“Why are you here?” Elin asked, her tone careful, considerate, not wanting to prick any sensitive nerves.
“That, I’m afraid, is a bit of a long story. I’ll try to condense it, though, to the basic facts. My family and I are originally from the city of Arslan, and within the city there were small pockets of those who preferred not to dabble in the business of the courts, choosing to go about our own business. We were the courtless, and for eons our decision was respected. Before the Great War, the Unseelie moved in and tried to force us to join their court, fight their battles, and become a token for their greed. My family refused to comply, as many others did.
“The Unseelie broke into our home one evening. I had gone to my room and was getting ready for bed when I heard the front door fly open and a rush of Dark Fae entered, swords raised.” Arwyn stiffened, her tone growing more caustic. “They killed everyone in their path. I had hidden under my bed, terrified and shaking.” She shook her head. “I remember the screams and the wet gurgling sounds as they slit the throats of my family.”
“Arwyn,” Elin said, aghast. “I’m so sorry.”
Arwyn lifted her chin, “One of them entered my room. I saw their boots make their way around the bed. I held my breath. I literally stopped breathing. When one knee touched the floor, I knew I had been caught.”
Searly noticed how Arwyn’s hands shook. He reached out and took one hand while Elin held the other.
With much resolve, she continued. “I looked into the Fae’s eyes and he looked into mine. It was the most frightening moment of my life. Before that, I could hear my house being torn apart while the other Unseelie searched for members of my family, but in that moment, when our eyes locked, I could only hear the sound of my own heart thumping in my ears.”
Softly, Elin asked, “What happened?”
“He brought his finger up to his lips, gesturing for me to keep quiet. Then he got up and I heard him speak to the others. Soon after, I heard them all leave. I was too scared to move. I thought maybe they left one behind or something. I waited under my bed for hours. Then, I heard someone come back and I thought…this is it. He knows where I am. He’s going to kill me.”
“But he didn’t,” Elin said softly.
“No,” Arwyn said. “He got back down on one knee and held out his hand. He told me that he wouldn’t hurt me and he would take me someplace safe.” She stopped and spread out her arms. “He brought me here.”
Searly and Elin gaped at one another, and then Elin asked, “Zeph? He was the one who found you?”
Arwyn began walking again and Elin and Searly were quick to fall in step. “Yes. Zeph was the one who found me and he has kept me safe. That is why I am here.” She stopped once more before entering the hall and said, “Zeph is many things, I know. He is a contradiction. No one knows that better than I.” Searly got the feeling she had tried to smile, but he knew that some smiles carried with them a weight too burdensome to bother. “However…” She paused, searching for the right words.
“However what?” Searly prompted.
Arwyn made a sound of weariness. “Never mind. Come. The hall is right this way.”
They entered the hall, where a long table had been decorated with fine linens. Gothic candelabras of differing heights were thoughtfully placed as centerpieces. Varying assortments of breads, cheeses, and fruits were spilling over in towers on one end and roasted beef, mutton, pork, and fowl on the other. Fish and vegetables filled in the gaps. Although the table was large enough to seat a wedding party, there were only four place settings.
Searly was perplexed. Glancing around the hall, he navigated his way forward, taking in every detail. Sconces were lit to brighten the room, but they only served to cast slender shadowy figures on the walls.
A door on the far side of the hall swung open and Zeph entered, wearing his usual long white robes. He moved across the room with feline grace, his eyes clear, sharp, and piercing, like shards of broken glass.
He greeted them with a curt nod. “Pardon my lateness. I am afraid I got tangled up in some rather unpleasant business.” He spread his hands out in supplication. “Let us eat, shall we?”
Arwyn moved to take her seat while Elin remained frozen to the floor, keeping her eyes cast away from Zeph as though she were afraid to meet him eye to eye.
Zeph sat at the head of the table and reclined back, like an emperor, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair. His gaze found Elin and he watched her for nearly a minute before he ordered, “Sit.” Elin jumped at the suddenness of his voice. He waited for her to look up, and then he pointed to the chair on his left. “There.”
She approached the chair like it was capable of biting. Slowly, she eased down and beseeched Searly, “Will you sit next to me?”
“Of course,” Searly said. He slid in beside Elin. “I haven’t seen a gaggle of servants. Who prepared this feast?”
Zeph flashed his white teeth. “‘Tis magic,” he said, and reached for a piece of freshly baked bread, golden brown, dripping with butter. “Would you mind passing the yams?”
“Searly,” Arwyn said, interrupting, reaching for the fish, “if you would like I can help in your research.”
Zeph chimed in before he could answer. “Ah yes. Your little research. Are you finding everything you need?”
Searly shifted in his seat. “The library is satisfactory, yes.” Searly picked up his wine chalice and drank, then set it down without further comment. Progress was slow in the making and he had no inclination to discuss it with Zeph.
“Allow me,” said Zeph, standing and reaching over to refill Searly’s goblet.
“We are your prisoners,” Elin said in a low voice.
“Pardon?” Zeph said, returning to his seat.
Elin’s head shot up, leveling him with a withering look. “I said we are your prisoners. What is all this? Why are you treating us to a dinner fit for kings?”
“I prefer the term guests,” Zeph replied.
“Guests,” Elin hissed, “come of their own free will, invited, and can leave of their own free will. We are not guests.”
Zeph carefully laced his fingers in front of him, appearing like he was trying to untangle his thoughts so he could articulate his words. “I do not hold you in chains and I have not kept you locked in the dungeon. However, I can if I so choose. As for now, accept my hospitality.” His canny eyes slid to Elin, his lips compressing until his jaw twitched. “I insist.” Unlacing his fingers, Zeph’s shoulders relaxed. “Now…” he said to Searly, “…the yams?”
Searly reached for and passed the bowl of yams. After that, the scraping of plates, wine being poured into goblets, and the usual sounds of people having a meal together were all that could be heard, minus the conversation.
A few minutes into dinner, every door leading into the hall opened with a bang. The candles on the table flickered like a puff of breath had blown over them. Everyone jumped. Everyone except for Zeph. He sat in his chair like he hadn’t a care in the world.
A beautiful devil entered the hall. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark velvet clothing, a surcoat worn over a black tunic with a heraldic symbol across the chest, black gloves, and black boots, flanked by an army of Unseelie. A crown of jewels was perched on his head.
A bead of sweat trickled down Searly’s back as he reached for Elin’s hand and held it.
“Ah,” Zeph said. “Let the games begin.”
Zeph’s face was stone, not a trace of emotion. “My king,” he said without standing. “So glad you came for a visit. Are you hungry?” He gestured to the bounty on the table. “We have plenty.”
King Savorin stood in the doorway. “You have disobeyed me, Zeph. I ordered the Faery of Light killed, yet she is sitting at your table?”
Zeph smiled, slow and oily, sliding along his features with a cruel, wicked grace. “I have decided to use her instead.”
“Oh?” King Savorin said. “Under whose direction?”
“Mine,” said Zeph, coming to a stand
. “I’m changing the rules.”
“Then you have most assuredly sealed your fate. I do not tolerate disobedience within my ranks.”
“I have declared myself my own ruler.”
The Unseelie king laughed and Zeph felt the laughter curl around him like a sickness. “No one leaves the ranks of the Unseelie unless by death.”
“Yes, I am well aware of how you keep those underneath you in line. But you see, dear king, I have something you want, so that gives me the upper hand.”
“I do not negotiate. I will simply take what I want. Why do you think I am here?”
“Oh, by all means,” Zeph pointed to Elin. “Kill her then.”
Searly stood, throwing his chair back, and pulling Elin with him, protecting her as best as any human man could who was surrounded by Fae. “No!” Glaring at Zeph he shouted, “What are you doing?”
Zeph didn’t even spare him a glance.
But the king did. “And who is this?”
“A human. No one to concern yourself with,” Zeph answered. “Are you going to kill her or not?”
The king narrowed his eyes. “What game are you playing?”
“No game. You came barreling into my home, interrupting our meal and making your usual demands. Kill this, kill that.” Zeph waved his hands dismissively. “I am rather bored with your demands and I am no longer taking orders from you. If you want her dead then kill her yourself.”
“Zeph!” Searly shouted. “Don’t do this!”
King Savorin pushed forward, angry as a wild boar. He threw his arms out in front of him like he was wielding his magic. The surprised look that swept over his face when nothing happened was a boon.
Zeph laughed. “Oh, I may have forgotten to mention your magic doesn’t work here.” Finally, looking to his dinner companions he said to Searly, “Take her over there,” he pointed to a corner away from Savorin and his minions.
Elin’s hands began to glow, the tiniest of tremors moved beneath their feet, though it was hardly enough to do any damage. The tremors diminished as quickly as they’d started.
Zeph looked at her, almost sympathetically. “Don’t try to use them again. It will only serve to weaken you.”
He wasn’t lying. Elin slumped against Searly, her knees giving way.
“Move! Now!” Zeph demanded, causing Searly to jump. “Take her over there and do not let her go.”
Searly scrambled to get Elin and himself in the far corner of the room. Once there, the shadows moved in and surrounded them, hiding them from the Unseelie king and his court of merry men.
“You fool!” the king snapped. “I will destroy you!”
“All right,” Zeph said, clasping his hands behind his back and stepping away from the table. “I issue you a challenge, then.” Arwyn was eyeing him with speculation. He could feel her weighing his every word. “I propose we fight to the death. If you win, you can kill the Faery of Light, catapulting you to the King of Faery, not just the King of the Unseelie.”
Savorin shook his head, his smile gleaming like the sharp edge of a knife. “My army will destroy you.”
Zeph returned the smile, flashing all his teeth, his canines dropping down over his lower lip. “Your army will not interfere. Arwyn,” he said, “kindly show the king your impeccable skills at disarmament.”
Arwyn had been silent since the minute Savorin and his court of murderers entered the hall. She would continue to be, for she didn’t need to utter a sound to prove her worth. She simply stood, turned toward the Unseelie henchmen, and released her invisible arrows all at once, striking them with excellent precision. They fell to their knees, eyes rolling to the back of their heads before collapsing onto the floor in an ungraceful heap.
The king spun in shock. “What did you do to them?” he shouted, turning his fury onto Arwyn, lunging for her with the quickness of a Fae.
Zeph was faster, blocking Savorin’s path in a blink. “She simply leveled the playing field, king.” Zeph shoved Savorin hard enough that he went sailing into the wall behind him. “Don’t worry,” Zeph hissed. “They are not dead. They’re only sleeping.”
Savorin peeled away from the wall and brushed himself off. “What do you want?”
“A duel. You and me.”
“What are the terms?”
“As I said, should you win, you get everything you ever wanted—to be King of Faery. Should I win, that means you will be dead.” Zeph appeared rather pleased with the prospect. “I can’t think of a bigger boon than your head on a spike.”
King Savorin shook his head and scoffed. “You want me dead so badly that you’d risk dying for it?”
“Yes,” Zeph answered without hesitation. “It would be my second greatest joy.” He wouldn’t think about what his first greatest joy would be. Not yet. One revenge at a time.
The king laughed like he thought Zeph to be a misbehaving child. “You have the benefit of magic. And you have made it clear to me that I do not.” He snarled. “It was a mistake to allow you to spend so much time in this pit of waste! I would be a fool to agree to this duel.”
Zeph held out his arms. “I will not use a lick of magic. We fight like humans. May the best man win.”
“No magic?”
“None. We can use swords or other weaponry and we fight to the death.” Zeph tilted his head in consternation. “Are you worried you can’t win? Have you lost the skill to fight with your sword?”
“No!” the king shouted, red-faced. He removed the crown of jewels from his head and placed it aside. “Shall we start now?”
Zeph removed his robes, revealing what he wore underneath: a white velvet tabard with gold thread, belted at the waist, with breeches, stockings, and shoes armed with long metal points. A sword swayed from his left hip.
Zeph peeked over his shoulder to ensure that Arwyn was out of harm’s way. She stood close to where Elin and Sealy were shadowed in the corner. Satisfied, he moved toward the center of the room where there would be no obstacles and unsheathed his sword, gripping it with both hands. It glinted in the candlelight.
Savorin unsheathed his.
The two faced off, eyes narrowed, lips curled, both standing with knees slightly bent, swords pointed at the other.
Savorin advanced first. Zeph parried, catching the tip of Savorin’s blade and throwing him off balance.
The corners of Savorin’s mouth tilted up. “I taught you well, young Zeph.”
Zeph responded by rushing forward and thrusting his sword at Savorin’s chest.
Savorin blocked.
The sound of steel striking steel echoed around the hall. A cacophony of grunts, curses, and taunts rang out.
“You will not defeat me, Zeph. Yield while you still can.”
Zeph rushed at the king in a series of strikes, their swords sparking and hissing at a frenetic pace.
Savorin jumped back. Zeph thrust forward, his sword tearing through the king’s surcoat with a sharp ripping sound. Blood trickled down his left arm. Savorin grunted and lunged, catching Zeph’s tabard. Zeph spun free, hissing when he felt the sharp tip of the blade slice his side.
Savorin laughed. “Yield, and I will let you live.”
Zeph wiped the sweat from his brow and resumed the position. “I am done yielding to you.” Zeph rushed Savorin, leaped into the air, sword aimed at his enemy’s throat. He came down in a battle cry, knocking the king to the ground.
Savorin held his sword with both hands, blocking as Zeph pushed forward with all his might.
“It is over,” Zeph said, pushing Savorin’s own blade within an inch of his throat.
“Never,’ Savorin seethed. With a tilt of his hip he threw Zeph off and quickly righted himself.
Again, the two faced off, their swords catching the light of the flickering flames, making a swath of rainbow colors on the walls.
Savorin, in a wild and bitter rage, came at Zeph and just missed stabbing him in the thigh.
Zeph retreated. Savorin followed.
Mov
ing in a blur, Savorin advanced and Zeph slipped in a puddle of blood, falling backward. He landed with a whoosh of breath.
The king bellowed his victory as he hovered over him, his sword pressed into Zeph’s neck. “You should have yielded while you had the chance.”
Zeph brought his left leg up, kicking between Savorin’s, using the metal point of his boot to slice his inner thigh. Savorin doubled over at the waist, stumbling away with a cursed grunt.
Zeph got back on his feet, pressing his hand to his side. The wet, sticky blood coated his palm. Every thrust and twist had ripped his wound open further.
Wiping the blood on his breeches, he watched the evil king stagger and that was when Zeph went in for the kill. Blade raised high over his head, he brought his sword down, only to have it met with a clang of steel.
Savorin swung his leg in a wide arcing sidekick. Zeph fell backward, his head smacking hard on the stone, his vision blurring around the edges. His sword skidded across the floor.
Savorin hovered over Zeph once more, sneering down at him. “Say goodbye, Zeph.”
Savorin held his sword in both hands and as he was about to pierce it into Zeph’s heart, the king’s eyes widened and blood spilled from his mouth. The hilt of a dagger jutted out of his neck.
Savorin fell to his knees and Arwyn’s face came into view, pale as a ghost.
Zeph shot to his feet, fearful Arwyn had put herself into harm’s way. Hastily, he retrieved his sword, and without hesitation, he cut off the head of the Unseelie king in one clean swipe.
The cloying scent of blood permeated Zeph’s senses, and for one brief moment he closed his eyes and took a steadying breath.
“He killed my family,” Arwyn whispered. “I couldn’t let him kill you too.”
Zeph opened his eyes and slowly turned around, feeling the gaping of his wound and the fuzziness in his head. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Get Elin and Searly back to their rooms. I’m going to throw these cretins you put to sleep in the dungeon.”
The Moon Shines Red (Heart of Darkness Book 1) Page 18
