The Castle of Earth and Embers

by Steffanie Holmes

  37

  MAEVE

  My father.

  Daigh waved an arm, and his litter turned away. Smooth hands grabbed me, and Blake dragged me with him, following behind the litter. Several of the green-guards and other fae in long black cloaks fell in step beside him.

  “He’s… he’s joking,” I choked out.

  Blake shook his head, his face impossible to read. I realized I believed it. After everything that I’d discovered about my life, my past, over the last weeks, nothing took me by surprise any more. Of course my father was a fae, and not just any fae, the king of the violent Unseelie Court. It makes perfect sense.

  We drew up beside the litter. Daigh chuckled, and in his smile, I realized the cause of the weird feeling – it was recognition. I’d seen his smile before… in the mirror. “We fae are tricksters, but in this case, I am being entirely truthful. Your mother and I had an arrangement. We met under the light of the full moon, down in the Briarwood meadow, for a ‘roll in the hay,’ as you humans like to say. Unconventional – a fae and a witch – but we both wanted a child, and that desperation does play havoc with the mind, to the point where even the unthinkable becomes desirable.” Daigh clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth in a way that made me shudder. “And your mother, in the heat of the moment, she bucked against me like a little filly in the stables—”

  “Don’t talk about my mother like that,” I growled.

  “Like what?” Daigh laughed. “Like a whore. You humans do so relish that word – a word with the power to discredit a woman, to render her impotent even as you grant her the sexual appetite of a tigress. Your mother knew exactly what she wanted and she took it – she would have made an absolutely enchanting fae. The only thing I do resent is the fact that she trapped me in this forsaken place and hid you from me. But I waited. I knew you would show yourself when you came of age. As it was, I didn’t even have to wait – those hapless witches of yours led me right to you.”

  “Well, you didn’t manage to kill me, so I would think the title of hapless should go to yourself.”

  The litter halted outside the entrance to an enormous barrow. This one was on the outskirts of the revels – the door framed with garlands of vivid blue and purple flowers that gave off a pungent, sickly-sweet scent. The king stepped down, his pointed leather boots hitting one of the litter-bearers in the face as he crossed the threshold. Blake dragged me inside after him. The king whipped his head around, and fixed me with a perfect, pearly smile. “Whatever made you think I was trying to kill you?”

  I gulped. “The Ferris wheel… my parents…”

  “They were not your parents,” the king said, his voice suddenly stern. “Come, daughter. From here, you will rule over your own kingdom. Those humans could never give you anything that compares to that.”

  I dug my heels into the dirt floor, but Blake was much stronger than me. He simply scooped me up – thrashing legs and all – and carried me into the sidhe. The round chamber was lit by the glowing beeswax candles set in enormous chandeliers made of bleached bones – femurs and shoulder blades and pelvic bones forming intricate, almost Rococo-esque filigree that cast jagged shadows across the dirt floor. Some of the bones were animal – enormous creatures, the likes of which hadn’t been seen on earth for millions of years – but others were clearly human and fae.

  The dim candlelight could not hope to penetrate into the darkest corners of the vast room. A vaulted ceiling rose above us, crossed with twisted vines and hung with yet more garlands. In the center of the room a pair of thrones stood – one larger than the other, both made of twisted vines and bleached bones and covered in cushions of ivy.

  The king sank into the larger of the thrones, pushing his crown further up his forehead. His glittering eyes caught the light. He patted the cushion beside him. “I achieved exactly what I intended when I got rid of those people and your scholarship and your house.”

  “You took my scholarship—” Rage burned inside me. Of course, I should have seen that a mile away. Without the scholarship and my parents house, I had nothing tying me to Arizona, so it made perfect sense to go to England. Corbin’s letter played right into Daigh’s hands…

  Blake dumped me in the chair beside Daigh, but I crawled out of it, toppling to the floor. Bastard. Like hell I was going to sit beside that man, not even for a moment. Every terrible thing that has happened in my life could be tied back to his evil, and he dared to sit there grinning me like he was the cat and I was a saucer of cream.

  A circle of guards closed in around me, but they didn’t make a move to touch me. “It was I, not your witches, who returned you to England,” Daigh said. ”You are in your rightful home, ready to take over your destiny as the rightful Queen of the fae.”

  This is insane. “I’m not the queen of anything. I’m not a fae. I’m a witch. That’s how I managed to project the whole coven into the fae realm through my dream.”

  The king laughed. “Do you think if witches had the power to cross over into our realm, that we would still be here? No, dear daughter, if that were true humans would have journeyed here long since, pillaged this place of all its beauty, and turned it into another outlet mall or theme park. No, it is your fae side that has brought you here, that kept you hidden from us.”

  “I’m not a Rubik’s Cube. I don’t have sides.” There was a commotion behind me, and several of the king’s attendants disappeared from the dark room to investigate. I almost imagined I could hear cheering echoing from outside, and my heart sank to think that they might be cheering because my boys were being killed.

  Maybe Blake’s vision was coming true after all. Maybe I’d find my guys impaled on stakes, their mangled bodies burned beyond recognition.

  Speaking of Blake… I glanced behind the king, but I could no longer see Blake there in the gloom. I climbed to my feet, peering over the heads of the fae, searching the dark corners of the cavernous room. Where is he?

  “It is my hope that over time, you will fully embrace your fae side,” the king said. “You will learn to be happy here. Blake has found that he can survive in Tir Na Nog, even though our food is poison to him. But once you restore us to our rightful place, you will have all the human slaves you could need to bring you your favorite delicacies.”

  “I’m not staying here,” I protested. “I’m not helping you. I’d sooner die.”

  “You won’t have a choice.” Daigh – my father – waved away one of his attendants, who was trying to whisper something urgently in his ear. “My fae have killed your precious witches. Your power alone will not be enough to hold us back. My soldiers are on their way to your world now. They will have their human agent return your body to us. Once we are in possession of your body, we control you—”

  “You don’t control shit.”

  My heart soared as Arthur rushed into the room, his arms raised above his head and a terrible look of rage and vengeance on his face. The glint of the lanterns shone off the blade of his sword as he swung it down, cutting up the first line of Seelie guards who tried to halt him.

  His sword. How the hell did he manage to find that?

  Great and terrible was my Arthur’s rage as he slashed that weapon into fae flesh, staining the dirt floor with green blood. He bellowed as he hacked and slashed, his feet darting and weaving, his body poised and graceful – performing his dance of death. The room erupted into chaos as the screams of dying fae filled the air, and guards and court fairies trampled over each other in their haste to make for the one exit.

  My chest swelled. My Aragorn.

  Behind him came Flynn, his fists whirring through the air, a bone knife raised high. He may not have had Arthur’s skill with a blade, but he had a brawler’s anger and he fought dirty, sweeping out legs and kneeing crotches and smashing his fist into noses and throats. He followed in Arthur’s wake, cleaning up his mess as they moved around the perimeter of the room.

  And behind them both, staying close to the wall, was Rowan. His face was drenc
hed with sweat and blood as he held Corbin’s stiff body up and dragged it behind him, Corbin’s arm slung over his shoulder.

  “Kill them!” The king roared at his panicking fae, but no one seemed to hear him. I rose to my feet and rushed toward my boys, but my feet stuck fast to the ground. I yanked and yanked at my legs, but they wouldn’t move.

  Daigh’s eyes glinted in triumph. He held his hand out in front of him, the palm pointed directly at me. “You will not be going anywhere with them,” he spat.

  “Touch Maeve and we’ll hurt your prince,” Arthur roared.

  I whirled around. I don’t know how, but Flynn had Blake under his arm. Blake’s own arm hung limp at his side, a jagged cut across his shoulder the likely cause. Blake’s eyes bore into mine, cool and surprisingly serene, as Flynn’s bone blade pressed up against his throat.

  “You’re making a mistake,” Blake warned.

  “Shut up,” Flynn growled, pressing the blade against Blake’s skin. A thin line of red blood streaked across Blake’s throat.

  The king laughed, wiping spittle from his jaw. He waved his other hand at Flynn. “Fine. Kill him if you must. It is of no consequence to me.”

  “I will,” Flynn yelled, pressing the bone blade deeper into Blake’s throat. Blake tried to say something else, but all that came out was a strangled cry.

  My chest lurched. “Flynn, don’t,” I said, not really sure why I was trying to save the guy who’d betrayed us. I tried to fling myself toward them, but the king still held me glued in place.

  Panic rose in my throat, and I realized with startling clarity that I was watching the beginning of the deaths of my boys. As good as Arthur was, soon there would be reinforcements, and a single shot from one of those deadly recurve bows and he would never swing a sword again. I couldn’t see a way out of this, unless…

  Unless I gave myself up. Unless I did what the king asked.

  “I’ll do it!” I yelled at the king. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll stay here with you and rule your kingdom, but you have to let the guys go free.”

  “Maeve, no,” Arthur growled, sliding his blade into a sprite who tried to latch on to his hair.

  The king grinned. “Ah, so she does see reason. That’s my girl. I’m sure that if your gentleman puts down his iron weapon we shall be able to come to some kind of arrangement.”

  “Arthur, put down the sword.” My voice wavered. My whole body trembled. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  The idea of staying with Daigh, of becoming like the fae, turned my stomach. But if I wanted to save my boys, I didn’t have a choice.

  “Arthur, Flynn, please,” I begged. Tears streamed down my face. “This is the way it has to be. He killed my parents just so I’d come here. I can’t have your deaths on my conscience, too. Please…”

  “He’s a fae. You can’t trust him,” Flynn hissed, pressing that blade harder into Blake’s throat. “Even if he is your father, it doesn’t mean anything to him. He’s going to let his own son die.”

  “Perhaps you would take his place?” The king asked Flynn. “Blake’s not my biological son. He’s just some baby I stole before I was banished here. I thought he’d be a fitting lover for my daughter once she came of age. But if she has found more worthy suiters, I obviously have no need of him.”

  “Unlike your boy here, we don’t need your help to find a girl,” Arthur stepped forward, slicing through a horned fae that stood in his path. “You’re not getting the earth back, no matter how many fae you send after us.”

  Two black-clad fae leapt at him, but instead of attacking them, Arthur flicked his sword back over his shoulder, slashing a vine that rose to the ceiling. His blade sliced clean through it. The wine whipped up over their heads, and my gaze followed it up, realizing with a start what Arthur had done.

  Now free of its rope, an enormous bone chandelier crashed to the ground, right on top of Daigh’s throne.

  The throne collapsed, and Daigh was flattened to the ground by the weight of the chandelier. He moaned as a scapula pinned his chest. A heavy arm of bones crossed over his legs, bending his knees at impossible angles. Green blood poured from a deep wound on his head. His mouth hung open, but all that came out was a bubbling, strangled gasp.

  Fae rushed forward to help their king, but one swing of Arthur’s sword cut them down and sent them back against the walls.

  I collapsed to the ground, my feet free. I picked myself up and ran over to the guys, flinging Corbin’s other arm over my shoulder and taking some of the weight from Rowan.

  “Maeve…” Daigh managed to choke out, his eyes rolling back in his head.

  “She’s not yours to take. If you want Maeve, you’re going to have to get through us first,” Arthur slid his blade through the king’s hand, driving it deep into the earth.

  Daigh’s wheezing scream sliced the air. Smoke curled from the edges of the wound as the iron did its work, poisoning his skin and drawing out his magic. Arthur stepped back, whipping another bone knife from his belt.

  “Get it out!” Daigh yelled as he tugged at his hand, but the sword held him fast to the ground. The skin around the blade withered and curled up, like dead leaves in fall. The fae quivered against the walls, too afraid to touch the iron blade.

  “Maeve,” it was Arthur, his hand on my arm, pulling me toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice!” I lifted Corbin higher on my shoulder. Rowan and I raced behind Arthur as he pushed his way through stunned, terrified fae and out into the crisp moonlight.

  38

  MAEVE

  We raced for the trees behind the sidhe, crashing through the undergrowth, no longer caring how much noise we made. My chest heaved as I struggled to carry Corbin’s dead weight… oh God, I hope he’s not dead. Please, don’t let him be dead.

  The sky darkened overhead as we ran, darkness creeping in much faster than was natural, but I guessed nothing was truly natural here. Arthur bowled through the trees ahead of us, his enormous limbs tearing leaves and snapping branches, clearing our way. If only he knew where the hell he was going.

  Flynn huffed behind us, dragging Blake along, his blade still pressed to Blake’s throat. Blake tried to yell something, but his words turned into bellows of pain as Flynn socked him in the jaw.

  All around us, fairies leapt and danced through the trees, chittering to each other in their foreign language. They stayed well back, nervous around Arthur, even though he no longer had his sword. But I could see they were closing around us like a crab’s pincers. Soon we’d be completely surrounded.

  “What the fuck do we do?” Flynn yelled.

  “We have to keep going,” Arthur said. I could barely see his outline ahead through the gloom. “We’re heading to the valley, but I don’t know how to get back to the place we came in.”

  “There’s no bloody point,” Blake yelled. “You need to get to the gateway—”

  His words cut off as Flynn punched him in the jaw again. “Shut your pie hole, or I’ll shut it permanently next time.”

  The chittering grew louder, more focused. The fae were coming.

  “Arthur,” I moaned. My arms and legs burned. Beside me Rowan puffed, his entire body drenched in sweat. Corbin’s body snagged on every branch and bramble.

  Maeve, listen to me. Blake’s voice reached my ears, but the sound wasn’t coming from behind me. It was inside my head. How the hell was he doing that? You have to listen to me. I can hide you, I can save you, but you need to trust me.

  “No way in hell,” I muttered out loud, my breath coming out in ragged gasps as I struggled on another few steps. I screamed as an arrow whizzed past on my left, burying itself into a tree trunk.

  Fine, die here in the forest riddled with arrows like a porcupine. That’s your prerogative. Or, you could hide in the enormous hollow log up here on the left, and I’ll cast a glamour to lead them in the wrong direction, and you and all your merry men can live to be fools another day. Your choice. />
  Was I supposed to trust this guy after he betrayed us, exposed us to the fae? He was clearly playing games with me, just like his father… our father, I reminded myself with a shudder. But he had a point – the fae were getting closer. We wouldn’t outrun them. I glanced around, searching the gloom for a place to hide.

  Hollow log… hollow log… There it is! I caught a glimpse of an enormous fallen log jutting out across the forest floor. I pulled Corbin toward it, dragging Rowan along with me. Sure enough, rot had hollowed out the log so we could fit inside, and with the direction the fae were coming, there was a chance they’d head right past without seeing us.

  “Arthur, Flynn,” I hissed. “Get in here.”

  Rowan and I dragged Corbin inside, his legs scraping over the rotting wood, pulling up curls of bark. Flynn followed, his arms tight around Blake and his hand clamped hard over his mouth. Arthur crouched on the end, his bone blade raised, ready to make a last stand should this not work.

  Please let it work.

  The fae host thundered through the forest, flitting between the trees or swinging from the branches like monkeys. Flickers of white sliced through the trees as slivers of moonlight caught their bone blades, and their teeth and claws gnashed and tore at the trees. My whole body shuddered with fear.

  I crouched as low as I could in the log, pressing my body into the damp bark and wishing like hell it would swallow us up and take us back to Briarwood.

  No. Not until we find what we came for.

  I held my breath as the fae passed us by, their grisly host moving deeper into the forest. As soon as we could no longer hear them, Flynn breathed a big, dramatic sigh. “That was close. Good job spotting the log, Maeve.”

  “It wasn’t me. Blake was the one who saw it. He sort of… told me about it.”

  “What the fuck?” Flynn released his hand from Blake’s mouth.

  “Yeah, I’d be very interested to know how you did that,” Arthur said, training his knife on Blake’s chest.