep rust velvet to a barely-there sheer fabric that left nothing to the imagination. She arranged herself on the sumptuous cushions, her gown pooling like a cloud around her.

  “I’ll stay here, thank you.”

  “Oh, please. I thought you above these silly games, Therron Mistwalker. Or, should I call you Your Highness?” A wicked smile creased her lovely face. “You might have Rori fooled, but I make it my habit to know who’s traveling within my borders.”

  “It’s not my wish to fool anyone, especially Rori. But it is my experience that once someone knows you’re royalty, there are certain,” he paused to take in the scandalous outfit, “expectations. I find there’s freedom in anonymity.”

  Eirlys reclined into several pillows, exposing her pink nipples in the process. “I’m afraid I don’t have that luxury. But I do understand expectations.” She made a circling motion with her right hand and a nearby table filled with fruits, pastries, meats, cheeses, and bread. “Hungry?” She snapped and several jugs appeared. “Or would you prefer something to drink?”

  Therron helped himself to a mug of ale. “Can I get you anything?”

  Her laugh came out bitter. “Dear boy, never ask that of a queen.”

  “Refreshments. Do you require any food or drink?” At her slight nod, he filled a small plate and took it to her. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Midna—if you wish an heir, or a spare, you’d do well to look elsewhere.” He practically dropped the plate in her lap. “I’m not a stud for your stable, nor will I share your bed.” Without asking permission, he sat on a chair just out of arm’s reach of Eirlys.

  The queen’s eyes sparkled with hidden mischief. “You denied Midna as well?” As she sat up, her gown returned to the heavy velvet folds. “Tell me, was she terribly disappointed?”

  “No more so than I think you are. Fae and elves are not meant to mate.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” She sucked the pip from a cherry and spat it into a nearby fireplace. While she chewed, Therron had the uncomfortable sense that she was measuring him, but for what, he couldn’t say. “What were you doing working for Midna?”

  “She hired me to find Acelyne. I can only assume your spy wasn’t cutting it and she needed to bring in someone new.”

  Eirlys chuckled at this. “I doubt very much that Cian could fail at anything. More likely, she needed you for a specific reason. No matter.” She reached out and stroked his cheek. The feel of her fingertips upon the scarred flesh was like maggots writhing against the sensitive skin.

  Therron held himself still. His mind screamed at him to draw his dagger and stop the assault, but that would lead to certain death. Queen or not, she had no right to touch him. That peculiar pinch in his heart turned to a stab and his nostrils flared with suppressed anguish. When finally she lifted her fingers from his face and leaned back, he forced himself to stay seated. Every nerve in his body twisted until he was certain he would spring from the chair.

  “How did you get that?” Eirlys nodded to his cheek as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t felt the rush of rage and anxiety that he’d had to quell at her touch.

  “If it’s all the same to you, ma’am, I’d rather not say.” He rose and placed his mug on the overflowing table. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell Rori who I am. I think that would be best coming from me.”

  “I haven’t given you permission to leave.”

  “Nor have I asked for it. But then, you aren’t my queen.”

  She stood, her eyes aflame with indignation. “You will obey my laws while in my kingdom. I am the ruler here and you will respect me.”

  “What I will respect, Your Majesty, is someone who understands the meaning of the word. You tried to seduce me, then you accosted me inappropriately. These are affronts I do not take lightly. Until you apologize sufficiently, I will bid you farewell.”

  Therron strode from the room without a glance at the queen. She could have him hanged for what he said, but he doubted very much that she would. His time with Midna had served him well with Eirlys. He’d had to learn to ignore his baser instincts and not let a pretty breast or sumptuous mouth entice him into less than moral circumstances. Not that he was a prude by any means, but he knew he was meant for something more than pleasuring a lusty queen.

  He passed the guards outside Eirlys’ rooms and quickly put as much distance between himself and the Seelie queen as possible. A page scurried out of his way, only to chase after him a moment later. He didn’t wish to be distracted from his ire, but the page insisted on showing him to his room.

  The palace was as large as Midna’s, with as many turns and corridors. Therron had always thought the fae palaces had been built to make visitors dizzy, to keep the unsuspecting unbalanced. They were tricksters, the fae. Although elves weren’t perfect, they certainly didn’t behave as outlandishly as Faerie’s two present queens.

  At the door to his room, which was gratefully far from Eirlys’ chambers, the page sniveled and whined about what an honor it was to serve him. Therron nodded and thanked the man as a prince should, the entire time wishing he could’ve remained anonymous. At least Midna didn’t announce to her court who Therron was, or use his royal status against him.

  Instead of touring the rooms as the page would have liked, Therron peeked inside, declared them adequate, and closed the door to the helpful albeit annoying man. He’d spied a desk with paper, pen, and blotter and did not need one of Eirlys’ servants hovering over his shoulder as he wrote his note.

  He sat at the desk and tapped the quill to his lips, debating the exact right words. The nib scratched across the parchment as he wrote, the ink staining the fibers with every stroke. When he’d finished, he blotted the page and before folding it, pressed his palm against the words. It was a simple thing to spell the paper, but he added a curse to anyone who was not the intended reader.

  With a smile on his lips, he left his rooms and headed for the gardens. For once, he thought perhaps he could gain footing on the witch.

  The gardens were bathed in fading twilight when he emerged from a side door and Therron took a minute to gaze at the multi-colored sky. Swathes of pinks, purples, oranges, and blues streaked across the horizon. Soon it would be full dark and Rori would be laying her pretty head down to sleep in one of Midna’s guest rooms. He could only hope Cian would take care that Rori remained safe in her bed.

  A pang of guilt sliced across his chest. He should be there, not Cian. It was Therron’s duty to remain by Rori’s side, and yet he’d let her leave to journey on her own. Beneath the guilt, Therron knew it was the right decision. Had he entered Midna’s court with the girl, the Unseelie queen would’ve played her childish games of jealousy and ownership. It might’ve taken precious time they did not have to convince the queen that the threat of Acelyne was far more real, and far more dangerous, than they’d previously thought.

  Therron closed his eyes and cleared from his mind the unwelcome vision of Rori, alone, standing before Midna. She was a warrior at heart. She did not need him to protect her.

  It was that reason why he felt the need to do exactly that. She might be a damsel, but she wasn’t in distress. And even if she was, she could damn well save herself.

  His heart gave that odd pinching again and he rubbed his chest to alleviate the pain. If this didn’t stop soon, he would seek out a healer and have a potion made up to cure him of the affliction.

  The sky darkened to a glittering field of diamonds spread across a blanket of cerulean. It was time. He lifted his face and made a silent call. Within moments, an owl swooped from the treetops to his outstretched hand. His talons wrapped around the thick leather of his glove.

  “My friend, I need you to deliver this at once.” Therron spoke to the c
reature in the elvish tongue. The owl ruffled his feathers and clacked his beak in reply. “Thank you.”

  He attached the letter to the owl’s leg using a strip of leather and lifted his arm for the owl to take flight. Silently, he wished the bird a safe journey.

  The cool metal of a sword’s blade touched the underside of his chin and Therron stilled.

  “What was that you sent?” Dorchmeir’s voice came from Therron’s side, just beyond his sight.

  “A message that doesn’t concern you.”

  “I’m sure Queen Eirlys will be interested to know what it contained.”

  “I’m sure she would. Why don’t you take me to her and we’ll discuss it.”

  The blade cut into his skin, sending a wave of pain down his neck. A warm trickle of blood oozed over his days’ worth of stubble.

  “We don’t need your kind here, elf.”

  “I suppose you don’t. Yet here I am.” Therron spun away from the blade and toward Dorchmeir, his fist connecting with the man’s middle.

  The soldier let out an “Ooomph!”, followed by several curses. Before he could recover and attack Therron, the elf landed several more punches to his ribcage, followed by a solid hook to his jaw. Dorchmeir stumbled backward, tripped on a raised flower bed, and fell to his side. Therron stood above him, rage wafting off him like steam. He drew his boot back and kicked the dirt licker between his legs. It was ungentlemanly, but effective. Dorchmeir had been an arse to Rori and deserved nothing less.

  “You’ll pay for that, elf.” The soldier spit the words at Therron, his face the color of a beetroot.

  Therron wiped the blood from his neck and studied his fingers. Then, he retrieved Dorchmeir’s sword and held the blade above the man’s heart. “I’ve known men like you. Small minds with even smaller pricks. You bully and bluster to make up for your shortcomings. I haven’t lived as long as I have to take your bullshit. So no, I won’t pay for this. Not in any currency.” He threw the sword on the ground beside the man and strode away.