The Faerie Queen (The Faerie Ring #4)

by Kiki Hamilton

  “I know, I know.” Larkin closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder. “But I’m tired of playing this part. Of never being completely honest—of forcing Tara to dislike me at every turn so she will choose to help the Seelie cause—to believe she is the only one who cares enough to fight for them.” A small sob rose from her chest. “I’ve played it for so long I wonder how different I really am from Larkin? I feel that I’ve become her.”

  “Then you know beneath the arrogance and anger, she has a heart of gold. You have played her brilliantly, Breanna, and you have made Tara strong in a way she would never have been if you hadn’t forced her to choose. Adasara would be so proud of both of you. You’re just tired and worried. Stay the course a little longer and we will be free. I promise you.”

  “And what of Dain?” Larkin raised her head. “Fial, I fear he has fallen in love with Tara as well.” Her eyes glistened with tears, one leaving a trail down her cheek.

  The Jester smiled and ran a gentle finger beneath her eye. “Dain only thinks he loves Tara because he has yet to meet his own true love. He will find her one day, my dear, he will.”

  “And our baby? What of Clara?” Another tear ran down Larkin’s cheek as she choked out a sob. “I’ve missed so much with her. She loves Tara now—not me. If nothing else—she must survive—be protected. I couldn’t stand it if—” her voice broke in a sob.

  Fial cupped her face with both hands. “Breanna, you must be strong for just a while longer. We have been forced to live a lie for too long—you as Larkin and me as the Jester. But we are almost done. We have accomplished the impossible—we have kept the true-born queen alive until she reached an age where she could claim the throne. She is strong enough now to battle my brother and through your cleverness and sacrifice she has come to desire the same result as us—something that would never have happened if she had only been told of her destiny. We are so close—don’t give up now. We can win this war. Finally. Then we will once again find the life we gave up so long ago.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  As Donegal made his announcement Rieker moved lightning fast and wrapped his long arms around Tiki’s waist to stop her from running to Clara.

  “Let me go,” she cried. “I have to protect her.”

  “Think,” he whispered harshly. “You are glamoured as a Redcap. We can’t help her right now.” Tiki continued to struggle and Rieker tightened his grip. “We are outnumbered—” he said low in her ear— “with no weapons. If we die then Clara is left to face Donegal alone.”

  Tiki stopped struggling. Around them the crowd buzzed with excitement over the new captive.

  “Why would the Seelie queen care about a mortal child?” one woman whispered.

  “Who cares as long as we can get rid of her once and for all,” replied her companion. “She’s too powerful—to make the Stone cry out—that hasn’t happened in centuries. Best to get rid of her.”

  “I wonder what the mortal girl tastes like?” muttered another who looked like something that had climbed from a swamp.

  “What will you do with the child?” A brave soul called to Donegal as the Winter King made his way through the crowded rectangular-shaped room to where the Dragon Throne sat.

  “SHE WILL BE HELD HERE, ON DISPLAY IN THE GREAT HALL NEXT TO MY THRONE UNTIL THE SEELIE QUEEN IS DEAD.”

  “Listen to me.” Rieker whispered in Tiki’s ear. “We know where she is. We know she’s alive. Take a deep breath and let’s think.”

  Tiki dropped her hands but Rieker didn’t release his grip. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “You can let go now.”

  “Do you promise you won’t do anything foolish?”

  “Yes.”

  Rieker dropped his hands but he didn’t step back. “The first thing we need to do is change these glamours. Every UnSeelie we spoke to in that hallway will to be looking for us—not to mention anyone they told to meet the Redcaps at that fountain if they had news.”

  “I’m not taking my eyes off Clara.” Tiki’s tone brooked no argument. “Let’s get closer.” She latched on to Rieker’s bony wrist and pulled him forward, winding through the crowd.

  “The hag will be the first to come looking for us,” he warned. “If we are found here, in the midst of this many UnSeelie fey, we will not be able to defend ourselves.”

  Tiki led him across the room, working her way through the crowd to stand among the fringes. The net that held Clara had been positioned at the foot of the steps that led to the golden seat. They were close enough that Tiki could see the little girl’s pale blond hair as she sat hunched into a small ball within the golden web that held her.

  Clara’s head jerked in their direction and her blue eyes settled on Tiki. She stared for the longest time before her gaze shifted to Rieker.

  “She must be so frightened,” Tiki murmured to Rieker. “What must she be thinking, looking upon horrible creatures like us—bloody Redcaps—in a place like this?” Tiki longed to run to the child, to cut her free, to hold her close and tell her she would protect her—but Rieker was right. They needed a plan. They needed to make sure they could all get out alive and end this war with Donegal once and for all.

  “There they are!” The hag’s voice rose above the hum of conversation that filled the room. Tiki whirled around, a new fear filling her.

  “We’ve got to get out of here.” Rieker tugged Tiki sideways and pulled her toward the door.

  “But—” Tiki cried.

  “As soon as we’re in the hallway, change glamours,” he hissed.

  “Stop them!” The hag’s voice grew louder. “Those Redcaps—they were asking about the mortal child—”

  Tiki and Rieker dashed into a back hallway, ignoring the startled looks of the fey they passed.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?” A soldier called after them.

  “Just remembered an appointment,” Rieker called over his shoulder. “Not to worry.”

  “STOP THEM!” The hag shrieked like a banshee.

  In a delayed reaction the soldier yelled after them. “You two—HALT!”

  Rieker sprinted to the nearby door and yanked it open, pulling Tiki through behind him. He pushed the door shut as quietly as he could and slid the deadbolt home trying not to make any noise.

  “Change your glamour. Something inconspicuous.” Together, he and Tiki whispered the necessary words and moved their hands from forehead to knees as the smell of fresh clover filled the air. In an instant Rieker had changed into one of the myriad soldiers who guarded the Great Hall, wearing the same black tunic, a silver sword curved at his side.

  Tiki, on the other hand, had become a beautiful woman with long hair the fiery red of a flame. She was elegant and seductive, alluring and dangerous.

  Rieker’s eyes widened. “That’s inconspicuous?”

  “I am a leanan sidhe—La Belle Dame sans Merci of Keats’ poem—the muse of mortals and knights who are destined to die young.” Her eyes grew flint-hard. “I don’t want to be inconspicuous. I want Donegal’s attention on me the entire time you are freeing Clara.”

  THEY WASTED LITTLE time in the room. The walls that stretched high above their heads were hung with banner upon banner of silk—some decorated with crowned lions barring the talons of eagles, others bore ravens that flew before the full moon. Some were elaborate wings that appeared to be dripping blood—while others bore harps and five-pointed stars.

  “What are those?” Tiki pointed. “They remind me of the flag that the Jester used to anoint you as a Lord in the High Chamber.”

  Rieker glanced up. “I don’t care if they’re the bloody Union Jack. It doesn’t have anything to do with us.” He pulled the door open and they strolled back into the hallway as if he were one of the myriad guards patrolling the palace. The corridor was crowded as guards and guests both hurried up and down the long hallway looking for the Redcaps.

  “Keep an eye out there,” a guard dressed in an identical outfit shouted at Rieker as he hurried
past. Rieker snapped off a salute and followed Tiki around one of the towering columns back into the Great Hall. The room was still crowded as news had spread of Donegal’s captive.

  Tiki’s arrival did not go unnoticed and heads turned as she entered. She lifted her chin, feigning confidence. She didn’t know how she was going to free Clara and stop Donegal, but she would die trying.

  The Winter King’s inner circle—Sullivan, Cruinn and Scáthach—had appeared and were huddled around the throne. Donegal was deep in conversation with them as she and Rieker drew near the golden net that held Clara. Two guards were posted on either side of the giant platform that held the child, their faces stone-like, long spear-tipped staffs clutched in one hand, the other resting on the hilt of their long silver swords. The guard closest to Tiki glanced at her as she approached.

  It was all Tiki could do not to cry out when she recognized Dain’s blue eyes. His face remained expressionless though and she realized he couldn’t see through her glamour as she could see through his.

  While Dain looked at her, Tiki fingered the chain that hung around her neck and pulled the ring of Ériu free. Recognition flickered in his eyes and his gaze darted back to her face. He gave a slight nod of his head. Convinced he understood her message, Tiki tucked the ring safely back under her garments and nudged Rieker. At his questioning glance she nodded at Dain and mouthed his name. Rieker’s gaze shifted to his glamoured brother and the two cautiously eyed each other. Tiki started to turn toward the net trap when a low growl rumbled from behind Donegal’s throne.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Tiki turned as the first hound charged. Jaws snapping, fanged-teeth barred, the giant black dog exploded from behind Donegal’s throne headed straight for Tiki. Screams ripped the air as people rushed to get out of the way.

  She didn’t have time to think—only react. Fire flew from her fingertips. The dog dropped dead at Tiki’s feet, a tendril of smoke curling from the black, charred hole in its chest. Tiki braced herself, expecting the second dog to charge next but the black hound remained partially hidden behind the throne, her eyes intent upon Tiki.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Donegal roared, staring at the dead dog in disbelief. His gaze shifted to Tiki. Of Donegal’s three generals, Sullivan was the biggest. He had immense shoulders, a square head and a nose that spread across his face like a mushroom. He was the first to move.

  “Name yourself,” he growled, making Tiki wonder if he could communicate with the hellhounds in their own language. More guards gathered, weapons held at the ready.

  Tiki looked down her nose at the man. “Is this how you treat your visitors to Court?” She snapped her fingers at the other dog. “Take that one away too, before he decides to attack the King.”

  “How dare you—” Sullivan started toward Tiki but Donegal stopped him.

  “Sullivan,” Donegal barked. “Mind your manners.” The Winter King slid to the edge of his seat, his beady black eyes locked on Tiki. “Who are you?”

  With a careless gesture, Tiki flicked a flame red strand of hair over her shoulder. “I am Simone, of course. I’ve come from London to watch the capture of the Seelie queen.” She looked around then raised an eyebrow at Donegal. “Unless I’ve miss the fun? Have you murdered her already?”

  “If only I had,” Donegal murmured, sliding from the throne. He approached Tiki, keeping the damaged side of his face turned away, curiosity burning in his bottomless eyes. “I’ve not had the pleasure of your acquaintance, madam. Pray tell me your history. If you are here at this time of year then you must have UnSeelie blood yet you say you’ve traveled from London? Any fey who crosses over to the mortal world is braver than most.”

  “Much braver,” Tiki agreed as she forced herself to smile at the horribly disfigured man, “but I enjoy the risk.”

  Donegal threw his head back and laughed. “You remind me of an old friend of mine. Or perhaps I should call Larkin my adversary. Regardless, she amuses me. I sense you might, too.”

  The guards who surrounded the Winter King watched the exchange with undisguised interest.

  “How fascinating.” Tiki’s mind raced as she swept her gown to the side and began to walk away from the golden net that held Clara. Could she draw Donegal and his guards far enough away that Rieker could cut Clara free without being noticed?

  Donegal fell into step beside her. “Tell me about yourself.”

  “It’s not obvious when you gaze upon my face?” Tiki cocked her head in a pose. “It seems I inspire certain mortals. I am the muse to whom they will gladly pledge their lives in exchange for the artistic brilliance my love brings—” she grinned, revealing suddenly fanged teeth— “short though it may be.”

  “Ah, I see,” Donegal nodded with sudden understanding. “Your price is steep.”

  Tiki resumed walking, leading him away from the net that held Clara. “As is anything of value.”

  “Why have I not seen you at Court before?” Donegal walked with her, his guards trailing in a wave, keeping a discreet distance. “I surely would have remembered someone as lovely and remarkable as you.”

  Tiki crossed her arms and feigned a pout. “I have been here before but you only had eyes for your friend, Larkin.”

  Donegal tilted his head back and laughed. “What you say is true. Larkin can be mesmerizing.”

  Tiki made a scoffing noise. “She may be beautiful, but I’m still not sure if she claims to be Seelie or UnSeelie. The only thing I do know is that she seems inordinately fond of the color gold.”

  Donegal laughed out loud. “That’s because she thinks she should be queen.”

  A few instruments plucked discordant notes until music of sorts flowed through the room again. Tiki led Donegal out through the grand doors of the palace and came to a stop on the steps overlooking the Night Garden. As darkness had descended, the glow of the beautiful luminescent blooms lit the night with color. She stopped in a place where they could still be seen by the occupants of the Great Hall so Rieker and Dain would know Donegal’s location. She desperately wanted to look over her shoulder and check on Clara but she didn’t dare.

  “Tell me the truth,” Tiki said, in an effort to keep the UnSeelie king distracted. “What breed is Larkin? Seelie or UnSeelie?”

  Donegal clasped his hands behind his back and gazed out over the dark, twisted maze of brambles and thorns. A storm brewed overhead, the murky clouds swirling in great gusts. In his black robe and with his black hair the Winter King blended with the night. The only spot of color was the gold circlet that sat upon his head, reflecting the flames of nearby torches. His voice was thoughtful when he spoke.

  “Larkin is as mercurial as a flicker of moonlight, as clever as the Court Fool and as untrustworthy as a mortal. For a long time I believed she was committed to the UnSeelie Court—partly from her love of power, partly from jealousy of her sister and in a large part due to her anger at Finn and Eridanus.”

  Tiki glanced at Donegal from the corners of her eyes. He spoke as if knew Larkin so well. Did he? What exactly was their relationship?

  Donegal shook his head. “But none of it matters anymore. Her sister is long dead and if Larkin were truly UnSeelie then we would have destroyed the Seelie Court and ruled Faerie together.” He heaved a sigh. “But instead, now she taunts me and spies on my Court with my brother, of all people.” He scowled. “I should have killed her when I had the chance.”

  Tiki drew the folds of her gown close over her chest, suddenly chilled. “Why didn’t you?”

  “That’s a good question.” He reached out lightning fast and grabbed Tiki’s arm, his grip like a vise. His voice changed to a deadly murmur. “But a better question is how does a leanan sidhe throw a lightning bolt strong enough to kill a hellhound?” He brought his face so close to hers Tiki could smell his putrid breath and see the pock-marks on his skin. She tried not to look at the side of his face where the skin had melted when the liche had burned to death but it was hard not to stare at the twisted and
mangled flesh. Behind them a ripple went through the guards as they reacted to his movement and gripped their weapons tighter. Several moved in their direction.

  Tiki stepped back and tried to pull her arm free. “You’re hurting me.”

  Instead of releasing her, Donegal tightened his grip, examining Tiki’s features as though trying to see through a shrouded window. “I know of only one person who can control the weather like that—and I won’t lose you this time,” he said softly. “GUARDS!” he shouted. “SEIZE HER!”

  Tiki tried again to yank her arm away but Donegal’s fingers were firmly clamped around her thin wrist. The guards rushed toward them, weapons drawn, faces set to attack. Tiki exhaled and visualized her destination. A heartbeat before the first blade was about to pierce her skin—with Donegal still clutching her wrist—the Palace of Mirrors shimmered from view.

  But they didn’t arrive at the destination that Tiki had envisioned. Instead when the world shimmered back into view they were still standing outside the Palace of Mirrors—only a short distance from the guards who had been ordered to seize her.

  “I am the UnSeelie KING,” Donegal roared in Tiki’s face. “You will not transport me against my wishes.”

  “And I am the Queen of the Seelie Court—” Tiki hissed— “You will not steal from me.” With a smooth sweep of her hand she removed her glamour and pulled a knife from inside her boot where it was tucked. She stabbed directly at Donegal’s face but he ducked at the last second. The blade struck him on the shoulder, slipping through his garment and into this skin with surprising ease.