A tinge of sadness colored Fiona’s smile. “I hope in time you will come to accept your place here, Keely. I would like it if we could be friends.”
She disappeared as quietly as she had appeared.
Chapter Sixteen
The stones loomed before the black wolf as he galloped across the rocky ground. He didn’t hesitate, pouncing into the ring and ignoring the slashes of pain slicing through the thick fur of his coat like razor blades. He lunged for Owein with every intention of ripping out the fairie king’s throat. Three feet from his prey, he slammed into an invisible wall.
The collision staggered him, and he felt himself wavering between beast and man. The wolf in him lunged again, even as the man struggled to form.
“You bastard!” Colin charged. It came out as a garbled growl.
In transition from beast to man, Colin knew Owein could flatten him without breaking a sweat, but he was beyond caring. With Owein’s help, Keely had sent herself into the fairie realm. He would see him dead for it.
When he’d awakened and found himself alone, he’d known immediately where she’d gone. Steeped in physical pleasure earlier tonight, he’d been paying little attention to the various comments she’d made about possible ways to break the curse. In truth, he hadn’t spared a thought for Saraid and Owein, Fiona and the dreams. With Keely O’Brian in his arms, he found it difficult to think at all.
As he’d raced up the trail to the Door, her words had come back to him with perfect clarity, despite the fact that he moved on all fours. If I entered the realm, and could figure out where Fiona is holding Saraid, maybe I could lead her out somehow.
The little fool meant to take on Fiona on her own. She’d be lost to the realm forever.
Both the man and the beast within him raged against the possibility. Keely, with her sparkling eyes, and zest for life, had more courage than was healthy and had no idea the kind of trouble she faced in her quest to break the curse on her own. And damn it, it wasn’t necessary. Did she think he wouldn’t keep his word and help her find a way to end the dreams?
Even if he didn’t love her, he wouldn’t leave her to— The errant thought staggered him. Good God, he loved her! How the hell had he let that happen?
Pain was an iron band around his chest, and the low moan of the wolf rumbled in his throat. He’d been so busy working at denying Owein’s wish he hadn’t noticed her slipping past his defenses to plant herself in his heart. Now she’d taken that heart with her to a place where only danger awaited. A place where he couldn’t follow.
He shuddered as the transformation from beast to human form completed, leaving him staring into the narrowed eyes of Owein.
“You’re no fairie king,” Colin mocked on a gasp, his breathing not yet even, “and less a man, sending an untrained Halfling into the realm to fight your battles.”
Lightning raced like a whirlwind throughout the ring as Owein straightened to his full height. His voice was cold and controlled when he finally spoke. “I could kill you for that, Halfling.”
“Do what you will. You’ve gifted the heart to Fiona’s wrath. You may as well finish off the soul.”
Owein’s eyes widened in surprise, and the shadow of a smile curved his lips.
“Do you think I care you find pleasure in seeing your plans come to fruition?” Colin demanded. “You may have won this battle, Owein, but you’ve lost the war. You told me yourself, when the heart is dead, so too will be the soul. You’ve sent her to her doom!”
“I didn’t send your mate into the realm.” He ignored Colin’s snort of disbelief. “That she did on her own, despite my objections. ’Tis a bold and courageous woman you’ve chosen for your own. One worthy of the wolf. And you mistake my humor, young Quinn. That comes from knowing that joined together, the two of you can stand against any power, human or fairie.”
“Except we aren’t joined together. She is now beyond my reach, thanks to you!”
“Not for long,” Owein said cryptically. “Tell me, when you entered the ring as the wolf, what did you feel?”
“Other than the urge to rip out your throat?” Owein didn’t respond, just continued to wait patiently. “I felt as if a million claws raked at my hide,” Colin finally admitted.
Owein nodded. “You felt the slash of the nettles protecting the people of the realm from the beasts of the human world. Is following your mate worth suffering those slashes again? And before you answer, know what you experienced was just a small example of what you will need to endure to go after her.”
“I’ll be of little use to her, and to your Saraid, if I’m killed in the process.”
Owein smiled. “The nettles don’t have the power to kill, but the pain won’t be pleasant.”
“Keely is worth any pain.”
“Then waste no time in transforming, for as the beast you have access to the realm.”
“How? I haven’t the gift of transporting,” Colin pointed out.
“The beasts of this world have always had access to the realm. To enter, they need merely linger within the stones. Long ago, the People tired of having the occasional fox or wolf appear in their midst and so set the nettles’ enchantment to keep them out.”
“If I’ve always had access, why haven’t you mentioned it before? Why didn’t you send me in to find your wife, instead of allowing Keely to be dragged into all of this?”
“To what end? You have fought me at every turn, young Quinn. Would you really have subjected yourself to untold agony to do my bidding with no questions asked? Standing with your mate at your side has always been the easiest and simplest solution, but since you’ve come late to the realization, enduring the slash of the nettles is the only option left to you.”
“I’ve agreed to go,” Colin snapped. “If you’re finished pointing out my stubbornness, kindly tell me what I must do.”
Owein laughed as Colin closed his eyes.
“Focus on the throne room.” Colin heard Owein’s rushed instructions through the lashing pain from a thousand knives as the beast began to take form. “Waste no time in re-attaining your human form, for the People will waste no time in trying to kill the wolf. Your Halfling blood will protect you, but wounded, you will be no help to Keely and Saraid. Inform King Cael of the facts of Fiona’s perfidy. Though he and I are rivals, I know him to be an honorable fairie and ruler. If Cael can’t or won’t step in to aid you, find Keely. Stand at her side and declare her your destiny. Together you need only deny the validity of the curse, and the deed will be done.”
****
Audible gasps competed with feminine screams. As he pushed his mind to complete the transformation to man, Colin had the impression of a cavernous room, filled with a scattering crowd. He struggled to keep his feet beneath him even as the sound of steel sliding from a scabbard had him doubling his efforts at retaining his human form.
“I come on King Owein the Fine’s behalf,” he struggled to say, and hoped the words made sense. They sounded like gibberish to his own ears. “I seek an audience with King Cael the Strong.”
Through the blur of transformation, Colin saw the dagger arching toward his throat. Sluggish though he was, he managed to spin away with only a moment to spare. The blade passed within inches of his jugular.
“Hold, Brogan!” A deep voice boomed above the din of panicked fairies. “’Tis a Halfling you think to shave with your blade. One with the ability to walk as a beast.”
The owner of the blade aborted his second swing, lowering his raised arm to slip the foot long, lethal looking knife into a jeweled sheath at his waist. Piercing, emerald green eyes roamed Colin’s transformed body in a thorough survey.
“So it would seem,” the fairie called Brogan replied. “’Tis doubtful my blade would even scratch this one. He survived the nettles handily enough.”
At six two, it wasn’t often Colin had to look up to meet a man’s eyes. He had to look up a good four inches now. The knife-wielding Brogan was a mountain of a man. The epaulettes riding
the shoulders of his stark-white tunic proclaimed an official rank of some sort, and though his shoulder-length auburn hair wouldn’t meet regulation in any human military organization, his bearing would. If Colin had to guess, the brawny Brogan was a fairie version of general. He appeared well suited to the role.
His vision finally clear, Colin ignored the mocking humor in Brogan’s eyes, searching the large hall for the owner of the voice capable of stopping such a fairie with but a word. His gaze came unerringly to the fairie who could be no other than King Cael.
As tall as Brogan, the fairie king was resplendent in the garb of fairie royalty. His dress was similar to Owein’s. Black, fitted slacks covered his long legs, and the tunic molded to his powerful chest shimmered in the soft glow of a dozen chandeliers. Instead of the blue Owein preferred, Cael’s tunic was of a deep, rich plum. A stark white cape rode one shoulder to flow down his back. Pale blue eyes appeared almost colorless in his tanned face. His white blond hair was as long as Brogan’s.
Sprawled on a magnificent throne of precious silver, Cael beckoned to Colin to come before him. Colin crossed the room, purpose in his step. The many fairies of King Cael’s court gave him a wide berth, stepping clear of the Halfling who had caused such a stir by arriving in their midst in the form of a wolf. Like the stunning riches of silver, gold, and precious gems decorating every surface of the raft’s great hall, including the walls, Colin barely noticed their wary stares. Aware of Brogan dogging his steps, he searched the crowd for a head of honey-blonde hair, but there was no sign of Keely.
“So,” Cael said when Colin stood before him and bowed his head in a respectful greeting. “You’ve come on King Owein’s behalf. I find it odd he sends a Halfling to seek my audience, instead of coming on his own. Why is that, I wonder?”
“He knows of my personal interest in the matter at hand, but no doubt he would have come himself, and long before now, if he had not been blocked from entering your raft.”
“What lie is this?” Cael challenged, clearly offended. “I have placed no bacainn upon the raft, against Owein or any other.”
“I don’t lie, King Cael, nor do I accuse you. The bacainn is Princess Fiona’s doing, in place nearly three hundred human years now.”
Colin noted the stiffening of Brogan’s body beside him, even as Cael demanded of the fairie general, “Is this true, Brogan? As Guardian of the Realm it is your duty to inform me of such matters.”
“As I would have if I had been informed of such,” Brogan bristled. “Princess Fiona said naught of it to me. If your daughter placed a bacainn, as the shape-shifting Halfling claims, she did so through stealthy means. No word of its existence has reached my ears or that of the Guard.”
Cael studied his captain of the guard, his eyes calculating. “She’s said naught of anything to you for some time now. How long has it been?”
Brogan said nothing and the scowl he sent Cael’s way surprised Colin, especially when Cael merely sighed in response and turned his steady gaze on Colin.
“What personal matter has brought you here, Halfling? The comings and goings of the people of the realm rarely affect the human world in these times.”
“As I said, I come on King Owein’s behalf, as well as my own. The bacainn I speak of keeps Owein from his human mate.”
Cael’s eyes widened in surprise. “So, the rumors are true,” he said on a booming laugh. “Owein has bound himself to a human. I shall lift a glass to his misfortune. But tell me, Halfling. What has any of this to do with me? If Owein’s human choice spurns his attentions, it is no more than he deserves for binding himself to one not of his own kind. It is no concern of mine.”
“His mate does not spurn his attentions, she is denied them. Princess Fiona has held Saraid Quinn captive here in your raft these many human years. King Owein seeks your aid in seeing to her release.”
“Quinn?” Cael repeated the name with deceptive calm, considering the towering rage evident in his pale eyes.
“Aye, King Cael. It is my understanding you were once acquainted with Saraid’s father, Fitzgerald Quinn.”
Furious color flushed Cael’s face. “Brogan,” he said. “Find Princess Fiona and bring her to me. It appears your theory was wrong. Left to her own devices, my daughter has expanded her obsession with gaining her vengeance on that bounder.”
Without a word, Brogan left the room. Cael watched him go, then pinned Colin with a considering frown.
“You said this matter was of personal interest to you, Halfling. Why?”
“My name is Colin Quinn.” He held steady under the king’s narrowing gaze. “I am a descendant of Owein and Saraid, and through Saraid, Fitzgerald. As I am, my mate is a Halfling, descended from Owein and Saraid as well. Without access to your raft, and you, Owein has enlisted our help in breaking the curse binding his mate.”
“A Halfling union, you say? With your combined blood, you and your mate could have easily lifted the bacainn and called Saraid home without ever having left the human world. Why take the chance of entering my raft as the beast?” Cael leaned forward menacingly, his fingers gripping the arms of his silver throne. “If you think to claim vengeance for this ancestor you claim my daughter has so foolishly wronged, be warned, Halfling. Though your fairie blood prevents me from killing you, there are actions I can take that will make the nettles of the ring feel like a mother’s kiss.”
“I seek no vengeance,” Colin assured him.
“Then what do you here?”
“I seek my mate.”
“Your mate? You’re story unravels even now. I thought it was Owein’s woman my daughter is supposed to have held.”
“Everything I have told you is true, King Cael. Owein’s Saraid abides somewhere in your raft, and I’ve come to see her freed. But I also come in search of my own mate. She is a strong Halfling, and Saraid’s plight weighs heavily on her heart. For a human decade, Saraid’s pleas for release have drawn my mate to the entrance of your raft in dreams. In my own stubbornness, I refused to join my destiny with hers, and she felt she had no other option to see the dreams ended than to come on her own. I saw her enter your raft with my own eyes this very night, and fear she now shares Saraid’s fate. I have come to collect her.”
“Another one who refuses to accept his destiny, only to watch his woman stumble about on her own and find herself in trouble.”
Before Colin could ask him what he’d meant by that cryptic remark, a murmur of interest rippled through the great hall.
“Why have I been summoned like a common servant?” a feminine voice demanded.
Chapter Seventeen
“No one could ever mistake you for a common servant, Princess Fiona,” Cael drawled languidly.
Colin turned to find Brogan leading a stunning fairie in a flowing white gown toward Cael’s throne. He stared, struggling to equate the delicately beautiful creature at Brogan’s side with the manipulative fairy who had brought so much harm to so many lives.
Her regal gait carried her toward the throne, appearing to float ethereally in the midst of her subjects, until her scanning gaze fell upon Colin. Her eyes widened and she faltered suddenly, stumbling to a halt. With his hand clamped around her upper arm, Brogan continued on, dragging her in his wake as she attempted to dig in her heels.
Cael followed their progress with interest, clucking his tongue when they stood before him at last. Fiona jerked her arm from Brogan’s gripping fingers to send Cael’s Guardian of the Realm a fulminating scowl.
“You look pale, daughter,” Cael noted casually.
She lifted her chin and met the king’s gaze. “I don’t appreciate being hauled about by your watchman, father.”
“Ah. You dislike Brogan’s hands upon your delicate skin? But that was not always the case, was it?”
Fiona gasped, her gaze flying to Brogan at her side. Brogan remained stoically silent.
“I don’t know what he told you,” Fiona began.
Cael silenced her with a flick of his han
d. “I didn’t call you here to discuss your choice of bedmates. Not recent ones, anyway.” His gaze moved to Colin. “You haven’t greeted our guest. From your reaction a moment ago, I can only assume you know him.”
“Princess Fiona,” Colin greeted her with a stiff bow of his head.
“I know of him,” she admitted loftily, without recognizing his greeting. “He’s a Halfling, and a Quinn.” The hissed name sounded like a curse on her lips.
The hush in Cael’s great hall was complete as the fairies of his court followed the unprecedented conversation between their king, his daughter, and a shapeshifting Halfling, with undisguised interest.
“He’s both of those,” Cael agreed, “and entertaining as well. While we’ve awaited your arrival, he’s been amusing us all with a tale of lost mates and revenge.”
Fiona flicked Colin a dismissive glance. “He’s a human and not to be trusted.”
“I have spoken the truth, princess,” Colin interjected.
Fiona turned on him. “Men know nothing of the truth. Deceit and greed is all you know.”
“If I know of deceit and greed, princess, I learned it at your hand. I grew to a man watching my mother suffer a broken heart thanks to your manipulation of the only man she ever loved. And I’ve seen the despair your actions have caused others.”
“Michael Sterling chose his family’s money over your mother’s love and you,” she insisted. “He made his choice.”
“Aye,” Colin agreed, startled at hearing his own sentiment concerning his father’s actions slipping so cruelly from her lips. He’d battled the bitterness of his father’s abandonment his entire life, but Keely was right. Michael Sterling was as much a victim of Fiona’s twisted revenge as the rest of them. “It’s what I’ve always believed as well, but then, the choice wasn’t really his, was it? Your enchantment saw to that. And what of Owein and Saraid? And their babes? Did they have a choice?”
Fiona’s mouth flattened into a thin line, her body stiffening like a poker. She remained silent.
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