To Claim A Fae

by Mila Young

  “Any thoughts on who killed him?” My voice slices through the silence.

  “Many hate him,” Luther muses. “Both in the court and outside.”

  “The killer was brazen. He got him in the heart, the blade driven down to the hilt. Whoever did this stood in front of him as he committed the murder,” I state.

  “There was no sign of a struggle,” Luther adds. “Means it’s someone he knew to get that close and for guards to see nothing.”

  “Unless they’re in on the attack?” I suggest and glance over to Ahren. “What do you think?”

  He doesn’t look our way, just keeps staring out the window.

  Luther cocks a brow. “What’s the plan then?” he asks. “We all know what’s coming next, right?”

  Ahren turns his back to the snow-stained glass and leans against the frame, arms folded over his chest. He stares at me with contempt, but it’s not aimed at me. He’s the one that’s going to save the day, and that means a massive sacrifice, whether he likes it or not.

  “We delay the ceremony for as long as possible,” Luther suggests.

  Ahren growls under his breath. “How long? Less than a week at most, then the vultures will pounce. The king’s sister will race to our kingdom to claim the throne the moment she hears her brother has died.”

  I slouch in my seat and drink more of the warm wine, helping sate my empty stomach.

  Luther drops his feet from the table and asks the question we’ve all been thinking. “You’re the heir to the throne, Ahren, and to take ownership, you must be married. Who will you take as a bride?”

  Guendolyn pops to mind. Mother will ask a million questions if we suggest her, as will the royal council. She’ll need to know Guendolyn’s family heritage, and Luther can’t marry a non-royal. The big issue will be that Seelie and Unseelie are forbidden to wed, so that’s not going to work.

  Ahren knows this. The bitterness is scribbled over his tight expression. Each of us have fallen for Guendolyn, so how will she react to Ahren marrying someone else?

  “I don’t know the answer,” Ahren answers truthfully. For once, he’s not the older brother in control of every situation, but someone adrift in the chaos surrounding us. To lose someone and be forced to make such immediate decisions is fucked up. Letting another family member take the throne from Ahren will mean we lose our home and most likely will be kicked out of Shadow Court. So really, there is no other solution.

  Ahren must marry a royal.

  Footsteps echo outside the room, and the door suddenly swings opens.

  We all glance at our mother as she steps inside. She pulls the black cloak tight around her neck, the embroidered golden swirls along the lapels glinting under the fireplace’s blaze. It falls to her knees, and a blue dress dances around her ankles with each step she takes. Her crystal green eyes are red and puffy from crying, while bright white hair tumbles over her shoulders in curls. She holds herself tall and regal, even while her heart breaks. The lines around her mouth and eyes deepen, the signs of her aging more apparent today than previously.

  I’m on my feet and reach her side, then take her into my arms. She softens against me and cries gently. Growing up, she’d always been a strong figure, someone who fixed our problems, who never gave up on us three. Now, she feels so small and weak in my embrace. I hold her tighter, needing to be there for her. We all do, just as she did for us when our father treated us like shit.

  She breaks away from me and wipes her eyes. “These ridiculous tears refuse to stop. I left the mages and haven’t been able to cease crying since.”

  Her crooked smile shatters me. She loved King Tibout dearly, and this kind of loss is gruesome.

  “Come, sit down,” I offer. Once she’s comfortable, I pour her a serving of warmed wine. “You’ll always have us.”

  She holds the goblet, running the tip of her finger over the rim, then lifts her head toward Ahren. He joins us at the table. The four of us sit around in silence. The last time we were in this state was when our mother announced she was leaving our real father and we had to leave our home that very night. It happened long ago, yet it feels like just yesterday when we were on the cusp of being homeless.

  Ahren reaches across the table and places a hand on hers. “Everything will be alright. I will make sure of it.”

  She nods, but more tears thread down her cheeks. Luther’s on his feet and retrieves a napkin from the cabinet behind him, then hands it to our mother. She wipes her eyes as he crouches behind her, hugging her, his chin propped on her shoulder.

  “I’ve sent a message by crow,” she finally tells us. “We can’t waste a single moment.” She sips the wine, all the while her eyes never leaving Ahren. Her hands shake.

  He knows as well as we do that if Ahren doesn’t marry, he’ll lose the throne and we’ll be out on our asses. Mother married into this family, so her taking the throne isn’t an option.

  “Who did you send it to?” he asks, stiffening in his seat.

  “Our closest allies. Queen Titania.”

  I groan, as do Ahren and Luther on cue. She runs one of the two kingdoms in the east with her king.

  “She’s on her fourth husband,” I quip.

  “And the previous three all mysteriously vanished,” Luther murmurs, glancing at our mother with raised brows.

  “You believe those rumors?” She shakes her head. “I’m not marrying my son to the Queen, but her daughter. She is said to be a beauty unlike any other in the east. She will make a perfect partner and ensure your claim to the throne.” Her words are directed at Ahren, even if he hasn’t said a word. “The Queen has been eager to merge our two kingdoms for a while now, which means the offer should be accepted before your stepfather’s sister arrives to take the throne. I’ve postponed the funeral and forbid anyone from spreading the news about the king for a few days.”

  Ahren doesn’t speak but pulls back his hand from Mother’s while Luther moves back to his seat. Tightness gathers under Ahren’s eyes. He holds himself composed, and I doubt anything could rattle his outside appearance. Different story on the inside.

  This isn’t an easy choice. Nope, not a choice at all, is it? He has no other option, and it kills me to watch him drown while there’s nothing we can do. To save all of us, he has to carry the burden. And that’s why he says nothing. Arguing won’t change the situation we knew was coming, and any match he’s paired with won’t bring him closer to Guendolyn.

  He wants her, like the rest of us, and his silence is the realization that he will lose her.

  “You will be fine, Ahren, you’ll see,” Mother explains. “I barely knew King Tibout before I married into Shadow Court, and now I love him.” She stands and pats down her cloak, her cheeks blushed, her eyes still spilling with tears. “Please keep this to yourself for now. Only a handful know. I will begin arrangements for the wedding in the meantime.” She lowers her head and no one responds, plunging the room into a stifling silence.

  His face reddens with fury, but if he says no, then we lose our home. And while he’s alive, the second son can’t take his place. I pity him, but I’ll never show him that.

  “We have a few days to the wedding,” she states, her posture strong. Gone is our nurturing mother, replaced by a woman forced to take the lead to protect all of us. “We must be diligent and cautious until the killer is found in case they want you dead too, Ahren.”

  She turns on her heels and heads out of the room.

  “Hell, Ahren,” Luther blurts first. “What the fuck, man? Are you alright with this?”

  Ahren’s gaze narrows and he jolts to his feet, his chair scraping against the stone flooring. “What do you think?” he growls. “I’m fucking pissed, and I sure as hell don’t want to marry someone else.” His voice chokes. “But I don’t have a choice, do I? I won’t let our mother end up homeless.” His pale green stare turns cold, his long white hair windblown, giving him a wild appearance. I swallow the boulder in my throat for him, as I can’t begin to imagine
how I’d feel if I were in his shoes.

  “We knew this would come to pass one day. It’s not a surprise,” he says like he’s trying to convince himself. Moments later, he says, “We don’t tell Guendolyn, understand?”

  “But—”

  “No!” Ahren shuts down Luther. “Not yet, and I’ll be the one to let her know when the time arrives.” He marches out of the room, the door banging shut behind him. Luther clicks his tongue.

  “This is cruel torture for him. You know he’ll lose it and end up doing something stupid in his rage.”

  “Most definitely.” I’m on my way to the door. “I’m going hunting or something. I need to get away from this shit.”

  I can’t stand still, drowning in my thoughts. Ahren is fucked, and I don't know exactly how strong his bond is with Guendolyn, but from what I've seen, the news will break her.

  Chapter 2

  Guendolyn

  I roll the red ruby over the back of my knuckles and flick it over my palm with a thumb, then repeat. Over and over. It’s calming, in a strange way. The stone is cold against my touch, no matter how much I hold it. Then again, this isn't an ordinary rock, now is it?

  It’s the last crystal from the fairy queen's crown and belongs with the fairies, yet Hiss insisted it stay with me. Not to mention, it helps me open up portals with ease. Luther had said that the king had sold all of his mother’s jewels in exchange for this stone from a witch fae who passed through Shadow Court. The king had been promised that the ruby would give him affinity with the fairies, which makes me wonder why he insisted on having it. Pure obsession, or something more?

  Sitting cross-legged on the couch in Deimos' bedroom, I keep looking outside where the winds lash against the window and snow falls fast and heavy. The weather howls, and all I can picture are the tiny hive-style homes hanging from trees in the fairy village swinging wildly in the storm.

  Since arriving in the Wandering Realm, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that nothing stays calm for long. Then there's the whole fairies helping me and calling me Eirian, a word for fairy queen, which confuses me even more.

  I keep rolling the ruby over my knuckles, my thoughts wandering to Ash Court.

  This is why Seelie and Unseelie can never be together. The Unseelie king's mother had said those words to me. She also added that the Unseelie bloodline comes directly from the fairy queen herself, which might explain my connection with them. And everything else she told me confirms the late king of Shadow Court had an affair with someone from the enemy kingdom. And yet, the king never knew he had a child. Why didn’t my mother tell him?

  The Unseelie king’s mother had reveled in that announcement. I hate her for that alone… and the fact she then tried to kill me, of course.

  But I’m no fool. Whoever my mother is, she must be someone important. Why else would there be a war between the courts with me in the middle of it? I just hope she’s still alive.

  For so long, I was a pawn in their games.

  The Unseelie king’s mother had put the curse on me as a baby, and she gloated about it. I grit my teeth, as I barely escaped with my life... with the princes' lives. Something must be broken within me that the king’s mother calls me an abomination. Or is that her demented view on anyone born to Seelie and Unseelie parents? The thought brings with it a reminder of the demented king’s mother from Ash Court. Will she come after me again?

  A groan from the doors sounds.

  I quickly tuck the stone into the pocket of my pants and glance over my shoulder to Luther entering the room.

  My heart pounds, while my stomach bursts with butterflies. I shouldn’t be this excited about seeing a man I've been spending weeks with. Though, things aren't the same anymore. Not since I cured Deimos and Luther touched me while the magic still filled me. That touch had broken the spell that hid my memories from me. Now, my past with Luther is crystal clear in my mind, from his voice in my thoughts back on Earth, to the dirty things he’d say. There were the endless nights we spoke about stupid things, yet he captivated me all the same.

  I know this fae inside and out, and the ache growing in my chest for him has everything to do with what he went through. He suffered on his own with our memories, and I couldn’t do a thing to help him.

  His keen gaze scans the room and rests on me. We're alone, and he kicks the door shut behind him. The gleam in his eyes calls to me. He looks at me differently, like we're long-lost lovers and we've finally found each other. The mischief in the quirk of his smile ignites the blaze in my chest. It’s strange to think that I fell for his charm twice. Once before I even met him. And again while I couldn’t remember much about our past.

  We are meant to be together.

  “I have a surprise for you.” His deep baritone warms and comforts me.

  I'm on my feet before I can make sense of how much influence he has over me.

  "Luther." I rush to him and he collects me into his arms, lifting me off my feet.

  Our mouths clash in an explosive match of emotions.

  Arousal.

  Desperation.

  Unbearable need to make up for lost time.

  His hands grab my ass, and his tongue slides into my mouth, dancing with mine. I lace my hands behind his neck and hold onto him, my legs wrapping around his hips. Our kiss is deep and passionate, the kind that knocks the breath out my lungs and leaves me dripping wet.

  “You were saying?” I breathe the words.

  One corner of his mouth curls upward into a lopsided grin with mischief gathering behind his gaze. Instead of answering, he kisses me and walks me back to the wall, where he pins me in place. The world fades around me; it's just us two at this moment.

  No deaths.

  No confusion.

  No worry.

  Only Luther and I.

  Unable to resist or concentrate on anything, I run my hands through his long, dark hair, drawing him closer. He's like a wind sweeping through my mind, awakening our past from the first time I laid eyes on him. Dark and menacing, and even then my knees wobbled in his presence with a desperation to connect. For so long we spoke in my thoughts, and I should have known then he'd always be in my life.

  I grip onto him, gliding my tongue into his mouth, bucking my hips against his growing erection. Despite everything, if there's one good thing to come out of me discovering where I came from, it's finding three fae whom I adore and who want me just as much. I don't think I could bear to lose any of them.

  They are my lifeline in this crazy realm. And I need more... so much more of each of them.

  His lips drag over my cheek and to my neck, where he nibbles on the flesh before he pulls my earlobe into his mouth. Fingers slide under the fabric of my top, finding skin.

  I arch and moan as his hand slides higher and cups a breast. I tip my head back against the wall and close my eyes as he grinds his cock against my heat.

  This is where I long to be every day. I suck in ragged breaths as he devours me, pinches my hardened nipple.

  I cry out as he tugs on it, and my control is destroyed by his passion. Our lips once more merge. I kiss him with depth and passion, our tongues at war, then his teeth pull at my lower lip, the pain and pleasure a cocktail that leaves me dripping.

  He draws back, our breaths racing, and slowly eases me back down on my feet, like that moment of fire was nothing more than a welcome kiss.

  "What in the world was that?" I gasp, pulling down on my shirt to cover my stomach.

  "You come running at me and I'm going to kiss you until you forget yourself." He slides a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

  "That was so much more than a kiss, and you know it. You're an evil tease."

  He lowers his hand from my hair, his knuckles gently brushing against my erect nipples. I gasp with a renewed flare of desire coiling tighter deep in my gut.

  "Now that is a tease.” He winks sexily at me. “What we did was different. I was preparing you."

  I stiffen and narrow my ga
ze at him. "For what?"

  "Told you I have something for you. And while I have every intention of fucking you, this isn't the right place... or maybe the time."

  He cups my face and kisses me softly for a change. I consider protesting. Instead, I let myself fall for the distraction at a time when we need it most. His tongue licks over my lips, and I lean into his chest and whisper, "If you keep kissing me that way, I'm not responsible for what happens to your cock."

  A burning gleam passes over his eyes, and the twitch of his erection pulses against my stomach.

  "And you smell good enough to eat."

  I draw in a shaky breath, waiting for my libido to stop sending waves of delicious arousal over me. "Damn, you're good."

  He laughs, and I adore everything about him, but that sound he makes is extraordinary. "Remember who you're dealing with, little wolf. I’m the prince of darkness, a lord, a master." That grin brings back those exact words he'd said to me before we came to this realm.

  "You’re just as cocky as when you said that the first time." I lift my chin to him and smile back.

  "It worked, didn't it? You melted over me. I remember when you first laid eyes on me; I saw the instant attraction you felt for me, the hunger in your eyes."

  I half-laugh, refusing to let him know how right he is. "You're mistaking that for utter shock. I mean, at first, I almost mistook you for Dracula." I poke my tongue at him.

  He grasps me by the arm and tugs me against him. "Who is Dracula?"

  I burst out laughing. "It's a fictional character who's all dark and broody like you, but drinks people's blood to survive."

  “Like the Bloodcursed?” He blinks as though trying to make sense of my ramblings.

  "Yes and no. Anyway, I remember you once saying to me that long ago, darkness and light came together and created beauty… a beauty that will destroy this world. You were talking about me. Why didn't you tell me back then I was a fae?"

  "Would you have believed me?"