Riftkeepers: Reckoning

by Carrie Whitethorne

“It’s almost dawn,” Charlotte mused, stopping to look at the sky.

  Callan spun her into his arms, kissing her softly. “Can I take you home?”

  “You can take me anywhere you like,” she crooned, biting her lip.

  His low chuckle rumbled against her throat as he lowered her to their bed. “I do like this dress,” he murmured, running his tongue from the hollow of her throat down her chest.

  “I love you,” she said, combing her fingers through his hair as he kissed back up to find her mouth. There was no heat, no raw passion in his kiss; only love. Deep, unending love. She drank it in, responding and reciprocating, all the words that had gone unspoken passing between them, not said or heard, but felt.

  He moved her to the edge of the bed and unfastened the hooks at the back of her dress. His fingertips brushing down her arms, he encouraged her to stand and slid the garment to the floor. He remained behind her, hands resting on her hips, kissing her shoulder, down her back, to the dip at the base of her spine. Every tiny touch causing her to shiver, he turned her slowly before him.

  Facing him, she stepped forward and bent to kiss him. Sliding her hands down, opening his shirt, pushing it back over his shoulders and down his arms. His bare skin against hers, she sucked in a breath as her skin brushed the fine hair on his chest. His arms circled her waist and he tugged her closer, lowering her to the bed, eyes never leaving hers. “I love you, too” he breathed, running a finger along the curve of her waist and up to circle her breast. His lips replaced his finger, slowly trailing down her body, down to the band of her underwear and lower still until she groaned. He ripped her underwear at her hips, flicking the fabric away, and resumed his exploration. She didn’t try to stifle her moan as he took her with his mouth.

  Hands buried in his hair, she melted at his touch. Again and again she crashed into pools of shuddering pleasure, trembling, until she cried out for him to stop, gasping for breath.

  The morning light streamed through the window, brightening his eyes to a gleaming sapphire blue and as she gazed into their pooling depths. He kissed her, moving his body over hers, and eased himself inside and slowly began to move. With firm, even thrusts, he nudged her towards another release, his eyes never breaking from hers.

  He took his time drawing out her pleasure. She needed to touch him, her fingers tracing the hard outlines of his muscles as she stroked his back, his arms, his chest.

  Callan eclipsed her, his eyes held her, his smell surrounded her, his hair brushed her face and he filled her in every sense as he gradually, rhythmically pulled her closer to her limit, inching closer to his own. She pushed his shoulder gently and as his eyes asked the question, she nodded her head. He pulled her with him as he turned, switching position, and she slid onto the firm length of him, joining them again. His hands skimming the curves of her body, he watched as she moved on him. Her pace quickened with her building climax, her nails digging into his chest as her head tilted back. With a gasp of exhilaration, she pulsed around him, her body tensed, the sensation taking Callan with her.

  She lay limp in his arms for a long while afterwards, their legs entwined. He stroked her hair as he studied her face, the smallest hint of a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked in barely more than a whisper.

  “I’m thinking that I’m the luckiest man alive.”

  “I’m the lucky one,” she whispered, turning in his arms and kissing his chest. She refused to let her heart break. She refused to allow the tears to fall.

  I am lucky. We both are. All these years later, we’re together like this, the morning after Beltane. Everything was against us and we still made it. Nothing can break this. Nothing.

  Twenty- six

  They didn’t leave their suite until the following evening. After eating with the family, they decided to spend the night at the palace since they were to attend Taran’s council meeting the following morning.

  Charlotte woke early, anxiety tugging her from sleep, and crept from the bedroom. Curling on the sofa with a hot drink, she allowed her mind to wander.

  Why does Markus want me with him and Taran later? Surely positioning around a table doesn’t mean anything? If it does, it should be the princes with the kings, not me.

  And how is antagonising Arthur going to help? He hates me! As does Byron, after our last meeting. Jesus, I had them pinned down and their minds searched. They’ll never forgive me that.

  Suppose it was a question of security though. And if Byron is stupid enough to have his head taken over. Like I was…

  But I knew I wasn’t right. Could he have been working with her? No, Dane would have seen it.

  So many unanswered questions and I daren’t ask any of them.

  Sighing, she took her empty mug into the kitchen and prepared for breakfast, setting the table, laying out bread, honey, jam, and butter. Creeping into the bedroom, she went to shower.

  “You’re up early,” Callan said from the doorway as she wrapped her hair in a towel.

  “Yeah. Everything’s ready for breakfast. Just tea to make,” she said, patting her bracelet dry. “I should remember to take this off. It’ll tarnish if I’m not careful.”

  “No, it won’t. It’s faerie silver, and you were told not to remove it,” he said, holding her hand up to study it.

  “Why was I told not to remove it?” she asked, looking at the glinting stone through the gaps in the filigree ball that housed it.

  “It’s believed that moonstone will help you find love. Or reunite separated lovers,” he explained, admiring the ball. “It was probably just her way of giving us her blessing, but I won’t disrespect her wishes.”

  She smiled at the thoughtful gesture. “Bless her. Do you think she’s okay up there all on her own?”

  “She’s always lived there,” he said dismissively. “Just her and Ezra. Being around people was difficult with her visions. She saw their futures whether she wished to or not. She could probably do with someone keeping an eye on her now she’s so frail, but she won’t have it.”

  She lowered her arm and said, “Well, that doesn’t stop someone calling in and checking, does it? No need to stay for a chat. Just making sure she has everything she needs and fetching anything required would do.”

  “I’ll add it to my list of duties,” he promised, kissing her forehead.

  “What are you smiling at?” she asked, adjusting her towel self-consciously.

  “Nothing,” he laughed. “I just love how you always think of other people, despite what’s going on with you.”

  “I have a soft spot for older folk,” she said, heading for the door. “It’s what I did before I came here. Hard to switch it off.”

  He watched her leave the bathroom, flicking the shower on as she closed the door.

  Markus looked far too relaxed. She’d never seen him lounge on a sofa before and it seemed out of character.

  “Drink the brandy, Charlotte,” he ordered, glancing at the clock.

  The glass trembled in her hand as she brought it to her lips, draining it in two large gulps. Dane gave her a surprised look. “Why are you so nervous?”

  “Because,” she rasped, wincing as the brandy seared her throat, “I’m attending a Seelie court meeting as the Un-Seelie pet poodle. And Arthur hates me.” She frowned and added, “And we’re going to be late. I’m never late to anything!”

  Markus clicked his tongue. “Very well. They’ll be seated by now. May I?” He straightened his suit, ran a hand over his hair, and drained his glass before offering her his arm.

  Facing the beautiful silver doors to the council chamber, Charlotte took a steadying breath as Markus turned to her.

  “Straighten that,” he said curtly as he pressed his hand into her lower back and pushed her shoulder back. “And keep this up,” he added, bringing his hand up and raising her chin with a finger. “You’re a member of my council and you will present yourself as such.”

  She shook her head, jaw
set in annoyance as Dane chuckled beside her. “Play the game, Lottie.”

  Markus leaned in, kissed her cheek, and nodded to the guard to open the doors.

  The king and his firstborn son strode into the chamber with purpose. Charlotte, steeling herself, followed two paces behind in the posture Markus had set, eyes scanning the room.

  “Taran, my apologies,” Markus breezed, inclining his head as he approached the large, polished table.

  Dane fell back, allowing Charlotte to walk by, then took the seat beside Callan. She kept pace just behind Markus to the head of the table. There were several, quiet murmurs as she reached her seat; Markus dutifully pulling it back for her and inviting her to sit.

  She gave him a warm smile of thanks, then Markus took his place on her left. Taran remained standing and she looked around the table.

  Dagda grinned at her, a hint of expectation gleaming in his eyes. Dane had pasted his familiar, ostentatious smirk across his lips and Callan eyed each of the council members in turn, looking tense.

  I’m fine, Callan.

  She barely noticed the nod he gave her. Byron was suitably uncomfortable, several other lords avoided her gaze, and Arthur appeared to simmer with quiet rage. Placing her hands on the table, she cocked her head and studied him for a moment before sitting back in her seat and folding her hands on her lap.

  “Thank you all for attending,” Taran began. “We are here to update you on recent events at Houska. As you are all aware, Princess Nyja of Houska is wanted for treason.”

  Murmurs sprang up among the gathered lords. Taran cleared his throat and continued. “She has taken on the powers of the warlock and continues to elude capture. She also slaughtered a village of Druids in the past week. Houska expects an attack in the very near future.”

  A deep, familiarly grating voice drew her attention.

  “The family matters of the Un-Seelie court are of no concern to us, Taran,” Arthur said coolly. He hadn’t bothered to stand as he addressed his king. He barely managed to keep the contempt for Markus and his court from his tone. “Let Petr handle his wayward daughter.”

  “She killed Petr when she killed the warlock, Arthur,” Charlotte said lightly, her voice carrying in ringing echoes. “Just as she will kill you, should her followers force their way into Avalon.”

  Arthur laughed, slapping a hand down on the table. “You, child, know nothing of our fortifications. Avalon is impenetrable.” He studied her for a moment and she met his bitter gaze with a raised brow. “Remind me, Princess; which family, which court do you serve?”

  “I’m sorry, Arthur, I don’t understand the question,” she replied, fiddling with her pendant. “I’m a member of Taran’s family and the Un-Seelie council, both. I serve neither.”

  Arthur sneered at her. “You impudent—”

  She rose, both hands braced on the table and allowed the simmering rage she concealed loose. Glasses and jugs shattered, water spreading across the table top, cutting Arthur off mid insult. His eyes widened, but he managed to keep his mouth firmly closed.

  “I, Arthur, am the greatest weapon your people have against Princess Nyja. Only I match her in power and ability. Without me, Houska will fall,” she said firmly. “When she has the portal, her army will be sent here and you will be slaughtered like the families in that village just days ago. She can summon Daeva. She’s already built an army to help her take her throne. Imagine if she had limitless access to the horrors within the rift.” She gestured to the three princes opposite. “They will face her,” she announced, then flicked up her chin and asked, “but I wonder what will you do. Cower here in Avalon?”.

  He didn’t respond, his sour expression speaking volumes.

  She could hear Markus chuckling at her side. “Markus has taken in every Druid in the Czech Republic to keep them safe. Your princes are battle ready to fight for your worthless life. Your king is prepared to sacrifice his bloodline for you, and you have the front to sit there and speak to me with such disrespect?” Her voice remained calm, her silvery tone striking more fear into the gathered lords than her display of power had.

  She held Arthur in a cold, dead stare for a long moment before Markus said, “Well, Arthur, the impudent wretch asked you a question.” His lips curled up at one side, goading the lord into another explosive response. Arthur ignored him, defiantly holding Charlotte’s gaze as he seethed.

  She made the mistake of glancing to Callan. With lightning speed, Arthur took advantage of her apparent loss of concentration and drew a dagger. He threw it across the table, the blade aimed directly at Charlotte’s chest. The council gasped in unison, believing she’d been struck, but Charlotte simply smiled, her shadow shield catching the glinting weapon and lowering it into her palm.

  Callan began to rise. “No one move; I’m fine,” she said passively, leaving her place at the table and walking around to Arthur. Stopping at his seat, she leaned around and slammed the blade onto the table in front of him. “You, however,” she growled, her mouth inches from his ear, “are guilty of treason. I’ll let my family deal with that.”

  Arthur paled and she walked away, leaving him to squirm under Callan’s icy glare. No one dared move as she returned to her seat between the faerie kings.

  “Shall we continue? Or have we more vipers among us who wish to strike the princess?” Markus drawled.

  Check their minds. All of them.

  You check them, Markus. You know what you’re looking for.

  Subtly check for traitors, Charlotte. It’s your duty.

  Taran began explaining the plans in the event of an attack on Houska, each council member focused on his every word for fear of drawing her attention. Their focus elsewhere allowed her to creep inside and rifle through their minds. Every one of them had made the decision to follow her. All except Byron, who was so muddled with terror that she was amazed he could listen to Taran at all.

  None are a threat, Markus. Not even him now. Coward. Look at him, staring at that dagger like it’s going to jump up and stab him in the eye.

  She fought to mask a giggle as she considered reaching out with her shadow and moving the dagger simply to see his response.

  I’m pleased my suspicions were correct. He hid it well, but I sensed it months ago at our last meeting, but was never certain.

  I wasn’t aware you had a meeting. Thanks for the warning.

  She looked to him and smirked.

  I do enjoy working with you, Charlotte.

  Of course you do. Everyone loves Charlotte.

  Better. Much better.

  She vomited as the doors closed behind Callan, Dagda, and Arthur. Dane rubbed her back as a servant rushed to help. “It’s alright, Lottie. Come on; get it up and calm down.”

  “He tried to fucking kill me!” she gasped, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “Sorry; please leave it. I’ll clean it up,” she said to the young faerie at her feet.

  “No, Princess, allow me,” she said kindly.

  “Don’t use the P word, love. Makes her angry,” Dane warned the girl with a playful wink.

  With a look of horror, Charlotte snapped, “Shut up, Dane! You’ll have them all running from me at this rate!”

  Taran chuckled, thanking the girl, and turned to Markus. “Well, I’m a council member short, Mark. You’ll have to fill the gap.”

  “Not a chance, my friend. Have Dane. He’s practically family,” he said, clapping Dane on the shoulder.

  “Father, I—”

  “You’re here for all the meetings anyway, Dane. It’s one less opinion to consider and yes, family. Welcome to the council,” he said with a beaming smile.

  Dane bowed his head and turned his attention back to Charlotte. “Are you okay now?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. I don’t do well under pressure, that’s all,” she said and sighed. “Where have they taken Arthur?”

  “Dungeon. He can sweat down there for a few days while Dagda and Callan argue over who takes his head.”

  “Pl
ease don’t let them kill him, Taran.”

  “He tried on your life, Charlotte!” Taran exclaimed at her request.

  “Yes, but there’s been enough killing, Taran. Surely there’s another punishment?”

  “You’re prepared to pardon him? After that?” Dane asked in disbelief, his eyes boring into hers.

  “Yeah,” she said, looking away.

  Markus chuckled. “You never cease to amaze, Charlotte. I think I should leave you to battle this one out, Taran. I’ll see myself out.”

  “You’re unbelievable,” Dane said in a low voice, shaking his head as a guard entered the room.

  “Lord Byron,” he announced, stepping aside.

  Taran squared his shoulders while Dane positioned himself between the approaching faerie and Charlotte with a threatening glare.

  “Princess…” he began with a low shaky voice.

  Stepping around Dane, she looked him over. His body language suggested he wasn’t there to harm her. “Byron. What can I do for you?” she asked, keeping her tone even and kind.

  “I’ve come to offer an apology,” he explained quietly.

  “For what?” she asked, her brows knotted in confusion. “You didn’t hurl a knife at me, Byron.”

  “No,” he sighed. “I was, however, aware of his contempt for you and failed to act upon it. I failed you, Princess.”

  She shook her head and forced a smile. “Think no more about it. This isn’t the time for fighting amongst allies. I have far more pressing matters to attend to. But thank you. I appreciate, and accept, your apology.” She watched him for a moment, then asked, “Is there anything else?”

  Byron let out a relieved breath, glanced to Dane, bowed to Taran, and said, “No. Thank you, Princess.”

  She watched him leave the room, wondering why he’d bothered.

  Dane glared after him as Taran shook his head in awe. “There isn’t a bad bone in your body, is there Charlotte?”

  “Apparently not,” Dane muttered, grasping her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you back to your suite before you have us changing laws and rewriting treaties.”