The Iron Locket (The Risen King)

by Samantha Warren

  Arthur wasn't ready to let it go, though. He stepped over to Rogan and gripped his arm tightly. "What about the scream, Rogan? What was that with the smoke and the wind?"

  The servant kept his head low but raised his eyes to his master. "A banshee, my lord. Somehow, the dog infected Miss Aiofe with a banshee."

  *~*~*

  NINETEEN

  *~*~*

  Agonized screams echoed off the stone walls as Kane made his way through the labyrinthine dungeon. He hated this part of Leanansidhe's castle. Each door had bars in it, putting the mutilated faeries inside on display. It sent wicked shivers up his spine and he was always sure one of her vile creatures was going to try to touch him. His hand rested unconsciously on his sword, his fingers white as they clenched the hilt. He found the door he was looking for and pushed it open, not bothering to knock. The smell hit him immediately.

  "Ugh." He buried his nose in the crook of his elbow as he advanced into the room. His eyes scanned around, noting the dried blood on the floor and bits of something he didn't want to think about on the walls. "What is that smell?" he asked as he walked over to Leanansidhe.

  She stood beside a table. Strapped to it was a dark-haired faery with a pale complexion. The battle had been good to her. Lots of unclaimed bodies were lying around long enough for her to claim several. The ploy was successful. She would have a full army in no time.

  She stabbed a serrated knife into the faery's stomach. He groaned weakly, but didn't move. "Meltholite," she said, waving the bloodied knife toward another table behind them before plunging it back into the faery.

  Kane turned his head just enough to see the table from the corner of his eye. He quickly turned back. Gray and black body parts littered the area and the brief glimpse curdled his stomach. Instead, he studied the living faery's face. He was clearly one of Mab's, but not anyone he knew personally, just an underling. The man's pale skin was paler than normal, almost transparent in the eery light cast off from the captured fire faeries darting around the glass lanterns overhead.

  "What did you want?" Kane was eager to move the meeting someplace less gruesome.

  "Ah, yes." Leanansidhe straightened, pulling the knife from the gaping stomach with a sickening slurp. "Borton!"

  A faery about half of Kane's height scampered in through the doorway, bowing obsequiously. "Yes, my queen?"

  She held out the knife to him. "Finish here. I have work to do."

  He lowered himself even further as he took the tool from her hand. "Yes, my queen. As you wish, my queen." He was still bowing as she wiped her hands and led the way from the room.

  "Queen?" Kane raised an eyebrow and tossed a sideways glance at the dark beauty walking beside him.

  Her blood red lips curled into a smirk. "I figure I better get used to the title, since it's going to be mine soon anyway."

  He was silent. The battle had committed him to this war. There was no way around it. His own sister had seen him aiding Leanansidhe. But his heart still tightened in his chest with each betrayal he wrought and he wasn't thrilled about sharing the throne with someone like Lea. She reached the stairs before he did and he let her lead the way, watching her supple curves slither in front of him. Another part of him shrugged. Maybe sharing more than a throne with her wouldn't be so bad.

  "So who was the girl?" she asked as they entered her study.

  Blood rushed to his ears and his chest throbbed. "What girl?" He raised his chin, willing his voice to remain steady.

  "The human girl, the red head. She's a pretty little thing," Lea continued as she settled into her chair, crossing her long shapely legs. "And she has quite the aim." The woman shrugged a shoulder and winced with the motion as annoyance flitted across her face. "I bet she was one of your mother's little toys. She would make a wonderful addition to our army. Your mommy would love that, wouldn't she?"

  Kane's eyes narrowed and his fingers twitched toward his hilt, but he pressed his lips together and bit his tongue.

  Leanansidhe's pouty red lips curled seductively as she stood and prowled across the floor. “Anyway, enough about your evil mother.”

  Kane leaned up against her desk, feeling his pants grow tight. As she reached him, she traced her lips with her tongue, the sharp point at the end of it flicking out across her teeth as her eyes locked with his. She reached out to him, tracing a fingernail over the fabric. A moan escaped his lips as he arched toward her slightly. His chest felt constricted and he fought desperately to control his breathing. Despite his attempts, he found himself panting like a dog and groaning as all four of her clawed fingers raked across his package.

  "You're are wound so tight, Kane. It's been too long since you've relaxed. Let me help you," Lea cooed as she pressed against him, her ample breasts tight against his chest.

  He closed his eyes, his only response an indecipherable grunt. She gripped his cheeks with her other hand, forcing him to face her. He opened his eyes and saw the hunger he felt echoed there. With his mind shrieking in protest, he leaned forward and savagely pressed his lips to hers. He forced her mouth open and sent his tongue delving into the deeps within. She gave easily and returned his kiss with ferocious passion.

  Her fingers went deftly toward the clasp holding his pants up. “Do you know what won me over, when I knew you were going to be my general,” Leanansidhe murmured into his ear as she tugged at the fabric. “It was when you took the fall for killing that girl, Titania's hunter. No one but Titania knew it was me. Why she let you take the blame I will never understand.”

  Kane froze. For two decades he had searched for Caena's killer, longed for his revenge, and here she was the whole time, right beneath his nose. And he was about to give himself to her fully and completely. His stomach churned as images of his murdered lover flashed in front of him. With shaking hands, he yanked his pants up and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  *~*~*

  TWENTY

  *~*~*

  A warmth spread across Aiofe's face, pulling her from the strange and fitful dreams that interrupted her sleep. She cracked a bleary eye open and surveyed a small portion of her surroundings. A slim ray of sunshine shone past the thick curtain, falling across her as she lay on Arthur's wide bed. While the young woman yawned and stretched, she gazed wistfully at the empty spot beside her. She had tried so hard to get him to join her, but the soft snores coming from the other side of the thick curtain dividing the room made her smile nonetheless.

  Aiofe rolled to the edge of the bed and swung her feet to the floor, curling her toes into the thick carpet. With a bit of effort, she pushed herself up, using the night stand to steady herself before she walked the short distance to the window. As she left the carpet, the bare stone felt cool on her feet and helped to energize her a bit. When she reached the window, she leaned against the sill and pulled back the curtain a crack. The training yard was below. Two dark-haired men sparred in a dirt circle in the middle while another polished his armor near a shed. One with chin-length greasy hair was on a horse, shooting arrows from its back at targets that were swinging wildly on a string. The day before was a jumble of scattered images, but she recognized him after a moment. He was the one who had offered her a ride. Travis? Or was it Tristan?

  "How are you feeling?"

  A pleasant shiver ran through Aiofe when she heard the voice behind her. It washed over her, starting at her ears and trickling all the way to her toes. She turned her head, her breath catching in her throat. His blond hair was sticking up at odd angles and his clothes were a bit rumpled, but Arthur looked fine otherwise. Quite fine. A smile broke across her face as their eyes met.

  "I'm alright," she said, then shrugged. "Well, mostly. My arm still hurts a bit."

  He stepped up beside her, pulling the curtain all the way to the side so he could see out the window, but his eyes remained on her. He held out a hand. "Here, allow me to take a look."

  Her arm floated up to his and he took it gently. When he broke the gaze, she blin
ked as if pulled from a trance and let her smile fade a bit, though the warmth in her heart and stomach did not. His own smile dropped, the outer edges of his mouth pointing toward the ground as he pulled the bandage off the wound. He tilted her arm a bit, letting the sun graze the open area. It looked much better than it had when Rogan bandaged it the previous night, but it still oozed a strange purple pus.

  "Wait here," Arthur said as he stepped away from the window. He grabbed a small glass jar off the nightstand and returned to her. He took off the lid and slid a finger into the blue gel inside. With a tenderness Aiofe did not expect out of a knight, he slathered the gel around the edges of the wound before carefully coating the raw center. Then he wrapped a clean bandage around the whole thing. "Is that too tight?"

  Aiofe shook her head. He finished tying off the end and wiped off his hands. "There you go. All set." His smile returned with force.

  The young woman found herself blushing and turned to look out the window to hide her pink cheeks. "Are those your men?"

  He took a step closer and she could feel the heat emanating off of him as his arm brushed hers ever so slightly. "Yes, they are. The two that look like twins are Balin and Balan." As he spoke, he pointed, indicating that the one who had just felled the other was Balin and the one on the ground was Balan. A brief flash of the previous day came back to her momentarily as more puzzle pieces slid into place. "Balin was always the better swordsman, though I would trust them both with my life. The knight on the bench is Kay, my foster brother and one of my closest confidants."

  "And the man on the horse is Tristan, right?"

  Arthur nodded. As his head tilted forward, she could feel his breath on her ear. It sent shivers down her body. "Yes. He was the one who brought you to me. And I am ever so grateful that he did." Arthur's voice had dropped to a murmur as he spoke, his lips coming closer and closer to the delicate skin just behind her ear.

  Aiofe shuddered as his hand slid around her waist, the warmth in her stomach sliding further down her body. She leaned back into him, her hand finding his, her wounded arm tracking up to brush the tips of her fingers across his cheek.

  A resounding knock sounded at the door. The warmth in her lower regions abated quickly, replaced by a strange giddy embarrassment. She felt like a schoolgirl having just been caught by her father. She cleared her throat and smiled at Arthur as he stomped from the curtained room.

  "My lord." She did not recognize the voice echoing from the doorway.

  "Ah, my good friend, come in. There is someone I would like you to meet."

  Aiofe straightened the dressing gown she was wearing as best she could.

  "Wait here for a moment, if you could." Arthur stepped around the curtain, pulling it further closed behind him before walking over to her. He didn't pause until he was standing so close they were nearly touching. She looked up at him, wanting more than anything to press herself to him, to run her fingers through that beautiful blond hair, to--

  "My dearest friend would like to meet you, but I thought you may want to get dressed first."

  His eyes darted from her face and she realized she had lost the grip she had on her gown, revealing more than she had intended. His appreciative smile was quickly replaced by an embarrassed scowl. "My apologies, m'lady," he whispered as he stepped back. "I do not know..." He cleared his throat. "When you are ready, we will meet you downstairs in the dining hall. I will have the servants bring us something to eat."

  "Okay." Her voice came out strained to her ears and she gave him a smile to cover it up.

  With a bow, he disappeared once more behind the curtain. She listened to the two sets of retreating footsteps until they were shut out by the door. Relaxing with a sigh against the window sill, she looked back down into the courtyard. The man with the armor, Kay, was staring up at her, a lustful smirk on his face. She glared at him and turned, yanking the curtain shut behind her. Releasing an annoyed sigh, she looked around her. The room was darker with the curtain closed, but the flickering candles were enough to see by. Her frown deepened as she wondered who lit them. They must have been in there when she was asleep. That idea gave her the creeps until she decided it must have been Rogan. She was going to have to get used to castle life, she thought.

  She searched around the room, but her clothes were nowhere to be found. When Zela helped her change the night before into the dressing gown, she assumed her clothes would be washed and returned, but no such luck. Resigning herself to her fate, she headed over to the full-length mirror propped in the corner.

  "Oh my God..." Her normally straight hair was a mess. She cast a glance around the room but she couldn't see a brush anywhere. Sighing with frustration, began tugging at it with her hands, trying to untangle some of the knots.

  "Miss, would you like some help?"

  Aiofe spun around so fast that she tripped over the dressing gown and nearly lost her balance, catching herself on the nightstand. A young girl of no more than thirteen stood at the opening between the two curtains. She was semi-transparent, much like a ghost, but she was carrying a tray in her hands and had some clothing tucked under her arm. Aiofe narrowed her eyes at the girl. "Who are you?" The question came out harsh and even Aiofe winced at it. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting anyone. What's your name?"

  The girl floated into the room, placing the tray on a small table that had been near the chaise. She picked up a pitcher and poured some water from it into a small basin. "My name is Lilia. I am your servant, m'lady. Please have a seat and I will fix your hair."

  Lilia picked up the basin and a brush from the tray and glided across the floor to the chair near the mirror. Aiofe sat on the edge of the chair, her shoulders tense. Taking a cloth from the basin, Lilia twisted out most of the water, then pressed it Aiofe's neck. Aiofe pulled away, shooting a look of confusion at the girl.

  "I am helping you bathe, miss." Lilia said it like it was the most natural thing in the world and her face echoed Aiofe's concern. Unable to find a valid argument, and realizing she smelled a bit rank, Aiofe nodded and let the girl continue. The water held a pleasant sent, like lavender and vanilla, and soon the servant girl's deft hands had Aiofe's skin glowing beautifully.

  "Were you the one who cleaned me up while I was out?" Aiofe asked as the girl worked.

  Lilia nodded. "Yes, miss. I will take care of your every need while you are here. Anything you need, just ask and I will be there. The king made it so."

  Aiofe tilted her head. "The king?"

  Lilia tossed her a sideways glance in the mirror as she moved to untangle Aiofe's hair. "Yes, m'lady. King Arthur."

  Aiofe mouthed the words. King Arthur. Tristan. Kay. "Wait..." Lilia stopped moving, her fingers buried in the red locks. Aiofe waved a hand. "No, sorry. I didn't mean you. I was just thinking." The girl resumed her work, silence settling over them as Aiofe kicked herself mentally. How had she not realized Arthur was the Arthur? It all made sense. But why was he here? Why now?

  Lilia was done much quicker than Aiofe would have been and her long hair glistened in the candlelight, done up in an intricate braid twirled around her head. Aiofe smiled. "Thank you," she said.

  Lilia turned with a slight smile on her face and picked up the clothing from where it lay on the bed. She held out the pants to Aiofe. They were supple leather, like the ones Zela had been wearing. She slipped them on. They felt soft against her skin and molded to her body better than her favorite pair of jeans. She took the shirt Lilia offered next and slipped it over her head. It was a peasant style, not something she would have chosen, but the fabric was comfortable and the intricate gold embroidery was more beautiful than any Aiofe had ever seen.

  When she was dressed, Lilia went to one of the armoires and removed a leather jacket, much like the one that had been destroyed. She slipped into it and looked in the mirror once more. She was washed, her hair was done up nicely, and she had to admit that she looked pretty darn cute in that outfit. With Lilia's help, she slipped on a tall pair of boots. As she watc
hed the girl lace them up, she realized her arm hadn't hurt once during that whole time. She twisted it gently, but all she felt was a minor twinge.

  As Lilia finished, she stood and picked up her tray. "They are waiting for you in the dining hall," she said with a short bow. Then she turned and disappeared once more behind the curtain.

  With one last glance in the mirror and a few deep breaths, Aiofe followed the girl out the door.

  *~*~*

  TWENTY-ONE

  *~*~*

  Aiofe wandered down the stairs, pausing briefly at the landing. She couldn't remember being brought inside the castle the first time and she couldn't hide the smile on her face as she examined all the tapestries and other artwork on display. Footsteps echoed from down the hall as she stared at a gilded bust on a marble stand. She tensed as they approached and stopped behind her. Awkward silence ensued. Somehow she knew it wasn't Arthur and turned with apprehension.

  Before her stood the man from the training yard, the one who had leered at her. He was about Arthur's height but nothing like him otherwise. He had dark hair, a carefully trimmed goatee, and wore a lurid smirk. She took a step back, then lifted her chin and cleared her throat. "Hello," she said, keeping her tone even.

  The smirk grew deeper and the man cocked an eyebrow. His eyes trailed down her body and back up, lingering in places that made her blush with discomfort. "Hello," he said finally as his gaze returned to hers. "Come."

  He brushed past her and stomped down the stairs. After a baffled moment, she frowned and glared, but he didn't pause to see if she followed. With growing annoyance, she trailed behind, walking as slow as she could while not losing sight of him altogether. When he disappeared into a room, she scampered to the door and peaked inside.