by May Sage
Red nodded. "They've dispatched dozens of hunters."
Caim lifted a brow. "Outsystem?"
He'd traveled outside of Sidhe, to the other worlds, a time or two—the journey wasn't pleasant, or useful.
"Yes. There are rumors saying that old Echterion used to have a thing for Earthans back in the day. It's possible he might still have descendants."
Caim frowned.
Centuries ago, in the days of the tithe, his kind used to travel to Earth and other mortal worlds more frequently, to bring back sacrifices they gave to the gods of Tartarus. A way of saying "while we have to guard you, we're not the enemy".
That had stopped after the last king's days. At that time, dozens of women were brought to Sidhe. It was rare that any ever went back to their world, however.
But if Red was right, if the heir of the Iron Circle was outsystem, somewhere in the mortal world, they had a problem. The idea of bringing an outsider to rule one of their most powerful realms didn't sit well with him. They'd know nothing of this world.
They could be trained and suitably advised, but it was hard to keep a puppet in line after adorning its head with a crown.
Then, Caim shrugged off his unsease as he realized something: if the Ironers found that heir, they wouldn’t enthrone him. They’d kill him on sight.
Now wasn't the time to worry about another realm.
He had to claim his first.
Enemies
Mel had never had a headache, not once in her life. She understood the concept, but she hadn't expected the pain to be so acute. It was as if someone was hitting her head from the inside out, over and over at an alarming pace.
She opened her eyes and winced. The cool light was too bright, making the pain at the back of her eyes worse. She shut them again.
It took a second to remember.
Some people had broken into her place. Three men, two women. She might have killed one—at least, harmed them.
Good.
She'd been in her apartment above the shop, and it had been sometime past eleven. Had she crashed for the entire night? Unusual. Mel rarely slept more than a few hours at a time.
She sat up, still confused and groggy. Moving her muscles, she realized how sore she was. She forced her eyelids open and held her arms up to inspect them.
Holy shit.
Her skin, usually golden ochre, like that of most Mediterraneans, was black and blue. She hadn't had so many bruises since the early days of her training, so many years ago. No wonder she was so achy.
Around her wrists, there was a translucent device that glowed a soft gold. She tried to pull her wrists apart and winced. The restraints sent a jolt of energy through her. Not enough to hurt, probably because she hadn't pulled very hard.
Dammit.
She looked around and found nothing. Absolutely nothing, above or below. It was as if she was suspended in midair, inside a bright void.
Mel lurched painfully to her feet. She glanced at her shoulder, and found a dark spot where the syringe had hit her. How the hell had they managed to knock her out with drugs? That was impossible, as far as she knew.
She sighed. Obviously, she didn't know much, and she couldn't blame anyone else for that. She should have pushed, pressed Uri to tell her more about the threat she'd alluded to. In her hubris, Mel hadn't taken it seriously because no one had ever presented a threat to her kind. Being at the top of the food chain had made her weak and complacent. A tamed lioness.
Now wasn't the time for self-pity or recrimination. She needed to get out of here.
As she watched, her bruises were already healing. It wouldn't take long.
Shit, what had she gone through to leave marks like these?
If the strongest human on Earth punched her in the face, she wouldn't have had any bruising at all. A vampire could do some damage with their fangs; a shifter might be able to claw at the surface, too. But those bruises—only another immortal could have hurt her like this.
She was still wearing her tank top and panties, and her legs were in a similar shape to her arms.
"You deserve those."
Mel stiffened, looking all around. The unfamiliar female voice didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular.
"You killed Coder, bitch."
So she had taken out the guy she’d drowned back at her apartment.
Good.
"Your friend, was he? Why don't you come here and kick me some more, then? Unless you prefer to stick to unconscious victims."
A laugh followed. "I could take you with a blindfold on. And no one kicked you. Trust me when I say, when we have time to administer your punishment, you will be conscious for it. And you'll beg us to kill you, quickly."
Mel closed her eyes. They were obviously betraying her—she was concentrating on the illusion she saw rather than what she was feeling. The space around her felt distorted, but the cold surface was undeniable against the bottoms of her feet. They were just messing with her senses. Floor underneath. A wall behind her and to her right. To her left…there was more space. A door, maybe.
Without any warning, the ground surface beneath her thundered, shaking harder, so hard and fast she was bounced around the wall, then the ceiling, and the ground.
She groaned. Ah. So that was what had happened to her. They were in some sort of transport.
A very unsteady transport. And also rather large, if her cell was that spacious. She tried to feel for water around her, in case they were in a submarine.
Mel frowned.
She usually got something, even if it wasn't useful. Rain. Maybe some snow in the distance. Something. There was water everywhere.
But right now, there was absolutely none. Unless they'd somehow managed to cut off her access to her water. Her heart beat at a thousand miles an hour and her breathing got hectic. She was locked up, and completely isolated from her source of power. Mel hadn't thought it was possible to feel so alone and helpless.
She tried to overcome the sudden wave of panic. To still herself, keep her eyes closed, and try to make her expression as unreadable as possible. They were probably watching her. With sharks in the water, it wouldn't do to leave a blood trail. Regardless of how she felt, she endeavored to appear calm. They'd see no weakness from her.
The turbulence didn't last long, and then a high-pitched alarm resounded in the cell. The bright light was shut off, and the next moment, her surroundings completely changed. She was in a cell, as she'd guessed; an oval-shaped barren room with a clear screen letting her see her captor on the other side.
The screen was translucent, and she saw it glow just like her bonds, just like the restraints they'd tried to throw at her the night before. Electrified, she recalled.
On the other side, one of the women who'd attacked her was watching her with a wicked grin on her lips.
She was small and exquisite, with long silver-white hair braided down her back, dark green skin, and sharp bone structure. Notably, her ears were pointed.
Mel smiled back. "Is it time for my punishment? Come and get me."
Confidence was her usual stance, and she adopted it seamlessly now, though inside, she was worried, because she'd never known this. An actual enemy who could potentially be her equal. Potentially. They'd had her once, but she'd been surprised, unprepared for their tech, and outnumbered. In a one-on-one, there was a chance that she could take her.
"I'm looking forward to seeing you break, bitch," the woman told her, before tapping a device on her wrist. A slide opened in the wall separating them, and a bundle of fabric was thrown in the room—then the opening closed as fast as it had opened.
Mel cocked an eyebrow as she nudged the clothes with her foot. "I kill your lover boy and you're dressing me." She chuckled. "You're obviously not in charge, then."
The silver-haired beauty twitched, her eyes flashing. Mel was getting under her skin. The other woman had read the same handbook as Mel, because she was keeping an even expression, but ire poured out of her every pore.<
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"You killed my brother," the woman corrected. "And that blood debt gives me the right to demand your heart on a silver plate, so I may eat it raw."
Somehow, Mel didn't doubt it. The woman did look like she enjoyed that type of diet.
"And again, here I am. In one piece. Heart intact." Mel was trying her luck and she knew it.
"For now," the woman said, before retreating.
Mel’s restraints unlocked as soon as she disappeared. She grabbed the clothes from the floor and got dressed in a form-fitting, light gray suit that may have been comfortable, had it not felt so metallic and cold. It was plain and functional. Then she directed her attention to what she could see of her surroundings. A large open space. Light to the right—perhaps an entrance. In front of her, there was a row of cells just like hers, and inside them, dozens of people were strapped to the walls; a fate usually not enviable, but the turbulence had been so rough she was still aching and bruised. Evidently, the rest of them hadn't offed one of their abductors before being taken.
She lifted her hand to the translucent screen closing her cage and winced. Dammit. It sent a shock through her, four times as strong as the one she’d felt when she’d tugged on her restraints.
Whatever tech these guys used, they weren’t kidding around. She might be able to get free, but it wouldn’t be without pain. And Mel preferred not to risk it without any water accessible around her.
"Congratulations," she heard from somewhere on her right. A man. "You've pissed off an Aos Si."
Mel blinked once, incredulous. And then another time.
Then, she said the one thing that came to mind. "Shut up."
Open Heart
She'd heard of them before, of course. Aos Si were the little people of the mounds. The aes sídhe, the daoine sìth. Little people who cursed sinful humans for kicks. Elves and fae. She knew the stories; they were just that, stories. Mel was part of a community fathered by the gods, born on Olympus. She knew the difference between myths and reality. The Aos Si were myths.
The other prisoner said, "Suit yourself."
He'd obviously taken umbrage to her reply. "No, I meant, shut up like, I don't believe it. That's impossible, right?"
The man sighed. "You're a young one, aren't you?"
She considered the question. Not compared to mortals, but among immortals, yes, she was considered rather young. "I’m a little over two and a half hundred years old."
"A baby," he said. "The Aos Si were the first. The first thing the gods created when they came to this part of the universe. I'm not talking about the way they played with humans, tinkering the evolution of monkeys through time. No, the folks of sith were made on a cellular level, using their tech. Synthetic tissues, designed from the inside out."
Mel frowned. "So, they're robots."
The man clacked his teeth, and mumbled something that sounded like, idiot. "Robot, androids, cyborg—that's what human imagination can comprehend nowadays. The gods who came to us have cracked down immortality, and made it genetic. They created life, not the facsimile of it. Soon, they realized that their creation was too perfect. They were too dangerous to attempt destroying them, and they were also far too strong to live among humans. So, they were banished to another world."
A nice story. Mel was quick to point out its flaw. "If they were that powerful, then why didn't they just say no and stay where they wanted to?"
"Child, I am talking about gods," said the old man, sounding frustrated. "They made them leave. Tied their life force to a tree kept in Sidhe. And their kind have remained there since then."
Again, there was an obvious plot hole. "How did they come to get us, then?"
Silence. For a second, Mel wondered if she'd managed to confuse the old man. The next instant, someone walked in front of her cell, quiet as a shadow.
A man, this time. He hadn't been among the five who'd come for her. She would have remembered him.
Her abductors were stunning. This man…was something else. The smile, the bright eyes, the delicious mouth. He made her want to be his with one glance. Magnetic. That was the word for it. His very presence was a weapon.
Mel took a step back.
"Chatty," he said, voice soft and velvety, like dark chocolate sauce on top of a strawberry.
"We came to get you," he said slowly, "rather easily. Our kind may be parted from our tree of life for an extended amount of time without damage. We just think your world isn't worth the effort."
Just like she'd been able to tell that the other blondie was a servant, she knew, without any doubt, that this was the man in charge.
"I think the better question is why," she finally said. "Why did you take us?"
He smirked. Another weapon, and he honed it like a master who knew just what sort of effect he had on women.
"Lessara wants your beating heart seasoned with bluebells and golden apples."
"Gross. Raw meat without salt?" Mel always had a smartass retort at the ready. Right now, she half wished she could take it back when the boss's smile broadened.
"I hear you killed Coder. A brute and an idiot, but he was skilled enough. How?"
He was demanding an answer. Demanding she show her neck to the wolf and reveal all her secrets.
"Come here. I'll show you." Now she was really bluffing. With no water in sight, she had no hope of using her magic against him. As for physical combat, she could tell—she just knew—he'd make a chew toy of her and spit her out.
"Sassy," he said. “I like sassy.”
She wondered if he meant he liked to eat sassy.
"I denied Lessara's request, for now. I am bored, and I see that you may entertain me well enough for a time. So you get to keep your neck on those pretty little shoulders, as long as you're fun. How does that sound?"
She hated the way he was looking at her. Like she was a helpless rat and he, a playful cat. "Sounds like you're a megalomaniac deluded enough to think that I won't slit your throat and get back home before my next book club meeting."
Again, he laughed. "That might prove to be rather difficult."
On that note, the man—the Aos Si—walked away, toward the light.
She glared until he was out of her line of sight, but a movement to her right caught her attention. The wall opposite the door was moving. A panel slid away, giving her a window to the outside. There still was a transparent, vibrating energy wall between the outside and here, but she could see out now.
Her jaw fell open.
She'd been right. They were in a transport.
A transport advancing toward a flat land set on a cascade of golden fire. A strange world with seven circles of land and right at its center, a large blue tree with white leaves and flowers red as blood.
In the distance, she could see a large reddish-brown planet with black spots like a Dalmatian’s. It had four rings similar to Saturn’s around it.
That planet, she knew. She’d seen illustrations of it, and heard about it in her tutelage, many moons ago.
Unless she was much mistaken, the planet was Tartarus. And as for the world they were approaching at high speed…
Mel gulped. "Old man?"
"Aye."
"Tell me this isn't what I think it is."
"I can't read minds, child."
"Tell me we aren't in Sidhe."
She remembered enough from the legends to know that the Aos Si were supposed to have a world of their own. A world where the rules of nature she knew were inapplicable. Why were the waters gold? How the hell did gravity work in space? She doubted she'd be able to breathe there, let alone do anything else.
"Can't do that, love. It's most definitely Sidhe. I'd know. I was born here."
She definitely wasn't going to make it back for book club on Thursday.
A Strange Duel
Caim groaned, spitting blood. Damn, he'd forgotten how much a punch in the nose hurt.
His adversary was good. Good enough to warrant the use of iron forged blades. Caim glanced at R
ed, who'd been a perfect squire, although the job was far beneath him. He knew that just one sign and his friend would have his sword at the ready.
Then, he stilled.
The young, dark-haired man he fought against was dressed plainly. A simple cloth without reinforcement. His sword was cheap, too. A commoner, obviously. If Caim couldn't hold his own against him in a fair fight, with the same resources, then how could he hope to hold the Silver Circle?
If anything, it would be good practice before his fight with his cousin.
Caim grinned. "You're the first to make me sweat."
The young man stood in a defensive stance, his grip on his sword a little too tight to wield it well. He was anxious about fighting Caim, which meant he was wiser than some.
"What do they call you, knight?"
"I'm no knight," he replied. "And the name is Mael."
Caim nodded. He would remember him after it was over. "A little edgy, aren't you?" Caim paced around their ring, observing him.
He was fast and strong, but young, and therefore, inexperienced. Still, it wouldn’t do to underestimate him now he’d gotten one hit.
"Aye," Mael replied. "You weren't fighting seriously. Now that I got you, you will. And I want to keep my head on my shoulders."
Caim smiled. Definitely smart.
It would be a shame to waste a head like his. Or those skilled, fast, and precise limbs.
He moved with purpose, lunging to the left, his light sword hitting the air when Mael moved. Then, Caim kicked as he pivoted, hitting his shin, bringing him to his knees. A lesser man might have toppled. Mael rolled and leaped back on his feet on the other side of the circle marked in the sand, then he looked behind, careful not to step over it.
There were only three ways to lose this fight. One, yielding. Two, dying. The third was going over that line.
"What would you do with our circle if you won?" Caim asked.
"I'm not here to win," the man replied, before attacking.
His footwork was a thing of beauty. To be so light and fast he must have sylph blood in his veins.
