Stolen By The Fae King (Mated To The Fae King Book 1)

by Bailey Dark

She relaxes against me, letting my tongue slip into her mouth teasingly. She groans again, and I can feel the stiffness of her nipples through the thin silk of her gown. My hands rove over her back as I hold her.

  Suddenly, she pulls away, her eyes wide with shock. She straightens and slaps a hand over her swollen lips, staring at me. “Verity,” I say, reaching for her again.

  She blinks at the sound of her name and then drops her hand from her lips. She narrows her eyes at me as the shock fades. And then she slaps me, a stinging blow to my cheek. I lift a hand to cup the smarting cheek as her eyes widen at the realization of what she’s done. I choke down a laugh at her expression and lift a hand.

  “Verity,” I say, suppressing a smile.

  But she spins on her heel and runs from the room. The door slams shut behind her, but I know Navi is on the other side. I know she likely heard everything and knows what happened between me and Verity. I drop my head back onto my pillow, grinning.

  I don’t know what came over me. Verity is a beautiful woman to be sure, but she still wants to return home. She doesn’t want to be here with me. I think back to her ruined dress and the fact that she stayed by my side all this time. My heart pounds loudly as I think of it. I haven’t felt interested in anyone in many years, decades maybe.

  I would occasionally delight in the company of women, but it meant nothing. And I always left them feeling nothing. But with Verity, my heart is beating wildly, and my blood is rushing like fire through my veins. She’s stubborn and clever. Funny and sweet. And beautiful of course. She’s not afraid to slap a king who’s gotten out of hand either.

  My grin widens. That’s exactly what I need. A woman who isn’t afraid.

  Chapter 10

  Verity

  I can’t forget the sensation of Altair’s lips against mine. Soft yet commanding. A shiver trails down my spine at the memory. Even now, a day later, I haven’t been able to keep my mind off of it. Or deny that I desperately want another.

  I haven’t visited him since I left him last night. It’s daylight now, so he won’t be himself. I feel a sympathetic pain in my chest at the thought of the curse. To be trapped between two bodies, two selves, must be torture for him. I lift my eyes from the ground in surprise. I haven’t doubted once what the Bloodbane witches told me. The longer I’m here, the more I come to believe that this is all real. It’s no game or fantasy devised by a kidnapper.

  Pursing my lips, I rise from the chair in my room and pace. If it is real, and I’m not trapped in my own hallucinations, then Altair truly does need my help. The witches told me I was Bloodbane. I don’t know what that means, but the word itself sends my blood stirring. My brows furrow, confusion mingling with fear. Is my mother truly my mother? Or my father? Is my life a lie? I clench my hands into fists at my side, so tight that my knuckles are white. Who am I?

  A part of me wishes Acubens—Altair—didn’t rescue me from Nakarr and Tegmine, if only so I could meet this Maaz and learn my history from her. I chew my lip, trying to imagine what Maaz is like. She cursed Altair long ago, almost a thousand years. And yet, somehow, she’s still alive. I imagine she’s an old hag now, bent over with a hump on her back and long, scraggly gray hair.

  Remarkably similar to cartoon witches in every children’s movie.

  Suddenly, a knock sounds at my door. I recognize the sharp, business-like raps of Navi. I open the door wide for her to enter. She looks me over coldly, hands clasped behind her back. I meet her gaze evenly. I get the sense Navi doesn’t like me much.

  “Yes, Navi?” I ask, looking at her expectantly.

  “What did the Bloodbane witches want with you?” She asks.

  I shrug. “They wanted to bring me to Maaz, I don’t know why.”

  “What else did they tell you?” Her voice is laced with suspicion.

  “Why do you want to know? I haven’t done anything,” I say, arching a brow.

  “The Bloodbane witches came to our front door, killed two of my men, and snatched you. I want to know what they wanted with you,” Navi snaps. Her eyes flash furiously, and I feel a tendril of fear in my gut. “It is my duty to protect Altair. He almost died for you. Surely you wouldn’t be so callous as to deny me of information that could protect him from his enemies.”

  I drop into an arm chair and stare at the stone floor. “Your duty,” I muse. “Are you in love with him, Navi?”

  “How dare you.” Her voice is cold.

  I know instantly that I’ve crossed a line. And I don’t know what possessed me to ask about her feelings for Altair in the first place. But every time she says his name, I feel my heart clench painfully. I purse my lips, considering her words and her anger. She has every right to her fury.

  “The witches told me I was one of them. They said Altair needed me to break the curse but that a Bloodbane would never betray her Sisters,” I say. “That’s all that they told me.”

  Her eyes narrow at me. “And will you betray them? Or will you become the Bloodbane you are?” She spits.

  I round on her, anger flaring within me. “I’m not sure if your disgust for me stems from the fact that I’m a Bloodbane witch or if it’s because you can’t help Altair the way I can, but you don’t know me, Navi,” I murmur. “I have no allegiance to the Bloodbane witches, just as I have no allegiance to you. I’ll do what I want.”

  Wordlessly, Navi spins on her heel and stalks from the room. She moves lithely, like a predator. I know if she wanted to, she could cut me in two with one swipe of her blade. I sit back, fuming. I don’t know why I said what I did, or why I asked her about her feelings for Altair. It truly is none of my business. But then why did I feel a spark of jealousy in my heart when she spoke of her duty to him? And why do I hate it when his name falls from her lips?

  I dig my fingernails into the armrests and bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. I have no intention of returning to the Bloodbane witches. Blood doesn’t make you family. And I’m not eager to meet the woman who cursed a man for a thousand years because he rejected her. Altair has let me live in a guest in his house, even though it always felt like a prison. I understand now why he never let me leave. He couldn’t risk losing me if I could potentially save him.

  If I could, I would break the curse. But I was raised in the mortal world. A world without magic or fairytale creatures like the Fae. I don’t know anything about curses or spells. I lick my lips. I’ll simply have to educate myself.

  I rise and slip out of my room into the hall. Altair has two Fae soldiers stationed outside my room at all hours of the day. One breaks away from his post to follow me down the hall at a distance. I roll my eyes. I doubt the Bloodbane could get to me within the palace. Or perhaps Altair still suspects I’ll run away. I press my lips into a thin line at the thought.

  The palace is a sprawling complex of wings and halls and massive staircases. I didn’t notice its beauty before when I was too angry and frustrated to take any notice of my surroundings beyond the nearest exits. The walls and floors are a light stone, the floors carpeted in red. Vases of fresh flowers line the halls, placed beside large windows that overlook the palace gardens and exterior buildings.

  There’s so much to this place that I haven’t explored yet. I hadn’t even realized the castle grounds were so large. But as I gaze out the windows, I realize I was only in a single piece of its gardens. I turn away from the windows towards a massive doorway. The library.

  As I enter, my breath slips away from me in surprise. The library is two stories tall, filled with rows and rows of dark oak bookcases. Shelves line the walls from the floor to the ceiling, wooden ladders attached to each shelf so readers can reach the tomes on the highest shelves. Comfortable chairs dot the room, tucked away in corners and beside the few fireplaces I can spot along the walls. On the far wall, floor to ceiling windows let in masses of natural light. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. It would put any library in the world to shame, I think as envy tugs at my heart. It’s been my dream since I
was young to have a library like this.

  Elated, I rush inside, smiling giddily. The soldier who trailed me here positions himself beside the entrance. I hurry to a nearby shelf and run my fingers over the leather-bound spines. They’re warm to the touch, as if they’ve just been just put away.

  “Can I help you?” A hoarse voice croaks behind me.

  I gasp, a little startled, and whirl around towards the voice. An old woman stands before me, not a woman—a Fae woman. She eyes me, an amused glint in her eyes. “Are you the librarian?” I ask, taking in the deep wrinkles around her eyes and mouth.

  “I am.” She dips her chin. “You must be the Bloodbane.”

  I clench my jaw. “I’m a librarian as well.”

  “Are you?” She chuckles. “Then I don’t suppose you’ll need any help from an old Fae like me.”

  “Actually,” I blurt, reaching a hand towards her. “I’m looking for anything you may have about curses or Bloodbane witches. I wouldn’t know where to start in a library this size.”

  She arches a brow, lips pulled into a frown. “We don’t keep tomes on Bloodbane magic here.”

  “Anything you have could be helpful to me,” I say.

  “Follow me,” she says after a moment of silence.

  She strides away, moving surprisingly fast for someone of her age. All the Fae I’ve seen in the palace have had youthful features, none appeared more than forty-years-old. Altair looks to be in his late twenties, and I know he’s at least a thousand years old. This Fae woman must be ancient. She pulls me from my thoughts when she stops in front of a bookshelf tucked in the far corner of the library.

  She taps on a book’s spine and turns to me. “Start here. You may find what you need in this shelf.”

  “Thank you.” I smile gratefully and start reading the titles of the books as she leaves.

  “Just be careful,” she calls. Her gray eyes gleam. “The oath might call too strongly.”

  I furrow my brows. “What do you mean?”

  But there’s no answer, and the woman is nowhere to be seen. I narrow my eyes towards where I last saw her, a sense of apprehension twisting inside me. It’s probably nothing. The Fae are light-footed and graceful, like cats. I’m sure she simply slipped away before I could notice.

  My spine tingles as I turn back to the tomes. A History of the Fae, Third and Fourth Dynasties. Greater Religions of Alnembra. Curses and Spellwork, a Manual. I carry a load of thick books back towards the main area, where it's lighter. I pull the first book off the stack and open it on a reading table as I tuck myself into a padded chair.

  Granuil Thoran of House Thoran of the First Dynasty became the first Fae to dabble in Bloodbane magic in the year 1023. Granuil pioneered modern Fae medicine through the invention of poultices and potions that aided in the healing process. A record of these potions is listed in the Index AB. Unfortunately, Granuil died in the first Civil War between the First and Second Dynasties before passing on his more detailed and complex work.

  Eliza Thoran of House Thoran of the Second Dynasty continued his research and became known for her complex spells. Eliza spent much of her work studying the practice of reanimation, of which she was never successful. Eliza’s failures in reanimation became helpful contributions to curse-breaking and protective spells. A list of these spells is listed in Index AC.

  AC… AC… Hurriedly, I flip towards the back of the ancient book and scan over the different indexes. Finding it, I study the list intently, hoping that the names of the spells won’t be too complex for me to guess their meaning. Finally, my finger rests over a single spell, one that sounds promising; oath-breaker.

  I follow the footnote to another page, where more information on oath-breaker is written. I read, taking a few mental notes. Excitement and hope well within me as I read the instructions. This, I can at least try. Somehow, someway, I have Bloodbane magic in my veins. Perhaps I can use it to cast a spell to save Altair.

  I bookmark the page and tuck it beneath my arm, heading to the soldier at the door. “I need chalk,” I say.

  His eyes drop to the book in my arms and then rise to meet my eyes. “We don’t practice magic around here.”

  I purse my lips. “You might not. I’m trying to save your King.”

  The soldier stares me down before finally relenting. “I’ll bring you chalk. But don’t do that here.”

  “I won’t. Bring it my room, please,” I say as I sweep past him into the hall.

  I practically run up the stairs and down the long halls, clutching the book tightly to my chest. In my room, I toss the book onto my bed and push the armchairs out of the way. Grunting, I move them back against the wall. Then, I roll up the ornate carpet on my floor and drag it beside the arm chairs. I need room, an open space.

  As I’m laying the book out before me and flipping to the correct page, the door opens. The soldier enters and tosses me a stick of chalk. I catch it easily. Before I can thank him, he’s shut the door. I wrinkle my nose at his abrupt departure. The Fae are magical creatures, and yet they abhor spells. If I visit Altair tonight, I’ll ask him about it. I almost laugh at myself then. There is no ‘maybe’. I want to see him.

  Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I start etching the spell on the floor with the chalk. I draw a large circle, uneven, but still a circle. In it, I copy the strange markings in the book; slashes of chalk that look almost like Viking runes. By the time I’m finished mapping it out, my trousers are dusted in white powder. I rise, surveying my handiwork.

  It isn’t a spell yet though. I move to the fire and carefully extract a bit of burning wood from it with the stoker. I hold it gingerly, the heat of the wood singing my fingers. With a sigh of relief, I drop the burning wood into my circle of chalk. Instantly, the chalk ignites into my flames. Sparks course through it like wildfire. It burns too hot too quickly and I lurch backwards, away from the smoke curling away from the spell.

  As the sparks die out and all that’s left is blackened ash, my blood thrums powerfully. I feel it rushing through me, every molecule, every bit of oxygen being carried by my cells. It’s the same sensation I felt when the Bloodbane witches touched me, but a thousand times more powerful. My head swims and I stumble backwards into the arm chairs.

  I lean heavily against them, breathing raggedly. What is happening? I feel the blood drain from my face as my body breaks into a cold sweat. My hands tremble uncontrollably. I clench my eyes shut and lower myself to the floor, struggling to catch my breath.

  Slowly, gradually, the pain and nausea ease and the strength of my blood fades. I open my eyes. The ash covered chalk has faded to gray, cool now. Out the window, the sun is setting. I clutch at my head. How long was I lost? When I first started the spell, it was barely the afternoon. I’ve missed hours of the day. Fear coils in my heart, sending a wave of ice through my body. I don’t know what’s happening to me. But it scares me that I may not be who I thought I was.

  I haul myself to my feet, taking a moment to make sure I’m steady. I don’t want this spell to remain here. I don’t want to look at it anymore. There’s a small broom besides the fire, used to clean up any ashes that may have drifted away from the fireplace. I grab it and brush away the ash and chalk. I sweep the remnants of the spell into the fire, letting it burn away the evidence.

  I wonder if I reacted that way because I was successful. I wonder if Altair is saved. My energy is slowly returning, and with it my curiosity. I return my room to normal before running out the door towards his room.

  My heart is pounding loudly as I approach his door. The spell should have had immediate effects, but maybe he was too injured to come find me when it worked. Navi eyes me from her post at his door but I ignore her. I throw the door open and run breathlessly into the room. My heart soars when I see Altair. He’s still lying in his bed, in the same position he lay in the night before. But his eyes are closed, and his lips softly parted. He’s asleep. And he’s Fae.

  I bite my lip, trying unsuccessfully to forc
e back a victorious grin. A soft breeze rustles the curtains at his balcony, and moonlight streaks into the room. Moonlight. My smile fades. It’s night now. The curse is only doing what it always has done; freeing him when the sun sets. The spell failed.

  Quietly, so as not to wake him, I curl into the chair at his bedside. I rest my head on my knees, rolling it back and forth so my knees almost massage my temples. I don’t want to try another spell. Not after the effects the last had on me. It was painful and sickly and uncomfortable. And I didn’t like trying to be someone I’m not. I’m not a Bloodbane witch, even if my blood does sing in response to magic. I don’t want to be one.

  I sigh softly, exhaling until my lungs are screaming for more air. If this were a story, the answer would be much simpler. Like a kiss for a frog to turn him into a prince. I lift my head and stare at him. Altair is handsome in the same way nightshade is beautiful. Tempting, but dangerous. I know he could take me anytime he wanted, force himself on me. But he hasn’t yet. Except for the kiss last night, which hardly counts because I wanted it. I wanted it badly.

  I press my lips together, thinking. Clearly, I’m out of my depth. I’m a librarian, not a curse-breaker. My best course of action would be to do more research. It was foolish of me to throw myself into a spell that I knew next to nothing about. I’m lucky nothing terrible happened.

  I unravel myself and stand over him. I’ll return to the library then, perhaps I’ll find the old Fae woman and she can help me. Altair stirs in his sleep and takes a deep breath before settling. My eyes linger on his lips. It couldn’t hurt to try the old-fashioned way to break curses. I’m out of ideas right now, anyway.

  My heart is in my throat as I lean over him. I breathe him in; he smells like pine and fresh rain. Slowly, I lower my lips to his. Heat flushes through me as our lips meet. I hold my lips against his, they’re soft and full. I curl my fingers into the mattress so I don’t run them over his chest. If he would only wake up, I know I would let him take things further than a simple kiss.