The Mating Ritual: Werewolves of Montana Book 9

by Bonnie Vanak

  Impossible.

  “How did you do that?” Mara demanded.

  A pink flush tinted Alia’s cheeks. “Perhaps I gained a little of Gideon’s dark magick when we consummated our marriage.”

  Perhaps. But he doubted his Dark Fae magick was that powerful. The greater threat still lingered, for after seeing the fungus in the town, he knew it would not take long to spread.

  “Where will you both go from here?” Gideon looked at the rose and pink hues dusting the sky near the mountains. Twilight was descending fast.

  “There is a shelter near here where we stay.” Patrick squinted at the setting sun. “You’ll never make it back on time. The roads are too dangerous, even if you have swift steeds and a good carriage.”

  “We’re not going by carriage,” Alia said serenely.

  Gideon whistled loudly and the two raptors that had flown them to Cantabria appeared in the sky. The eagles landed, and he and Alia climbed onto their backs, bidding goodbye to Mara and Patrick.

  As they rode the eagles back to their home in the Summer Kingdom, Gideon looked down and saw the white fungus covering the town. When they cleared the town, he let out a breath of relief.

  Soon, when they went to the Winter Kingdom, he’d seek more answers from the Unseelie king.

  8

  Two nights before they were to journey to the Winter Kingdom in their first visit as husband and wife, King Oren invited them to a banquet.

  She hated these formal dinners. Alia would have been blissful preparing a simple meal at home instead of sitting at the long table, her rear sore from the hard wood seat.

  It was a splendid repast, but she might as well have eaten dirt. Tension knotted her stomach. She had three days until she must kill Gideon and help start a war that would free her people.

  But was war the answer? Before her marriage, she’d seen the bloodshed as necessary for eradicating a feudal system gone awry. Now she was not certain.

  The thought of taking a blade and stabbing her husband filled her with grief. Yet if she did not, Alyssa would be sold into slavery, and her little sister would die, for she was too fragile.

  Then there was the odd matter of her magick in the neutral territory. Her magick had always been flickering, like candlelight. Now it seemed to grow as much as an inferno, and she could feel it inside, pushing to be freed.

  Only when she made love with Gideon did she feel the magick ease a little, as if she shared more than her body with her husband.

  Gazing around the table, she studied the various nobles. Many wore heavy silver chains with crystal ball pendants the size of a marble. Alia studied the jewelry and her shoulders sagged with relief.

  Finally, a solution to killing Gideon. The crystal ball would protect him. She would give him one tomorrow.

  Waiting until the king’s attention was engaged elsewhere, she politely excused herself to visit the restroom, and then scurried outside to the royal forgery. The smithy in charge was an old friend, and promised to have the necklace delivered to her by dawn tomorrow.

  Upon her return to the table, Alia tried to focus on the meal and the polite small talk made by the ten fairies and ten Fae who were her ladies-in-waiting at court. After they served dessert and Oren seemed to be restless, Gideon stood and sketched a polite bow to the king.

  Sitting where she was, she could not hear his words, but reasoned he gained permission to leave. Gideon walked down the length of the table to pause beside her. Alia’s skin tingled with very female awareness. Gideon was all hardness and male heat, skin stretched tight over pure muscle. With arrogant assurance she would obey, he held out his hand to her.

  For a moment, she was tempted to ignore it. Let him know he was not her master.

  “Come, Lady Alia.”

  “The night is still young.” She sipped her wine.

  He took the glass from her hand and set it down. Then he whispered into her ear. “I need to leave this foul place and return home to make love with my sweet wife.”

  Gideon’s voice was pure music, a gentle brush of deep notes, his words arousing her.

  A sharp, almost unbearable ache hurt her chest. She must never let him realize he held that kind of power over her.

  Why could you not be a right bastard? Ridicule me, flaunt your power over me before the others, and beat me as the other lords do to their wives? Then I could sink my dagger into you without guilt.

  Alia pushed back her chair and took Gideon’s hand. She inclined her head in respect to the king, wishing her other hand held a dagger to throw at his dead, blackened heart.

  Gideon said nothing as they walked to the outer courtyard. Servants brought out their horses. Once outside the castle, Alia breathed in the fresh air. The atmosphere inside the palace was thick with sultry oppression. She’d noticed it more and more time she spent outside her father’s court.

  Clouds scudded across the night sky, blotting out the moonlight and the cold, glittering stars as they rode home.

  Suddenly Gideon brought his horse to a stop.

  She did as well and turned to him. “What is it?”

  Tilting his head, he seemed to listen to something riding the night wind. “A faint cry. Do you hear it?”

  She heard nothing but the sigh of the breeze rustling through the leaves and tree limbs.

  “A child in distress.” Gideon pointed to the houses nestled on the edge of the misty forest. The homes served as the quarters of the lesser Fae who served the nobles who circulated on the court’s outer fringes.

  They reached there in minutes and dismounted and then went on foot. At the second stone house, silent and dark, Gideon paused. He withdrew the dagger at the sheath belted to his waist. “Remain here.”

  “Not if there is a child in distress.” Alia went to the door, listened. “You’ll scare him.”

  Gideon splayed a palm against the scarred wood of the door. “Who lives here?”

  “Her name is Sorcha. She is a scullery maid in the kitchen. I have not seen her in a few days.”

  Real fear skidded along her spine. Sorcha had only last month attracted the unwanted attentions of a powerful nobleman who found favor with King Oren. Alia had planned to shuttle her away before the noble could make her into his mistress, but Sorcha was loath to leave the castle grounds for the unknown.

  Gideon must not know of her secret network of aid stretching across the kingdom to hide Fae women in distress.

  They opened the door and walked inside.

  Dark as pitch, the interior smelled dank and rotting with misuse. Gideon released a sharp breath and hurried to the corner.

  She blinked hard, and threw open a shutter to allow in moonbeams. And then she saw what he did, and a blade sank into her heart.

  “Theo,” she whispered. “Oh goddess, sweetie, how long have you been here?”

  The child crouching in the corner like a frightened, wild animal, did not respond. Black hair cut short, she shivered as she squeezed himself against the wall, as if trying to become invisible.

  Gideon squatted and held out a hand. “Come, Theo. I will not hurt you.”

  “His real name is Theodosia. He is a girl, Sorcha’s daughter.” Alia joined Gideon, stretching out her hand. “It’s all right, sweetheart.”

  Even her gentlest tone could not tear the child from the safety of the corner. Gideon’s mouth flattened. “Why the disguise?”

  “Boy Fae are more precious and more likely to live than girls. Sorcha cut her hair, disguised her as a boy when the last roundup of children took place.” She let her hand drop, sensing the child was too terrified to view her as anything but a threat. “The slave trade bustles in the Summer Kingdom.”

  Gideon’s jaw tightened as the azure of his eyes darkened to midnight. “The slave trade has been banned since the peace treaty between the two kingdoms.”

  “Perhaps in your kingdom, but not here. Oren allowed it last year for girls only. They are rounded up and sold to be used for sexual pleasure.”

  She co
uld feel his anger, sharp as a honed blade. He drew in a breath and spoke in a soft, reassuring tone to the terrified child.

  “Where is your mother, Theo?” Gideon asked gently.

  “Gone.” The child pointed upward. “Taken by the Sidhe spirits three days ago.”

  Understanding flashed across Gideon’s face. His gaze went distant, as if searching his memory. “She died of a fever she was too weak to fight off.”

  How did he know this? Alia came closer and coaxed Theo into her arms. The child snuggled there, her clothing tattered, her face unwashed and smeared with dirt and tears.

  “We’ll take you someplace safe, where you can eat and find rest,” she promised.

  Gideon found a lantern and lit it. Soft light flooded the small room, showing the prominent hollows on Theo’s cheeks, her fascinated gaze as she stared at Gideon.

  “Wizard,” Theo whispered, pointing to him.

  He swept the girl into his strong arms. “No. Tickle monster.”

  Theo gurgled with bright laughter as Gideon played his fingers across the child’s protruding ribs. He cherished girls, unlike her father, who would see them ruined and discarded like trash.

  “Sorcha has a sister, Hannah, who lives in town. She will take care of Theo and continue to hide her real identity,” Alia told him as they left the cottage.

  Gideon helped her up onto her horse and then handed her the girl. “It’s no way to live. I’ll give her money to aid with food and supplies.”

  A terrible shadow had draped over this kingdom, and Gideon suspected it grew each day. Alia held tight to Theo, singing softly to calm the child. His wife had a good, kind heart.

  No matter what the cost, he had to find the source of this darkness and eliminate it before it destroyed others. Too many had already paid the price. Alia would not fall victim to it.

  A little of his Crimson Wizard powers were returning. He could divine the past, and how an individual had died. Yet his ability to create pure, white energy remained dormant.

  They rode into the nearby town. Despite the early hour, few Fae were in the streets. Most had learned to retire early and lock their doors when it was a bright, clear night and the castle nobles roamed, looking for young girls to ravish.

  They easily found Hannah’s house. She held tight to Theo and sobbed when they told her about Sorcha’s death. Then she bade her oldest girl to take the child, bathe her and feed her.

  Gideon unhooked a pouch of gold coins he always carried with him. He handed it to the woman. “This will help with her care.”

  The Fae’s eyes widened and the pointed tips of her ears reddened. “Oh sire, it’s too much! We can care for her.”

  “I know you can,” he said gently. “I’m trusting you will care well for her and anyone else in the village who has great need.”

  Understanding dawned in the Fae’s dark eyes. “Thank you, sire. You are so kind. Not like the others in the palace. Except for Lady Alia here. She is the only one who cares about the common folk.”

  When they left, it was long past midnight. Gideon felt a pressing anxiousness to return to their cottage and get the hell out of the woods flanking them on either side. A heavy oppressiveness tainted this land, and it worsened at night.

  They came to a fork in the road, and took the left branch which led to their house near the palace.

  After only a few minutes, Alia’s horse, Firefax, seemed restless. Gideon frowned as Alia spoke in a soothing tone to her mare. Firefax was a pretty, spirited horse, but during the rides, she’d always been calm. Jax, the big stallion he rode, was more difficult to control.

  Then suddenly Jax whinnied, and reared up. Had he not been so alert, Gideon would have been thrown.

  Sending tendrils of calming dark Fae magick to his horse, Gideon slid off and dropped the reins. He went to Firefax, whose eyes rolled back as she whinnied in obvious distress. After calming Firefax with the same magick, he helped Alia dismount.

  “Something bad is in there.” Alia pointed to the Mystic Forest, her face distressed. “I don’t know what, but it’s evil.”

  Her voice dropped to a bare whisper. “This section of forest has always spooked me, but these past few months, there is a miasma of evil here. The villagers seldom venture this way past sunset.”

  Silvery moonlight dappled the thick elms and oaks in the forest. Gideon listened. No night sounds of frogs, or insects. Not even the hoot of an owl. The woods seemed deadly quiet, shadowed with something very wrong.

  His nostrils flared as he picked up a very faint odor. Blood. Acid. Scents of decay and bleached bones.

  Noticing a path cutting through the woods, he started for it. “Stay here. Someone may be in distress.”

  Barely had he started into the woods when Alia scurried to catch up to him. “I’m coming with you. This is my kingdom.”

  Stubborn woman. But better she accompany him, lest whatever darkness covered this land decided to rise up and take a big bite out of her.

  They didn’t have far to walk. Ten minutes later, the metallic stench overwhelmed his senses as they came upon the slick crimson trail.

  The odor hit him like a powerful slap. Though he had smelled it too many previous times, it never failed to churn his stomach.

  She lay on her back in a small clearing near a pine tree, beside a fallen log. Gideon suspected the woman had been quite pretty once. Now she was shrunken, skin falling into bone, her eyes staring sightlessly at the sky. Blood dripped from every exposed inch of her skin. She looked bathed in red paint. The slick, coppery smell nauseated him and Alia looked as if she needed to retch.

  “Do you know her?” he asked Alia.

  “Maeve.” Alia’s fists tightened on her skirts. She’d lifted them to avoid stepping in the pools of blood. “She once danced and sang at court. She even gave me my first real pet, a dragonfly with wings of peacock blue and green. Who did this?”

  “I doubt anyone killed her.”

  A slim glass vial lay near the bone-thin fingers. Gideon squatted and picked up the abandoned glass vial, careful not to let the droplets of lilac liquid inside touch his skin.

  He inhaled the vial, and his nose went numb. Damn. He knew this, but it was far more powerful than the usual elixir.

  “What is it?”

  “Stay away,” he snapped. Goddess, last thing he needed was Alia coming into contact with this.

  Blood drained from her face. He’d never yelled at her. No regrets here. He’d apologize for his harsh tone later, when they were alone and she was safe.

  Fear and worry for her flooded him. Such novel emotions, ones he had not felt in a very long time. He forced himself to speak slowly and calmly. “Alia, I need you to return to the horses and stay there. I’ll send a squadron of fairies to remain with you.”

  “I can send for the fairies who are my ladies in waiting.”

  “The fairies I’m sending have fangs that drip poison, not fairies that indulge in dancing and playing music.”

  She bit her lip. “Fine. What killed her?”

  “Something that will kill you if you touch it. Go!”

  Gideon needed the aid of his fellow wizards. But they were forbidden to him. He considered. Nikita, Tristan’s mate, was not. Nor was Ciara, Xavier’s new wife.

  When Alia left, he mentally summoned Ariel. “I need at least twenty of your fairies to remain with Alia by the horses on the road where it forks by the Mystic Forest. After you guide them there, go to Tir na-Nog. Find Nikita and get a pouch suitable for transporting dangerous toxins. Tell her to have Xavier ready to examine what you will bring her. Then find me.”

  “How can I find you, sire?”

  “Follow the scent of blood and death.”

  When the fairy appeared, bearing a black velvet bag, Ariel landed on the ground a good distance from the body. A pink glow surrounded her.

  “Sire, look.”

  Against the soft glow of her fairy light, a darkness pushed hard, like a hand trying to reach Ariel and taint her.<
br />
  “It’s spreading,” he muttered.

  She looked worried. “Will it affect you?”

  “I’m still immortal, far as I know. I am concerned about Alia.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about her.” Something odd tinged the fairy’s voice, as if she knew something. But he had no time for games.

  Gideon opened the velvet pouch Ariel handed him, glad that Nikita had lined it with magick, and dropped the vial inside. Gideon pulled the strings tight and gave it back. “Take this to Xavier, get him started working on a cure. Do not give it to his wife, Ciara. She is too young of an immortal to get near it. Tell him to use extreme caution. The drug is potent.” He held out his hands. “Before you go, sterilize my hands. I will take no chances.”

  Ariel hesitated and then flung a beam of pure white energy at his hands. Burning pain encased his flesh. Gideon gritted his teeth. A minute later, the pain lessened, leaving his hands red and raw.

  Ariel used her fairy flame to burn the body and the ground around it and then flew away.

  Gideon ran to the dirt path where he’d left the horses. Alia paced back and forth, the squad of doll-sized fairies guarding her wreathing her in a protective circle.

  He spoke to them in the Old Language of Fae, thanking them and ordering them to accompany them back. Then he lifted Alia onto Firefax’s back and leapt up behind her. Not until he and Alia were inside the house did Gideon allow himself to relax the slightest.

  He pulled the thick drapes shut, and then checked every window. Alia sat on the sofa, watching with wide eyes, saying nothing. She had gone very quiet.

  Finally he went into the kitchen, fetched two cool glasses of water and handed her one.

  She looked at the glass. “I’m not thirsty.”

  “Drink it.”

  A fierce frown knit her silky black brows, but she did as he requested. Gideon drank until the glass was empty. When she’d emptied hers, he set both glasses on the wood table before the sofa.

  “The water is a precaution, to flush out your system in case you accidentally came into contact with it.”