I glanced at the closed door. Sirius hadn’t told Oberon any of this. Not Talen’s words on how to save Faerie, nothing of the Nightshade or freeing the unseelie. He was a Royal Guardian, the crown’s stalwart servant, and he was keeping secrets from Oberon. His silence, should it be revealed, would get him executed alongside Arran.
Sirius lifted his hand. The cloak fell back, revealing the smooth beauty of his tek-arm. My finest work. He despised it. Cold metal fingers touched my bare shoulder.
There was more in his eyes than stubborn denials, more emotion than I’d seen from him in all the years I’d known him. More than these last few weeks in my company could account for. Why did any of this matter to him?
“And that is why I must do this.” I closed my hand around his and lowered it back to his side. “I am nothing in Oberon’s shadow, but in death, I can show all of Faerie the truth. I will die for one worthless saru, but my death will change everything.” It was a lie, but here, in Faerie, the fae thought themselves immune to lies. They forgot my greatest strength. I had no wish to die, but I would save Arran, and in a palace made of mirrors, I had to tread carefully.
The chamber door swung open, and Oberon strode in, a storm of royal blues and golden threads, his hair night-black and tightly braided. His rowan crown snared my attention. It suited him. He wore it well. Eledan had fashioned himself one of oak that had looked just as good, albeit a lie.
Sirius shut down, hiding the emotion away.
“My king.” I dropped to a knee.
The guardian failed to kneel. Realizing his mistake a second too late, he dropped, bowing his head low, but in his haste, he had failed to cover his arm. His tek-hand gleamed, fingers spread. In this, the seat of power, human tek on display was an affront to all things Faerie. Too late, Sirius curled his hand closed and hid it behind his back.
“Sirius, at ease,” the king ordered, his voice ringing with a dangerous note.
The guardian straightened and stepped back to the edge of the room, blending in with the shadows.
“Do not think to petition for the life of the gladiator,” Oberon told me. “My decision is final. Preparations are underway. I will not be persuaded otherwise in this.”
I stood, carefully reworking my words in my head, and regarded my king in the same cool, studious manner in which he regarded me.
He checked the door, now closed, and narrowed his eyes at me once more. He made his assessment and looked around him, reading the small, informal room with its fine furniture and flowing drapes as though it were the first time he’d seen it. Perhaps it was. There were dozens of rooms like this one and all looked the same. Satisfied, he unbuckled his cloak and tossed it over a daybed, then loosened his gold-inlaid waistcoat. “My Wraithmaker,” he murmured, thoughts wandering.
With the waistcoat hanging open and loose, he rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, revealing warfae markings that snaked up his forearms. He discarded his lithe, courtly softness along with the pretty attire. Beneath, was the general, a fae of power and prowess, a king-in-waiting. This was how I’d always known him. I’d been alarmed when I’d first seen Eledan, his brother, outside of Faerie and how he had been built for combat. Oberon was the same, but he deliberately hid his warrior physique beneath kingly robes at court.
His wooden demeanor melted away, revealing the fluid, relaxed sidhe beneath. I wondered if any at court saw this side of him, the truth of him. At least one truth. He likely had many.
“I often thought of you,” he said.
He had?
“I hadn’t realized…” He trailed off as he came to the window, entranced by the inky darkness pushing out daylight. “It is a dangerous thing to wish for the dark. It answers.”
Sirius was behind me, watching this exchange. The guardian had always been good at making himself almost invisible during these moments between Oberon and me.
“I killed those fae on Calicto,” I said. “I programmed the drones to attack. It was a slaughter. They didn’t stand a chance.”
“Oh, I know.” Oberon turned his back to the window and smiled a devastating smile. I’d seen Eledan wear the same seductive smile a thousand times before. They were more alike than I’d realized. “Sjora was looking for a fight and a way to undermine me,” he said. “You gave her exactly what she wanted and eliminated her treasonous followers.”
So, the massacre was… acceptable? I hadn’t expected that smile or this reaction. I might be the Wraithmaker, but I’d always followed Oberon’s orders to kill. The Game of Lies had been different. I’d chosen to kill his people. “I should be the one to pay.”
“Yes. I am fully aware it is you who should be executed.” He melted into a high-backed chair and drummed his fingers on the arm, his face pensive. “The gladiator’s death is a small price to pay to keep you alive.”
“Killing Arran is a mistake.”
Oberon breathed in and tilted his head, studying me once more. “I have missed your obstinacy. No other dares to defy me openly. Behind my back, they twitter. I’d rather they openly challenge me. The whispers always reach me…” Again, his attention wandered toward the window.
“And that’s a problem, my king.”
“Whatever you are trying to do, do not waste your breath. I will not allow you to die in his place. Your life is worth too much.”
I didn’t need to look to know Sirius was smiling at the king echoing his sentiments. “All of Faerie knows I killed the queen.”
Oberon’s sharp gaze cut to Sirius. I couldn’t see what passed between them, but I guessed Sirius hadn’t known the truth, not for certain. That had just changed. If Sirius made himself too much of a liability, he would need those secrets he was holding on to so tightly.
“They want justice,” I added.
“Justice?” the king drawled. “Faerie is dying. There is no time for justice.”
“And what are you doing about it, as their king?”
“More than you can comprehend.”
I’d come here to push back. Now was as good a time as any to start. “Sjora wanted to see Eledan on the throne. I doubt she was alone in that desire. Your rule, my king, is precarious.”
At the mention of his brother, Oberon’s expression locked. His fingers stopped drumming, and the king fell still. “My brother is as good as dead.” He pushed from the chair and crossed the distance between us in a few short, sharp strides. “You performed perfectly.” His penetrating blue-eyed gaze roamed over me from head to toe, softening as it did, becoming keener. “Strip,” he ordered.
I blinked and unbuttoned the gown his saru had dressed me in. It was a plain thing, functional with minimal decoration. And now it was coming off. This wasn’t unusual, neither would be what came next, but it had been years, and where I’d once been delighted to have my king’s attention on me, the anxious flutter in my chest suggested I no longer felt the same.
I eased the sleeves off my shoulders, pulling my arms out, and pushed the gown down until it pooled at my feet. I toed it aside, crossed my arms over my body, grabbed the vest, and lifted it over my head. The undergarments were next. I reached behind my back and worked at the fastenings, like all of this was perfectly acceptable. Only it wasn’t. Sometime since fleeing Faerie to hunt down Eledan, while living a normal life on Calicto and in all the time I’d spent with Kellee and Talen, I’d changed. Calicto had changed me. Halow had changed me. I didn’t want this, not anymore. But now was not the time to take a stand. We survive today to fight tomorrow. Hadn’t Kellee said that?
Oberon folded an arm across his front and propped his elbow on his loose fist, tapping a finger against the side of his head in thought. There was no heat in his lingering gaze, just raw concentration.
I discarded the chest wrap and pushed my panties down. When I straightened, Faerie’s light air touched my deeply marked skin.
Oberon took a few steps one way, then the other, studying the markings wrapped around my thighs, torso, and arms, and then he circled me, examining every
inch. My saru heart rattled in its tiny cage.
Oberon’s hands clutched my waist, the king at my back. I slammed my teeth together and stared at the pattern of vine-like art painting the walls. His hands were smooth, like the hands of all immortals who healed their scars. His touch was soft and warm. They’d been soft and warm when he’d marked me too. I tried to block out the sensation, tried to block out everything. This hadn’t bothered me before. Why was this time different?
His fingers kneaded and swirled over the marks he had made in my flesh, pushing in, up my spine and over my shoulders. Part of me hated this intrusion, but an old part of me wanted it too. Faerie’s king was touching my flesh. Hands that had built armies, killed millions, commanded Faerie’s legions—roamed my body. I tried and failed to steady my breathing. If he saw my shivering, if he heard my shortening breaths, he’d punish me. This was nothing to him, just a clinical examination, but his hands reminded me of the last time a fae had touched me, the last time fingers had swept along my marks, his body beneath mine, hands stroking, mouth bringing me to life.
Oberon came around to face me, and brief confusion gathered lines on his brow.
My skin had risen in goosebumps, and there was no hiding my hard nipples. Oberon saw it all.
Heat warmed my face and chest. The heat of shame. I wanted to snatch up my clothes and cover myself or maybe fall to my knees and beg his forgiveness. No saru was to look upon a sidhe without permission. And to desire one? To desire the king? It didn’t matter that it wasn’t him I wanted, it was Talen. I ached to have Talen back, to have him here with me so I wasn’t alone.
Oberon turned away, saying, “You have earned more markings.”
More markings. Once, I would have wept with joy. Not anymore.
“You spent time with Lord Devere?” the king asked, heading to the window.
I swallowed to moisten my parched throat. “I did.”
“What happened to him?”
I considered lying, but Oberon already knew part of the truth, if not all of it. “We fucked. I killed him.”
The king’s stride faltered. He turned, arched an eyebrow, and said, “He was not the only fae to touch you?”
How much had Sirius told him? How much did he already know about Kellee and Talen? A lie would undermine the king’s faith in me. “No.”
“Your pilot.” Oberon stopped at the window and gazed out at Faerie. “Tell me about him.”
“I needed him to navigate the ship.” Technically true. I filled my head with thoughts of the unnamed pilot I’d shot between the eyes and felt the lust ease as sadness crept in.
“And the vakaru?” Oberon asked, keeping his back to me. “Tell me of him.”
I had known this day would come since Talen and Kellee had captured me. Fate would always bring me back to Oberon, and the king would ask his questions. I’d spent nights awake going over my answers, making the truths work for me so I didn’t have to lie.
“The vakaru was a Halow lawman. A marshal. He detained me after I secured Eledan.” I reached down for my clothes. I could do this. I’d lied to Mab for years. “Eventually, he released me, with conditions. I’ve spent the last few months trying to escape him.”
“I have not instructed you to dress.” He hadn’t turned, hadn’t looked. “Does he know you’re mine?”
I dropped my vest. “Yes. He tried to kill me on numerous occasions.”
“That’s unsurprising. His kind was only good for killing.”
“Do you… know him?”
“A lone vakaru is of little concern,” he replied, ignoring my question. Listen to what he doesn’t say. Considering everything I had seen on Valand, Oberon knew exactly who Kellee was.
The king turned and faced the room and me once more. “We have more pressing matters.” He crooked his finger, and Sirius stepped forward. I’d forgotten the guardian was here and felt him keenly as he stood beside me. He’d seen me naked hundreds of times, but this time—everything about this time felt different. Because I was different. Before, I’d been glad to be in the same room as Oberon, to have him look at me, notice me, touch me. Now, all I wanted was to find a weapon and run it through him. Through them both.
“Sire?” the guardian asked.
“From this day until I say otherwise, you are my lana’s guardian.”
My lana.
My star.
My slave name.
He had never called me that before, but clearly, he had known it. Somehow, impossibly. All saru names were sacred. The only thing we truly owned. We never told the fae. So how did the king know mine?
There was only one possibility. He’d named me as a babe. But if he’d named me, that meant he had always been watching me. He’d let me grow and seen me kill fellow saru and climb through the ranks until the day I stopped Aeon from killing him. I’d survived everything Faerie had thrown at me. I’d thought my survival was my doing. But we had always been connected, this new king and I. I had always been his, just like Kellee had said. Worse, Eledan had said it before the fae came and ruined Halow. Eledan had told me the truth.
“We gave you that name. We built you up. We made you what you are today. From the moment the saru breeding bitch squeezed you out, bawling into this world, you belonged to Faerie. Everything you know, everything you are, we gave you.” I heard it so clearly, as though the Mad Prince were standing beside me, hissing the words into my ear. I’d thought he had meant the Wraithmaker name. But what if he’d known the truth, even then? We made you what you are today.
I was falling. If my past was a story, if everything was a lie, then what part of me was true? Was anything of me real? I was saru. That was real. They could not take that from me.
“You want me to guard her?” Sirius asked, barely suppressing a snarl.
Neither saw my trembling. I closed my hands into fists and pushed the bad thoughts away. It didn’t matter. The past couldn’t hurt me. Not anymore. I was my own person now.
“No, I want you to be her guardian,” the king said. “You will not leave her side. You will be with her every moment of every day. You will watch everything she does, and every word that passes her lips you will report back to me.”
The king knew everything I’d told him was karushit. Kellee, Talen—Oberon knew they meant more to me than tools with which I’d tried to get back to Faerie. How could he not? And so Sirius was my punishment, my cage.
Sirius stiffened. “Sire, have your saru observe her. I am a Royal Guardian. I have served you and Faerie in battle for thousands of years. My place is by your side—”
“Should any harm come to her,” Oberon cut in, “that same harm will be inflicted upon you. You are to protect her with your life. If she dies, so will you. Do you understand?”
Oberon couldn’t mean it? Sirius was immortal. To kill him for my short life? It would be an insult.
Sirius fell to a knee. “Sire, please… do not cast me out like this.”
Oberon’s gaze grew heavy. “Do not beg, Sirius. It’s beneath you.”
“Guarding her is beneath me—”
“Do not presume—”
“The arm!” Sirius lifted his arm and rocked back on his heels. “This monstrosity was not my doing! She did this to me. She mutilated me. She is a curse!”
“Silence!” the king boomed in a voice designed to command armies. “Or by Faerie I will see you executed alongside the saru gladiator.”
Sirius closed his eyes and wearily rose to his feet. When he opened his eyes, he was the immovable wall of guardian he’d always been. “You are punishing me.”
Oberon smiled. “No, I am promoting you. Mylana is everything and must be guarded at all costs.” He turned his attention to me. “The gladiator will die in your place. If I hear a single word of protest fall from your lips, I will confine you to the catacombs.” He nodded toward the door. “You are both dismissed.”
I gathered my clothes and followed Sirius out of the room. The guardian marched ahead like an angry wall of fire,
leaving me trying to dress and jog to catch up. “Sirius…” On and on he walked, cloak flaring. Any faster and he’d be running. “Sirius, wait!”
He stopped rigid in the corridor, radiating the kind of fury that had my saru instincts gearing up to fight or flee. I stepped in front of him, blocking his path. His cheek twitched as he glared far over my head, probably wishing I didn’t exist.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he would do this.”
His throat moved as he swallowed. “For all the gifts he has bestowed upon you, you are mortal. You’ll eventually wither and die, and I will live. All of this will be another moment in the tapestry of my past. I will survive you, Wraithmaker.” He shoved me aside and stopped at a turn in the corridor. “Come, saru. You will need to secure shared sleeping quarters.”
Sirius would not let me out of his sight. He would follow Oberon’s words to the letter because he had everything to prove. My plans to save Arran and the fate of all saru had just become a whole lot more difficult with Sirius as my shadow.
Marshal Kellee
I had always protected others. Since Oberon had taken my people from me, I had always righted wrongs, fought the injustice for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. I had thousands upon thousands of deaths on my soul, and I had always planned on balancing those scales. The star cradled in my hand stood for that justice. It represented the laws that governed Halow, represented everything right. But those laws had died when the fae returned, and I wondered if “right” had been a dream. I continued to wear it, this small golden star, as a token, a shield. Now tarnished and scratched up, it still stood for something. It had to.
I stood for something.
“You’ve been staring at that star for hours. Unless it is also a key, what do you hope to get from it?” Talen inquired. The fae was sitting cross-legged in the center of the small cell the Earthens had locked us inside. The heat of the iron bars beat against him, but he showed no signs of pain. Not yet. He looked like something from the Earthen fairytales, effortlessly striking in his leather getup. I was still surprised they hadn’t executed him on Hapters. When they had come blazing in through the chaos in their enormous ship, we had lost against the unseelie. They’d saved us, but we wouldn’t have needed saving had they not attacked.
The Nightshade's Touch: A Paranormal Space Fantasy (Messenger Chronicles Book 3) Page 29
