Daughter of the Dark Moon: Book 3 of the Twin Moons Saga

by Holly Bargo

  “Are there no humans here?” she finally asked, keeping her voice low once she understood the reason for the uniformity of the populace within the magnificent, sprawling palace.

  “Humans in the Seelie Court?” Uberon scoffed, keeping his voice low and quiet as well. “Until only a few centuries ago, no humans existed here at all.”

  She frowned. “What about Catriona and Oriel? And me?”

  “They have long since relinquished their humanity; they are fully fae as are you,” he said. He took a breath and asked in a suspiciously casual tone, “Have you heard of the Bermuda Triangle?”

  “Of course. What about it?”

  “There are places where dimensions and worlds rub closely together such that sometimes they overlap.”

  “You’re telling me the Bermuda Triangle is one of those places?”

  He nodded. “Such overlapping occurs irregularly and unpredictably and acts as a portal for whatever it catches. For instance in your world, a ship called the USS Wasp was lost in 1814 in the Bermuda Triangle. The crew and passengers washed up on the continent’s southeastern shores and soon assimilated into the existing population there. Fyrgia and Nymmur arose from survivors of the shipwrecks captured by such portals.”

  She blinked and wondered if those humans had progressed in terms of art, philosophy, politics, and technology as had Earth.

  “No,” he answered. “Women on such ships were uncommon, so those who did arrive quickly found themselves in high demand as breeding stock. The prettiest ones commanded the highest prices.”

  “They sold the women?”

  “Women were chattel already with little or no rights then; why should landing in new territory change that?” he shot back with cold logic. “Few of those vessels carried books: gold, jewels, porcelain, spices, sugar, but not books.”

  “But … but disappearances continued into the twentieth century. What about those people and the more modern ideas they brought with them?”

  “They had little impact,” Uberon answered. “Perhaps in small pockets of communities, small settlements, you’ll find more enlightened attitudes, but I’ve not come across any. The diversity of cultures is one of the reasons I have enjoyed visiting your old world.”

  “You probably didn’t seek them out either,” Corinne grumbled, thinking that he could have at least offered to teach them.

  “You’re correct,” he admitted without remorse. “The humans who landed in this world and developed their own cultures hold the fae in suspicion, if not outright contempt. I saw no reason to seek them out. I tried once; they did not welcome me.”

  “But, couldn’t you have—”

  “Forced them? Aye, I could. But I allowed them their choice. Humans so often choose poorly.”

  “Bide here, my lord, my lady,” their guide bade them, coming to a halt for a second before walking through another doorway with tall wooden doors set with gleaming silver panels.

  “Ah, the throne room,” Uberon murmured.

  “I thought we were to be taken to the Great Hall.”

  “The Great Hall serves as a throne room. This is where their majesties give audience to their subjects.”

  “So, they’re treating us like subjects.”

  “I admire a clever female.”

  She scowled at his faint smirk, even though the compliment pleased her.

  One of the tall doors swung open slowly as though weighted by millennia of petitioners’ expectations. A magnificently garbed major domo stood before them and looked down his long, straight nose.

  “How shall I announce you, my lord?”

  “Their Majesties, King Uberon and Queen Corinne of the Quoliálfur.”

  The major domo’s pale eyebrows shot upward and disappeared into his hairline. “There is no Queen of the Quoliálfur.”

  Uberon’s smile could have graced a great white shark. “There is now.”

  The major domo swallowed nervously and rapped his staff twice on the marble floor. The sound reverberated in the enormous space.

  “Their Majesties King Uberon and Queen Corinne of the Quoliálfur approach.”

  “Rest your fingertips atop my forearm,” Uberon instructed, holding up his arm, which Corinne abruptly noticed was freshly encased in a black leather vambrace chased in silver. A quick glance at him had her gaping in astonishment, for his chest, shoulders, torso, and back were bare but for the bejeweled silver filigree embedded in his skin. She ran her gaze down where a heavy black leather belt topped a black leather battle kilt. She’d thought Liam Neeson could rock a kilt, but … oh, my!

  Corinne placed her fingertips on his forearm and noticed that misty green silk wrapped her arm. Silver lace draped over her wrist and dripped from the cuff. She glanced down and saw not her travel-worn clothes, but an elegant gown finer than anything she had ever worn. With her free hand, she touched the heavy weight that pressed upon her head and realized that her hair had been cleaned and coiled into an elaborate arrangement and topped by a what felt like an intricately fashioned crown. A light current of cool air wafted over her and she realized that most of the silver and black diamonds embedded in her skin were on display.

  She returned her gaze to Uberon, his powerful stride propelling him down the length of the Great Hall like an evil fairy king bent on lending the full weight of his influence and lineage to this meeting with the Seelie King. His long black hair hung free, a straight fall of ebony extending nearly to his waist. Two thin, intricate plaits pulled the hair away from his face and descended, caught at intervals with knots of silver. A short-pronged crown graced his head.

  When the hell had this happened? How the hell had this happened?

  “You bow to no one,” he whispered the reminder.

  Corinne scrambled to keep up.

  “Your Majesty,” the obviously tall, elegant, and insanely handsome—were all these people too beautiful for words?—king greeted Uberson with a polite murmur and a cool nod. “What brings you to the Seelie Court?”

  “I accompany my queen to our new home,” Uberon replied with an answering nod of recognition, one king to another.

  “I have not heard of this Quoliálfur.”

  “It’s recently established,” Uberon replied. “I have carved out a new kingdom from the Quol and my castle awaits.”

  “Castle?”

  “Aye. This one recognizes me, as well it should since I had a hand in the creation of it. Ask it and it shall confirm that a new castle has emerged from a mountain.”

  Corinne concentrated on keeping her mouth closed, rather than agape like an imbecile, as the Seelie king spoke in that powerful, fluid language she had sufficient education to know was the Old Tongue, even if she did not understand what he said. The immense edifice rumbled, speech manifesting aloud in the sighing of wind through passageways and the grinding of stone. The Seelie king turned his attention back to Uberon, though his queen’s attention never left their royal guests.

  “You have spoken no falsehood,” King Mogren acknowledged. “What do you intend for what remains of the Unseelie Court?”

  “Those who wish to be assimilated into the Seelie Court may remain to subject themselves to your rule. Those who do not have already relocated.”

  Mogren nodded. “I wondered at the depopulation of the Unseelie Court. This serves as explanation.”

  “I’ve had a few centuries to work on it.” Uberson shrugged as though stealing away a sizeable population and relocating them to form a new nation carved from a hostile territory were a minor accomplishment.

  Corinne blinked. Perhaps for Uberon it was. She blinked again, realizing that “a few centuries” counted as recent to these people.

  “And who is this at your side, Uberon?”

  Uberon brought his mate’s hand to his mouth and lightly kissed the back of her knuckles. Lowering her hand, yet not relinquishing it, he replied, “May I present to you my mate, Corinne?”

  She heard whispers of “soul-bonded” from onlookers scattered throughout
the room.

  “We wondered how you fared when your first mate passed.”

  “We were mated, but not soul-bonded,” Uberon replied in answer to the unasked and impertinent question. “But I have found my destined mate and I am well pleased with her.” He gave her hand a light squeeze. “And I dare hope she is well pleased with me.”

  Titters of amusement raced around the room. Corinne blushed.

  “Unseelie?” the Seelie queen inquired.

  “Human,” Corinne replied with a slight snarl roughening her voice.

  Whispered exclamations of “moon-born” rose in the air.

  “Dark moon,” Uberon said, the syllables sharp as shattered glass. “Given immortality by my power.”

  Stunned silence met his pronouncement of strength and superior power. Corinne pressed her lips together, more than a little irritated to have been used as the trump card in this pissing contest. She resented being presented as a trophy, a sort of example of Uberon’s might and an indirect threat of the power the Seelie Court faced should they cross him.

  That wasn’t nice or necessary.

  It was absolutely necessary, beloved. You are mine in every way and they will now respect that. Otherwise, I would find myself in a war with the Seelie Court for Marog’s attempt to usurp the bond between Catriona and Thelan. I could have forcibly stopped it, but did not.

  They still blame you for your son’s actions? Ludicrous. You cannot be responsible for the actions of someone else. She paused, then snapped, I am my own.

  His indulgent chuckle in her mind infuriated her. The moment you accepted my claim, when you received me inside your body, you agreed to become mine in body, soul, heart, and mind. The transformation confers power; it must for the individual’s survival. Mogren sees your power and does not like it, especially not bound to me.

  Despite not really understanding the implication of her decision, she knew ignorance gave her no defense. Ignorance did not excuse her, despite any wish otherwise.

  Could someone really usurp the soul bond?

  Uberon did not answer her unspoken question. She pondered that a moment longer and decided that he wouldn’t have mentioned it if it had not been a possibility. She chewed on her lower lip as she imagined—rather easily—him taking on the entire Seelie Court, flashing sword in hand like some sort of uber-Aragorn … but even more deadly and infinitely sexier.

  Really, she had to stop thinking in terms of Hollywood movies and overactive hormones, especially since she was certain she’d never see another movie and she was angry enough to make Uberon sleep on the proverbial sofa for years to come.

  Lost in her thoughts, she did not hear the remainder of the conversation and gasped, startled when a cool hand touched hers. She looked up into the brilliant eyes of Queen Cenise.

  “Overbearing, aren’t they?” she murmured with a small smile. “Catriona was much like you when she arrived. I enjoy her company very much; she has become a good friend. I would enjoy the pleasure of your company tomorrow morning in my solar.”

  Corinne blinked, not really knowing what to say.

  Alliances may be forged by queens, Uberon whispered into her brain even as he returned verbal tit for tat with the Seelie king.

  Jeez, why don’t you guys just whip ’em out and get it over with?

  Because when I “whip” mine out, it will seek you.

  You’re annoying me, Uberon. I’m mad at you.

  I know and will tease you from your ill humor.

  Corinne wanted to growl with exasperation and smack him upside the head. Instead, she glanced back at the queen whose knowing expression encouraged her to feel that she had, perhaps, found a friend. She pasted a smile on her face and said aloud, “Thank you for the gracious invitation. I’m honored to accept.”

  CHAPTER 11

  After a bit more posturing between kings and trading not-so-veiled threats, the audience ended. Courtiers hung back, either not daring to commit offense or not desiring to sully themselves through association with the deposed Unseelie king. However, four palace guards approached at their king’s summons, two to lead Uberon somewhere and two who more or less ordered Corinne to accompany them somewhere else.

  At least they did not lead her to the dungeons, because a palace like this surely had dungeons. Instead, the two guards led her to a pleasant, sunlit room where several ladies gathered, including one whose appearance tickled Corinne’s memory. That female rose from her chair and approached to greet the new arrival. The others drew back, pulling their skirts closer around them as though the sweep of Corinne’s hem against their clothes would transfer some dread contagion. She heard whispers of “Unseelie” and “cursed” and “unclean” around her. The power within her flared, hot and dangerous, darkening her green eyes with a fiery glint and causing the black diamonds on her body and in her crown to pulse.

  “Hello! You must be Lady Corinne. I’m Lady Daniellisande, daughter of Lady Catriona and mated to Lord Enders.”

  “Enders,” Corinne murmured, then the memory of the austere beauty of the male whom Uberon seemed to accord at least some respect. The flare of power calmed and, though she did not know it, the other ladies in the room breathed a collective sigh of relief. “He accompanied us here.”

  “Aye,” Daniellisande replied with a smile. “And he was none too happy about it, either.”

  “Why? We’ve never done anything to him.”

  “You? No, you haven’t. But Enders and Uberon have a long and troubled history of which not even I know the whole.” She grinned. “One of these days, those two are going to meet in the arena and beat each other to a pulp. Males do seem to need to do that to settle issues between them, don’t they?”

  Corinne sighed. “Yeah, they do. I have five brothers—all older—and they’re never so happy as when they’re beating the hell out of each other.”

  The raven-haired beauty’s eyebrows rose at Corinne’s blunt language, but she chuckled all the same.

  “Five brothers? Really? How marvelous!”

  “I didn’t fear much in the way of bullies,” Corinne admitted. “But they’re all a little overprotective and overbearing.”

  “My mother is Catriona, called the moon-born. She was once human. Growing up, she told me stories of the children she raised during that period of her life. I can hardly imagine it. Enders and I have not yet been blessed with a child, though I know he longs for one as much as I.”

  Corinne blinked at this openness from the stranger who drew her to sit with her on a sunny window bench. She ventured, not really knowing how to respond, “I haven’t seen many children since I’ve been here.”

  “And you won’t,” Daniellisande replied with a little moue of sorrow. “It makes sense if one thinks about it. Immortals who reproduced like humankind would soon overpopulate the world. Therefore, we have few children and those are doubly precious to us for their rarity.”

  Corinne could understand that and nodded. Now that the subject had been broached, she began counting and realized that she’d not had a period in … well, not since she arrived. But she wasn’t pregnant. At least, she didn’t think so. She looked at her new friend and, with more than a touch of embarrassment, asked, “Do fae women have … er … menstrual cycles?”

  “You mean monthly bleeding like human females?” Daniellisande tilted her head to one side as she considered what she knew on the topic. “No. I believe it is nature’s way of limiting our reproductive capacity. However, I am sure I would not like to experience these menstrual cycles as I have heard them described.”

  She leaned forward. “Mama explained them to me when I was quite young, thinking that I would need to have such knowledge in preparation of feminine maturity. She was mistaken, but I remember pitying the human girls who had so little control over their own bodies. What was it like for you? I assume you are sufficiently mature to have experienced that biological process?”

  Corinne’s expression turned wry and she replied in a dry tone, “You could say th
at. My … er … courses started when I was only ten years old. My father was horrified. My mother took it in stride and showed me what to do. No one ever told me about the cramps though. God, those were awful.”

  “Cramps? Please explain. I have concluded that such a biological process would be inconvenient and, well, messy, but I did not know it could be painful, too.”

  Corinne wondered how much this apparently very young woman—female—knew about reproduction and decided to go for broke. “You know that a woman’s uterus contracts to push out the baby?”

  “Of course.” Daniellisande leaned back and waited for more information.

  “Well, for many girls, the uterus contracts when they have their monthly bleeding. The contractions are painful, sometimes extremely painful.”

  “Oh, those poor dears. Do they outgrow this pain?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “I never knew human females endured such misery simply due to biology.” The black-haired female gazed out the window. “Perhaps I should be grateful to be fae and not envy human females their reproductive capacity.”

  “Mom always said each of her children was a gift worth any amount of pain.”

  Daniellisande reached over to pat Corinne’s hand. “I am sure she meant it with all her heart.”

  “I hear you’ve found a new friend,” a new voice interrupted.

  Corinne looked at the female joining them and realized she was the one who’d rushed into the courtyard to greet Captain Thelan.

  “Hello, Mama,” Daniellisande greeted, rising to her feet to embrace a woman who appeared young enough to be her twin. “Your reunion with Papa went well?”