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

by Holly Bargo

  She stood, feeling a little self-conscious although she did not know why, especially after the vigorous activity of the mating bed. She supposed “marriage bed” wasn’t quite accurate.

  A breath later, she felt the touch of fine fabric against her skin. She looked down to see herself clothed in a silvery green riding habit that resembled no historical style to which she could put an era of fashion. However, from her vantage point, it certainly looked elegant. She lifted the skirt just enough to peek at the soft leather boots that encased her feet.

  “You know, this is really pretty, but pants would be more practical.”

  “Not if I’m going to fuck you again in the next few hours.”

  And, just like that, her core heated and moistened and her nipples beaded and visibly pressed against the bodice of her dress. Apparently, her libido liked when he talked dirty.

  This is embarrassing.

  Uberon held out his arm and she placed her fingertips on his forearm. He murmured as they walked from the room, “You’re mine. Do not be ashamed to show it.”

  “I don’t think anybody could miss that.”

  “Good. Let them witness and gnash their teeth with envy.”

  “You can be a real jerk, you know that?”

  “It’s good to be me,” came the dry response.

  She laughed and her amusement cheered Uberon to no end.

  By the twin moons, he loved this female.

  The wench slid plates heaped with thick slices of buttered bread, boiled eggs, strips of fried meat, and scoops of shredded vegetables, some of which were pickled. Corinne didn’t question the food too closely, sure that she probably did not want to know the source of some of those meats and vegetables. She tasted everything on her plate and ate what appealed.

  “Milk? But you said there were no cows around here,” she commented when peering into the heavy earthenware mug beside her plate.

  “Goat’s milk,” he guessed as he brought a mug of ale to his mouth. “If you don’t like it, we’ll see if they have some juice.”

  She nodded, not looking forward to the option of quaffing heavy, dark ale with her breakfast. Corinne took a sip of the warm goat’s milk and wrinkled her nose at the musty flavor. She coughed.

  “Um, no. It might work for cheese, but … no. Just no.”

  Uberon nodded and signaled at the serving wench. She approached, her expression wary.

  “Somethin’ not to yer likin’, milord?”

  “Have you any fruit juice?” Uberon inquired, affecting a pleasant demeanor that didn’t quite convince the wench if her still-wary expression told the truth.

  “We got duku,” the woman replied. “I can have the cook squeeze it for yer.”

  “That will do nicely,” the fae lord replied. “Be sure to bring some honey, too, just in case the duku isn’t ripe.”

  The wench nodded and retreated to the kitchen.

  “What’s duku?” Corinne asked.

  “It’s a tropical fruit that tastes something like grapefruit.”

  She pursed her lips and nodded. She preferred grapefruit-flavored juice to the strong, musty goat’s milk. She wondered how he knew about grapefruit, but then reconsidered asking. Some things really weren’t that important. Besides, he’d mentioned previous trips to her old world, so the idea of his being exposed to grapefruit during those visits made sense.

  The wench returned soon with an earthenware tumbler filled with watered-down duku juice. She waited a moment for the fae lord’s nod of approval, which he did not offer until his mate had tasted the juice and indicated her acceptance, before attending to her other duties.

  “Thanks, U—”

  “How much for the wench?” came a raspy demand from behind Uberon.

  Corinne choked on her juice and looked at her mate, who turned around with icy deliberation to face a tall, burly male with deeply coppery red skin and thick black hair caught in a queue at the nape of his neck.

  “My mate is not for sale,” Uberon replied, every syllable sharper than broken glass.

  “How much for just a candlemark? She looks clean. Young. Fresh.”

  Corinne felt power gather with her outrage. Bracing her hands on the tabletop, she pushed upward. “Look, moron—”

  “Leave or die,” Uberon snapped.

  The interloper dared put his hand on her, though the touch offered no overt violence.

  “Hands off,” Corinne snarled as she wrenched her arm from his light grasp. She leveled a blast of fire, which he shrugged off and absorbed as though she’d done nothing more than blow a puff of air at him.

  “Fire’s useless against a djinn,” the male said with a grin displaying brilliant white teeth. “But I’ll enjoy showing you.”

  Corinne raised her other hand to launch another blast of power at him, but Uberon forestalled her with a mere finger laid upon her upper arm.

  “You made your choice,” he said, and unleashed his cold fury. The djinn gasped as his skin purpled, then went blue and hard. It cracked as the liquids within his body froze and expanded. The sharp inhalation of breath ended with a crackling rattle as his lungs froze.

  “Uberon?”

  “Yes, beloved?”

  “You’ve killed him.”

  “Aye.” Now frozen solid, the djinn began to crumble into tiny shards of ice.

  Corinne averted her gaze and gulped air to quell the sudden need to vomit. “He’s … he’s …”

  Her mate turned his face toward her, icy silver eyes meeting hers. She shivered at the utter lack of humanity in his face. She gulped again. This formidable male who made her body sing and who cared for her needs with such diligent tenderness had just killed a man—male?—who dared insult her. Corinne wondered about this powerful male’s value system, then realized in truth that not only was he not human, he also subscribed to an alien code of honor she might never understand.

  “Have you finished eating?”

  She blinked and gaped in shock at his dispassionate tone. She glanced back at her plate and the thought of eating anything else churned her stomach. Corinne shook her head, unable to verbalize an answer.

  Uberon correctly interpreted her horrified expression. He extended his hand and said, “Come. We must be on our way.”

  Corinne blinked and obeyed, putting her palm to his out of newly formed habit if for no other reason. Despite the cold brutality she had just witnessed, she trusted him. Uberon would not harm her.

  Uberon kept his grasp loose and gentle, knowing that his defense of her honor had frightened her. She’d become accustomed to the harsh code of honor to which the fae subscribed, the strict necessity a fae male obeyed to protect his fragile mate, regardless of whether she actually was fragile. She followed him, stepping with careful delicacy so as not to tread upon any of the rapidly thawing pellets of the offensive djinni male. Uberon tossed a silver coin on the table in payment of the food and the task of cleaning the detritus of dead djinn.

  “Stop!” a deep voice commanded as the fae lord led his mate through the doorway toward the stable yard.

  Uberon halted, repressing a small sigh of annoyance. He partially turned to look at who dared command him and raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

  “I’m the sheriff of Donshae and you’re accused of murder, my lord,” the male said with grim determination. “Release the female and come with me. You’re under arrest.”

  Uberon did not blink. Instead, he gave the interfering male an opportunity to live. “The djinn insulted my mate. I am within my rights to defend her honor.”

  The male pressed his lips together and exhaled a gusty breath through his nose. “My lord, we have laws and make no exception for race.”

  Corinne squeezed Uberon’s hand and he acquiesced to her unspoken demand for mercy.

  “No one places a hand upon my mate without her assent. That male did and received justice for the insult. Delay us no further.”

  The sheriff’s expression darkened. “Not even a fae lord is above our law, sir.”


  Corinne felt Uberon grow still and knew that the sheriff’s life grew immeasurably short.

  “Sir, the man accosted me. My husband … er … mate defended me. Surely, you would not persecute him for that?”

  Uberon’s heart quivered and warmed at her defense of him, her small attempt to spare him retribution from the law. He gave her hand a light squeeze and let his ire dissolve.

  “Quiet, female,” the sheriff ordered. “This does not concern you.”

  “What? Of course, this concerns me! I was the one the djinn accosted.”

  “He discounts you as nothing more than my chattel,” Uberon murmured in explanation. “You have no rights here.”

  Fury swelled within Corinne’s heart, making the swirling design and black diamonds glow. The sheriff averted his eyes against the brilliant glare from above the modest neckline of her riding habit.

  She took a step toward him and hissed, “I’ll show you what dumb chattel can do.”

  “Control your female, my lord. She won’t like what happens otherwise.”

  “Ooooh!” she screeched.

  “My lady is powerful in her own right, Sheriff,” Uberon replied with freezing calm, still keeping firm hold of Corinne’s hand. “She does not require my protection, though she has it.”

  “Nonetheless, you’re under arrest for the murder of Ibi Abdeel Elzawad, captain of the Wind Scarab.”

  “The crew of the Wind Scarab will have to find a new captain. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  The sheriff gestured and six deputies emerged from concealment. No surprise showed on Uberon’s face.

  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

  “Or we can not do this at all,” Uberon replied and unleashed his will. The six deputies suddenly clutched at their throats as the air around them disappeared. “Step aside or let your men die. It’s your choice.”

  “Release them from your deviltry, fae!”

  “Drop your charges and vow not to pursue us.”

  The sheriff watched in horror as his men turned bluish from a lack of air. With begrudging concession, he accepted defeat, unwilling to sacrifice half his deputies. “Go then, and do not return.”

  “Gladly,” Uberon replied and released his will. Air rushed back into the six separate vacuums with a series of loud cracking noises. He crooked a finger at the hostler who stood beneath the eaves of the stable, reins in hand and face pale with dread. “You’ll not see us again in your lifetime.”

  The sheriff opened his mouth and Corinne interrupted before he could speak. “If you don’t want that lifetime to end now, you’ll hold your tongue, mister.”

  The sheriff’s mouth snapped shut as the hostler led the horses forward. The fae lord and his lady mounted their steeds, settling into finely crafted saddles. His eyes glittered with impotent outrage at having been so easily bested in front of a mere woman. By a mere woman.

  “The fae have long memories,” Uberon warned as his large black destrier drew alongside the sheriff. “And anything with human blood has a short life. Save your life and your justice for those who merit it.”

  The black destrier launched forward with a mighty heave of its burly haunches. The golden palfrey followed close behind. The sheriff turned around slowly, his traumatized deputies gathering around him, to watch the formidable Unseelie fae lord and his Unseelie mate ride north toward the harbor’s shore.

  “Are you going after them?” one of the deputies inquired, rubbing at his throat.

  “No. He won’t be back.”

  “You can’t be sure of that.”

  “Fae don’t lie. They don’t have to.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Uberon felt his mate’s discomfort as they rode. Skimming her thoughts and emotions he observed her reaction to a new understanding of her dependency upon him. She struggled with the concept of limited—or nonexistent—rights and privileges, far different than what she was accustomed to. In many ways, his world imposed greater burdens and expectations upon its females than did hers.

  “Am I really your property?” she asked in a small, uncertain voice.

  He answered as honestly as he could without causing Corinne additional and unnecessary distress. “You are mine, but I do not consider you chattel. I would never see you as mere property.”

  She favored him with a small smile of gratitude, but did not accept his evasion. “That doesn’t answer my question, Uberon. Am I chattel?”

  “Donshae is a free city in that it vows allegiance to no one nation. It is governed by a council of men who decide the laws that benefit them. It benefits them to relegate females to chattel.”

  “How does it benefit them?” she cried.

  He raised an eyebrow in silent reminder of her own world’s history, of the cultures in which women still petitioned and fought for basic rights as thinking, feeling human beings. Corinne sighed in defeat and guessed she ought to be grateful that Uberon was more considerate of her.

  “I don’t want your gratitude,” he said, his voice guttural and rough.

  Her gaze flew to him, tall and elegant in the saddle as the horses moved swiftly, steadily, tirelessly.

  “I want you. I want everything you are and, in return, I give you all that I am.” He glanced at her, held her gaze for a long, intense moment. “Our souls are merged. I could no more desecrate you than myself.”

  She nodded, knowing that much about the arrogant and proud Unseelie king. She also supposed that the exchange of everything of herself for everything of himself was rather uneven. He was larger than life. Legendary. So much more.

  Not for the first time in her short life, Corinne felt inadequate.

  “Never.”

  She glanced at him again.

  He thumped a fist against his muscled chest. “Fate does not pair the souls of unequal mates. You complete me. You are light to my darkness, compassion to my cruelty. I give you strength, you give me softness. We complement each other.”

  He opened his mind and pulled her in, so she could see the truth of his words, his conviction. She gasped and tears welled in her eyes.

  “I do not want your gratitude,” he repeated.

  “And I cannot help but give it to you,” she sniffled. “All my life I tagged in someone else’s footsteps. I was never as strong, as fast, or as clever as my brothers. I earned a degree my family does not value because they see no good purpose in it. I began a career that they don’t understand and which offered no consistency, no security.”

  She sniffled and took a moment to bring herself under control.

  “I’m the family failure, the screw-up, the impractical one.”

  “And yet they love you,” he countered.

  “They do,” she acknowledged. “But they don’t understand me.”

  “I do.”

  She sniffled again and nodded. “I think you do, Uberon. Usually.”

  He chuckled and reached across the space between their horses to cup her cheek for a tender second. “A little mystery is always good, eh?”

  “Just a little.”

  Her small smile felt like the appearance of the sun after a storm. His success in reassuring her, easing her emotional pain, swelled his heart and his pride. He raised his hand and pointed ahead.

  “See the three-masted ship?”

  Corinne shaded her eyes and peered into the distance. She barely made out the hazy shape floating on the horizon. “Yes.”

  “That is a private wharf. Donshae does not own it, although the merchant who does lives in the city. We will embark there.”

  “Embark. We’re going on a ship?”

  “It’s the safest way to Quoliálfur without a dragon to fly us there, and few dragons will fly near the Quol. I will not risk you to the Quol.”

  She nodded, certain that she did not care to go anywhere that deterred dragons. “No objections here.”

  She paused as another thought occurred to her.

  “Um, Uberon?”

  “Yes, belo
ved?”

  “This sounds stupid, but what about sea monsters?”

  “Sea monsters?”

  She blushed, which made him smile. “Yeah, you know, large, ravenous creatures that live in the sea. I mean, there are dragons here, unicorns, a lot of other creatures I’m sure I haven’t yet encountered. Why not the Loch Ness Monster and its sisters?”

  “The Loch Ness Monster is a freshwater beast,” he replied. Corinne’s eyes bugged. Was he serious? Or joking? “Yes, we have ocean dwelling creatures here that you might label as sea monsters.”

  “Please don’t tell me you have kraken.”

  “They prefer tropical waters.”

  “We’re in a tropical area.” She gestured at the dark, hungry jungle lurking in the opposite horizon.

  “So we are.”

  “Uberon.” Her voice carried a thread of warning.

  He chuckled, unable to remember if he’d ever had so much fun before taking this fiery female as his mate.

  “I shall protect you, even from sea monsters.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she grumbled. “If your adventures get me killed, I’ll haunt you.”

  He grinned at her and she shook her head at the absurdity.

  “Uberon?”

  “Yes, beloved?”

  “If that wharf is privately owned and not part of Donshae, does it share the city’s protection against the Quol?”

  He approved of her astute question. “The merchant is an old acquaintance of mine. His property and family fall under my protection.”

  She frowned. “Is the Unseelie Court near here then?”

  “No, it’s far south, south of Seelie territory. This continent cools the further south one travels, warms as one goes north.”

  “Southern Hemisphere,” Corinne murmured to herself.

  “Indeed.”

  Her brow wrinkled with thought. “How did the king of a country far to the south come to place a merchant and his family in the far north under his protection?”

  Again, Uberon approved of and delighted in her keen mind and curious nature. “He—or, rather, his family over several generations—procured specimens and material objects for my studies.”