The Fall Of The King (Lightness Saga Book 3)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  Nic stood protectively next to the little girl. He turned to face me, his body relaxed, but his unpatched eye was serious.

  “Go downstairs in the special room until we have this taken care of.” My hands went to Marguerite’s shoulders, while my eyes fixed on Nic. Piper, wearing flannel pajamas, her hair freshly washed, set down her spoon and stared at me. She tilted her head, seeming to find me interesting.

  “But I have cupcakes in the oven.” Marguerite swished her hand, twisting around me for the stove. “Vanilla with sprinkles. Para la niña.” She smiled warmly at the little girl, whose small face bloomed with happiness. I had yet to meet anyone who could fight the love that burst out from Marguerite.

  “Marg—”

  “No, Mr. Lars. We will go after she’s finished.” Her eyebrows tapered down, her jaw set. “Then it is movie night, right, niña?”

  Piper’s grin widened and she nodded eagerly.

  “Fuck,” I mumbled to myself. I could get men of all species to cower before me, but not this human. She was a mule, but also one of the only people in the world to do whatever she pleased, whenever she wanted. That was how much I loved and respected her. She was smart and understood life here. This was not the first time we had been threatened, and she knew when the time was to go into hiding. Some of my tension eased when I realized she was taking charge of Piper.

  “I will be here to make sure they stay safe.” Nic turned to Piper, tickling her. “Uncle Nic’s got this. Right, little one?”

  Piper let out a piercing giggle, wiggling on her stool. Nic and Marguerite would shower this little girl with love. No one could fight their charm, especially together. Piper was safe.

  “My liege.” Travil walked into the kitchen from the other end of the house.

  Her mother, on the other hand, was not safe. Not from me.

  “Where is she?”

  “Tied up in your office.” His eyes glinted like he had enjoyed being the one to do it.

  “You get all the fun.” Goran came up to my side.

  “Report,” I demanded.

  “So far they are just dancing around and making a lot of racket. Rimmon counted about a hundred or so. Not the numbers or the same level of magic as last time,” Travil responded.

  I rubbed the spot between my brows. This “attack” did not make sense. They lost the benefit of a surprise assault. They weren’t beating at my protection wards with magic. And I was no longer sure if my absence just happened to be a coincidence.

  “Rimmon has the men ready to act?”

  “Yes.” Travil nodded. “At your word.”

  “All right, let me talk to our houseguest. See if she can enlighten me.” The demon inside perked up, rumbling my voice. “Be ready for my go-ahead.”

  “Yes, sir.” Both men bowed their heads, heading outside to join their fellow warriors.

  While Marguerite took the rainbow-colored dessert from the oven, a special treat for the little girl, I stormed down the hallway, planning to give the mother a whole different kind of reward for her behavior.

  Torture was dessert to my demon.

  Chapter Nine

  Fionna

  The King had his own force field. Like a tornado, I felt him heading for me, rumbling and ripping away everything in his path. The energy coming off him prickled my skin. He was pissed.

  No, furious.

  The magically bound rope cut into my wrists and dug deeper as I wiggled my back to the wall where Travil had tied me.

  I would never be one to cower, no matter how much force came at me. That was not how Olwyn raised me, and not the foundation my real mother and father ingrained in me before I left them. I took things head-on.

  The door swung open with such force the door handle crashed through the wall and snapped the hinges. The thick plank of wood creaked, smashing to the floor behind the King.

  His face was bleached white, his eyes black. Not even a hint of white bordered his pupils. Shite.

  At the sight of his demon, fear gathered in my limbs, and I curled my legs farther up to my chest, as though they could block me from his wrath.

  He sped toward me with silence and grace I found disturbing. Things like stomping, yelling, threatening with weapons came with anger. Scary as it could be, your brain understood that, even expected it. What Lars could do went past fear, his movement struck my most primal need to run. Cry. Pee myself.

  I fought every instinct, but my chin trembled. I forced it to rise higher.

  His black pits stared down at me.

  “I, I…” I swallowed over the quake in my voice. “I didn’t…”

  The rope fell away from my arms, and a hand clutched my throat, my body rising so fast up the wall I didn’t have a chance to gulp for air.

  “Stupid, Druid,” he snarled, getting close to my face. “Think your pets can save you? That they could seize my walls?” His hand crushed my windpipe, not letting me speak.

  I shook my head back and forth, trying to tell him it wasn’t me. I would not be this foolish. My legs knocked against the wall as I kicked into him. My lungs burned with the need for air, my hands scratching at his fingers. He wasn’t using his powers to strangle me; he was doing it himself.

  “Though I’ll bet you weren’t counting on your daughter being here.” He slammed me again against the wall, blackness fringing my vision. “I should walk her out there, let them get a whiff of the magic already coming off her.”

  Something snapped inside me.

  Feral. Protective.

  I went wild; one of my kicks hit him right where I hoped. Fae or human, King or beast, you could always count on the same weakness: their dicks. With a grunt, he released his hold on me, and my body landed on the wood floor with a thunk, pain jolting through my tailbone. Oxygen wheezed down my throat, so raw it felt as if I were swallowing nails, but my lungs hungrily consumed as much as they could.

  A deep growl vibrated through the room, and I knew I only had seconds to convince him I didn’t send for the strighoul.

  “This. Wasn’t. Me,” I croaked, shoving back onto my feet, one hand still rubbing at my raw throat. “I had nothing to do with the strighoul tonight.”

  Still bent forward, his empty eyes stared at me from under his eyebrows, his lips twisted into a snarl.

  “I’m not stupid. Lars, you know that. I would never make a mistake like this.” I stood to my full height. “I’m actually a little insulted you would think this was my doing.”

  “Why shouldn’t I, Druid?” He slowly straightened. His skin had a little more color in it, but his eyes stayed black pools of anger. “You attacked me before using those foul things. You almost had me, my men…your sister blown up.”

  “Yes, I did.” It was all I could respond. He would either believe me or not. “But this time it’s not me.”

  In a blink, his face was in mine, leering down. The muscles along his jaw twitched. “If I find out…”

  “You won’t,” I replied.

  A crackled voice came from Lars desk. “Sir, some are in the field. They have torches and looked to be building something. Waiting on your word, sir.” Without looking away from me, he reached back, grabbing the walkie-talkie on his desk.

  “Attack,” he said to his men, then set the device back down, his attention on me again. “I think it’s time you tell me where the cauldron is, and let me warn you, Druid, I am not in the best of moods tonight.”

  He didn’t say it, but the threat gurgled under every word. My daughter was up on the table. Shite. Shite. Fuck. Shite.

  One of the cards I had, if played, might—no, would—end everything right here. I swallowed, letting the lie roll off my tongue with confidence.

  “Prague.”

  “Where in Prague?”

  I pinched my mouth together.

  “Ah.” He grinned, which looked more like a sneer. “You think if you tell me, I will kill you. That I’ll have no need for you anymore.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You think me
a fool?” He tilted his head. “The treasure would be layered under spells and protections. Ones, I have a feeling, only a Druid could undo. You are coming with me.”

  “Coming with you?” My eyes went wide. I was hoping I had more time. Time to get my daughter and run.

  “You will be attached to my hip, Druid, until the moment you put it in my hands.” Terror filled me. Hide it, Fi. He will be able to feel it coming off you.

  “Sir!” Goran’s voice broke again over the device.

  Lars took a beat, then finally turned his head, breaking his intense gaze from me.

  “Did you take care of them?”

  “Yes. Most are dead, some got away, but I have men running them down.”

  “Thank you, Goran.”

  “Uh, sir, I think you need to come out here.”

  “Why?”

  “They left a message for you, sir. That’s what they were building out here.”

  Lars made a strange noise, set down the walkie-talkie, and grabbed my arm, pulling me with him.

  “Let go of me.” I stumbled and tripped trying to keep up with his long legs.

  “I told you, Ms. Cathbad. You will be glued to me from now on.”

  With his speed, he practically dragged me out to the field, only releasing my arm when we reached his group of men. I could hear the crackle of the fire, and what appeared to be several bonfires were flaming behind the soldiers.

  Goran stepped aside, letting Lars walk past him. Curiosity drove me and I found myself alongside him, staring at the display before our feet. Lars’s body went rigid.

  “Definitely not me,” I muttered.

  When Lars looked at me again his eyes were back to the bright yellow-green, fire reflecting off them. Then he stepped forward, crouching down close to the flames, and touched an oily leaf not yet ignited.

  The foliage used as kindling was not brush you normally found around the Pacific Northwest.

  “Is that…?”

  “Olive tree.” Lars rubbed it between his fingers, his expression distant, almost lost in thought.

  “Olive?”

  “Yes, just like the ones from my home country. Similar to the ones on my parents’ property.” He stood, whirling away, striding back to the house.

  I gazed back down at the ground, the heat of the flames crackling my skin. Written out in fragments of olive branches…

  Coming for what is mine.

  Chapter Ten

  Lars

  “If you need anything else, sir, just let me know.” Melanie handed me my glass of Scotch from a bottle over a hundred and fifty years old. My extremely long lifespan gave me the luxury of waiting for Scotch to age well and feeling as if it had only been months in the scheme of things.

  “No, thank you,” I snapped, wanting her to go away.

  A flirty smile spread across her face as she winked. “I’m here to serve, my liege.” Her hips swished as she walked over to Goran and Travil in the front of the plane.

  Travil was sound asleep, but Goran sat straight, alert. He was always on, even in the absence of a threat. Goran’s bulky body sat on the bench seats against the window so he could keep an eye on me. However, it seemed he was really keeping an eye on Ms. Cathbad.

  Glaring actually.

  Goran and Travil did not like the Druid, especially after they learned she had bombed the hotel room in Zurich, almost killing all of us.

  Melanie served Goran his spritzer and strolled past me again, her fingers grazing my sleeve, her cue she was ready at any moment for me to call on her. The moment Rez no longer occupied my bed, Melanie made it clear she wanted to be in it. Both Melanie and Jessica were rare air fairies called sylphs. Not many remained, as air pollution killed most of them. Air to a sylph was like placing a water fairy in a river. They overly generated energy, which then needed an outlet.

  I had made a rule a long time ago to not mix employees with pleasure, and I had kept to that rule. Rez had been the exception. My first and last.

  It saddened me, but I missed how easy it had been with Rez. She was fierce in bed and exceptionally smart at running my business. I’d had the best of both worlds, except I never loved her. She had deserved it, but it had been a while since I’d been able to love like that.

  As I swirled my glass, the smoky aroma drifted up my nose, taking the edge off my coiled muscles. Unfortunately, alcohol was not going to relieve what I felt at the present. Only one thing would help me. Fucking.

  My teeth ground as I stared out the plane window, trying to calm the demon. I had yet to sleep, my mind preoccupied with the events of last night and organizing our trip to Prague. Not that I needed much sleep, but this morning I was more agitated and short-tempered than normal.

  My instincts over the centuries were honed and always spot on. However, I still did not want to acknowledge the fluttering voice telling me the incident on my compound with the strighoul was far from some insignificant fae trying to undermine me and challenge my throne.

  The olive branches were significant, as was the specific specie of tree cultivated in Greece, my birthplace. I’d been raised there with my twin brother, Devlin. Greece was my home of origin, Ireland and Scotland were where I became a man, and the Pacific Northwest was where I became a ruler.

  Devlin is dead. Stop being paranoid.

  The glass in my hand groaned under the pressure of my grip.

  “A bit tense today, eh?” Fionna’s Irish accented voice trilled like music in my ear, reminding me of another woman I kept so close to my heart sometimes I couldn’t breathe. Aisling. Her memory haunted me, an ache that did not diminish with the passing years. The Irish lilt took me back to a time in my life when I’d felt joy, love, and abandon as only the young and naïve could have.

  Regrets were a pointless waste of thoughts and energy. But I could not deny I sometimes wondered what would have happened if I had done things differently. Chosen her.

  My gaze swung to Fionna in the seats across from me. She sat with her back to the window facing me, her knees up to her chest, headphones on, and a laptop on her lap. Though it pained me to admit it, she was stunningly beautiful even without makeup. Her huge brown eyes seemed to see through you, with awareness and knowledge, and her rare smile could bring any man to his knees. But it was her strength, her unabashed willingness to survive without apologies I found most attractive.

  A rare glimmer of a smile tipped at her mouth and glistened deep in her dark eyes, like she had been watching me for a while, ready to provoke me. The smile grew full of mocking and stirred a need in my body.

  A rumble came up my throat, and I turned away from her. I needed to fuck. The demon didn’t want her per se; it just felt restless and agitated.

  I tipped the expensive Scotch into my mouth, not even tasting it as I drank it down.

  Being King was always stressful, but lately it seemed relentless. Last night’s event only layered another burden onto my shoulders similar to bricks. The tension came from something I did not want to admit to myself. A shift somewhere deep inside my brain, realizing I was losing self-control of my demon and weakening the hold on my kingdom.

  Your brother is dead. You killed him. Stop being ridiculous.

  “I don’t even want to know how much that Scotch you just guzzled cost.”

  “No.” I looked over at her. “You don’t.”

  “Just think if you spent the money on the homeless,” she challenged. “Or protecting those who have been discriminated against.”

  Anger brushed up my shoulders. “I contribute more money to causes than you could possibly dream up. I am the leader in finding cures for diseases and birth defects. A trailblazer in creating new technology and businesses. I just helped open an orphanage in Seattle. I have reopened colleges and schools. Setting laws to equalize human and fae...”

  Her eyebrows curved up. “I don’t think it’s the engine keeping this plane afloat. Your ego would keep us up here indefinitely.”

  I slammed my glass down, shattering it
into a thousand pieces and making tiny incisions all over my palm. Travil jerked up from his slumber, and Goran looked as if he were ready for my order to lock up Ms. Cathbad again. I was losing control. This seldom happened, but when it did, it was never good. It seemed to be occurring a lot more frequently.

  Melanie and Jessica were instantly at my side, cleaning up the glass before I could even blink. It bothered me, them rushing to my side like I was a baby, cooing and pacifying me.

  I curled my hands into fists. The spot between my shoulder blades quaked with the need to act. To release. The need was so violent I felt I might snap.

  Shit. I was about to break one of my rules.

  “In my office now,” I ordered the blonde fairy.

  Melanie jumped to her feet, rushing toward the back before I changed my mind, a huge grin on her face. My gaze slid only briefly over to Ms. Cathbad, whose lips were parted, mouth open in complete disbelief and disgust. Her judgment only fueled my anger. Who was she to condemn me?

  Honestly, I would have taken both stewardesses in the moment just to shove her revulsion back in her face. But Jessica and Travil had a liaison, even though they both tried to pretend otherwise, and were unaware I was knowledgeable of it. That was a no-go for me.

  Rez was the only one I had been with for decades, even when our bed went cold. Since she left, I needed constant release. It was never more than a onetime association, and always took place in a hotel or my car. Never at my home, my sanctuary, but more like a transaction. And I wanted it that way.

  My private jet was an extension of my home. Melanie had been with me since the beginning. I was being rash. Damn, I was never a fool. Slamming the door to my office, I was ready to tell her to get out, that it was a mistake. Except Melanie was already down to her underwear, leaning against my desk, a coy smile curling her mouth. She was beautiful, and I couldn’t deny my body wanted hers, but my head was telling me the opposite.