Guardians of Hellfire (Guardians of the Fae Book 2)

by Elizabeth Hartwell

  The farmer, who says his name is Justin, handles the introductions. “This is my wife Stephanie, and my children. You already met my boy Lance, and that’s my daughter Ashley. Say hello to Lord Cole and his friends, children.”

  “You’re beautiful,” Ashley says, looking at me with wonder. “Are you a Halfling too?”

  “Ashley!” Stephanie, who’s clearly Fae with white blonde hair and the trademark golden eyes, says. “Apologies my lady, Ashley-”

  “Is a curious little girl,” I finish, smiling. “And yes Ashley, I’m a Halfling. How’d you know?”

  “You’ve got the Fae eyes, but your hair’s not like Mama’s . . . and your lips are really full. Fae have skinny lips!”

  For the first time I reach up, and realize that this time, my fangs haven’t fully retracted. I can feel them if I run my tongue over my teeth, and I remind myself not to smile too broadly. Leaning over, I whisper into Tyler’s ear.

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  “When I knew it wasn’t going to change,” Tyler whispers back before looking at Ashley. “But Ashley, thin lips aren’t a Fae trait.”

  “They are around The Vale!” Ashley declares in that determined way that only small children can have. She’s right, Tyler’s wrong, and that’s all there is to say about that.

  I look over at Cole, who shrugs as I look carefully at his mouth. I’ve always thought of it as sensuous, with just the right amount of lip for good kissing.

  “So what brings you home after so long, Lord Cole?” Stephanie asks, eager to have her daughter not embarrass her any further. “I was just a child when you left, and as the centuries have passed, I wondered if you would ever come back.”

  “It is time for at least a visit,” Cole says diplomatically, and I read what he’s saying. These people don’t need to know the truth, especially when it comes to me. It could put them in danger. “Tell me, where is your farmstead?”

  “We’ve got two,” Justin says. “When we passed you, we were heading toward my family’s plot, closer to the Winter’s Pass. Stephanie’s family plot is on the other side of the castle, near the Lake. Right now, though, we have it fallow to replenish. I keep hoping we can arrange a trade with someone who would let us put our plots together, but so far . . .”

  I lean back, enjoying the ride as Justin talks about the particular challenges of being a farmer in the northern lands. Cole’s sitting closest to me, and when I have a moment I lean over to him.

  “A Fae and human family?”

  “More common here in The Vale,” Cole whispers back. “Not all parts of the Fae realm are as prejudiced as Cassina’s kingdom. Why else do you think this is called the Northern Freelands?”

  It’s relaxing and fun to talk with the farmer family as they take us toward the castle, and I see as my Guardians handle the persistent questions from the children with deft deflections about what we’re doing in the lands.

  “So can you lift a boulder?” Lance asks Noah. “You’re bigger than even Giant MacTiernan!”

  “Lance, Sir Noah’s nowhere near as large as Giant MacTiernan!” Justin gently chastises his son, glancing over his shoulder at Noah. “But you are a rather stout man, sir.”

  “That he is,” I tease, reaching out and taking his hand. Noah takes it and gives me a little squeeze, making me smile. “Who is this Giant MacTiernan?”

  “He’s a Halfling, like us, but he’s huge!” Lance says. “He’s ten schlatterns tall, and his chest is as big as a bull’s!”

  “Schlatterns?” I whisper to Cole, who does some quick calculations in his head.

  “About eight feet,” Cole whispers. I raise an eyebrow, impressed. Noah’s tall and broad shouldered, but he’s not that big. “The Vale has always bred large men.”

  For the rest of the ride, I get stories that have to be tall tales about the Giant MacTiernan, including his habit of throwing hundred-pound grain sacks from the ground to the top levels of barns during the harvest, simply for fun.

  When we reach the castle gate, Justin stops, helping each of us climb out. “Lord Cole, this has been an honor that my family will never forget. Thank you, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Cole says before stopping and looking at Tyler, holding out his hand. Tyler nods, and hands the courtsword over to Cole, who offers it to Justin. “I wish I could offer a more personal token, but if you or your family ever need my help, come to the castle and present this. You’ll get the help you need.”

  It’s just more insight into the mystery that’s been running around in my head as I look at Cole, who still looks uncomfortable at the way Justin and his family are acting toward him, but he’s trying his best to go along with it. Obviously, he comes from noble blood somehow . . . but then how did he end up a commoner in what seems to me to be the Fae equivalent of a foreign land, enlisting in the Queen’s Guard?

  Justin stutters, his hand shaking as he takes the blade, swallowing back tears of gratitude. “Of course. Thank you.”

  Justin remounts his wagon and they drive off, the children waving as they go down the road. Cole watches them, then looks at all of us, his face red. “Thank you . . . I know you have questions, but trust me a few minutes longer. I will tell you as soon as I am able. You deserve the whole tale and not some abbreviated version.”

  I nod, taking his hand. “Cole, we trust you. Let’s go.”

  We approach the gate, the guardsmen stiffening to attention as Cole approaches. “Identify yourself.”

  “Must be the rookie on gate duty,” Jacob jokes, as Cole straightens up as best he can.

  “Cole Wintersong, of Castle Vale and son of Lord Wintersong,” he declares. “I seek an audience with my father, or whoever is in charge.”

  The guard’s eyes widen slightly, but before he can say anything, a crossbow bolt buries itself in the ground at my feet. I jerk a step back as we all look up to see a fierce strawberry blonde Fae woman with a crossbow in her hand. Flanking her on each side are two dozen archers, their bows drawn. “You have five seconds to tell me why you brought that danger to our home Cole, before I turn you and your friends into target practice.”

  Cole raises his hand in greeting, his voice heavy with pain and regret. “Deara . . . I have come to see Lorelai. I seek her help and her power.”

  “After what you did to her? To us?” Deara calls down. “I should put this bolt in your heart just for that.”

  “Please, Deara . . . I’m begging you. Whatever my crime, whatever I have done to our family,” Cole calls up, “this woman is innocent. Whatever you have heard about her, she needs our help.”

  Deara looks like she’s about to squeeze the trigger on her crossbow, but after a moment, she lowers it. “Fine. Let them into the courtyard.”

  Chapter 26

  Eve

  I feel naked.

  For the first time since those terrifying hours wandering the road before my adventure with Little Jimmy in the Warrens, I don’t have any of my Guardians with me. Instead, I’ve got three Fae warriors behind me, two with crossbows while the other has a spear, all three of them ready to take me out with a single twitch of a finger.

  Deara walks in front of me, occasionally looking back over her shoulder at me. “So . . . you’re the one that has Cassina going mad.”

  “From what I’ve heard, she’s been that way since long before I was born,” I say, unable to hold back the snide comment. Deara smirks though, like she agrees. “Where are Cole and the others?”

  “Under guard, in what used to be his chambers,” Deara says. “Hopefully, they’re bathing, with the way they all smelled. When was the last time you took a bath?”

  I think, then chuckle. While we’ve used streams to do quick wash downs on the road, my last real bath was all the way back at the enchanted pool my second night in the Fae realm. “Too long. Where are you taking me?”

  “To see Lorelai,” Deara says. “What happens to you then is up to her.”

  “But if I’m such a threat-”

&nb
sp; “If anyone can handle you in an instant, it is Lorelai,” Deara says without a hint of bragging. “Those bracers might be a maiden’s breath away from disintegrating, but even you can’t act faster than Lorelai if she thinks you need to die. Don’t worry, she’s powerful, but fair.”

  Deara’s not being brutal, but instead honest, and that honesty kills the rest of the conversation as we continue along the corridor. It’s unique, instead of being bricked over it looks like it’s been carved directly out of the rock, concrete smooth but with the swirling colors and flecks of sparkle that tell me it isn’t artificial. Finally, after two minutes that seem to stretch on forever in the silence, we reach the end of the corridor, and I face a door that’s nearly ten feet high and solid wood. A large black iron knocker rests in the middle, and Deara lifts it, the booming knocks echoing down the hallway.

  I can’t hear any reply, but suddenly there’s a clicking sound, and the door swings open on its own. Deara stops, then gestures to me.

  “Inside. We will wait.”

  “Is this really needed?” I ask, looking back at the three Fae guarding me. They’re trembling, all of them so scared I swear a mouse squeak would have them pissing their pants and most likely shooting me, and I change my mind about saying something about it. I think they might shoot me by accident if they quiver any harder. “Understood.”

  “Lorelai will open the door for you when it is time for you to go,” Deara says, gesturing. “Please.”

  I step forward, stopping at the doorway to look Deara in the eye. “After this, I’d like to speak with you. About Cole.”

  “What about him?” Deara asks.

  “Many things. Such as why you would threaten your brother for starters,” I say, stepping the rest of the way in. Deara closes the door, and I look around the large chambers, slightly surprised.

  “Not what you were expecting?” a soft, slightly amused voice says from behind a tapestry. “My brother did tell you about me, did he not?”

  “He did,” I confirm, staying my ground as I look around the room. There’s a low ceiling, but other than that it’s bright and almost airy. We must be far underground, but there’s no mustiness, no smokiness of lamps or anything like that. Instead, the room smells like fresh herbs, and the room is lit with lanterns that glow with a light that I recognize is akin to Faelight, but much stronger, so that it glows like natural fluorescent bulbs except that the light looks natural.

  The tapestry rustles, pulling back to reveal a beautiful Fae woman with the same eyes as Cole, even if her hair is nearly platinum white. She’s got a similar build, athletic and graceful and so beautiful that she’s a vision. I can’t tell much about her face though because she’s wearing a veil that starts just below her eyes and goes all the way down to her chest.

  “Come, sit,” she says calmly.

  “You’re not scared of me? Your guards and your sister seem ready to make me a corpse if I coughed wrong.”

  Lorelai raises her hand, and I feel strong, invisible hands lift me into the air and carry me across the room before setting me in one of the two chairs that are facing each other over a large symbol carved into the stone floor. She sits down, and as soon as her hips touch the padding, the symbol starts to glow with a blue light.

  “Within this symbol, no one can touch me,” she says quietly, reaching up and undoing her mask. “Perhaps the King of Hell could, but I’d take my odds with that old deceiver too.”

  Lorelai lowers her mask, and I can’t help but gasp at what I see. Her face, which on the right half is so beautiful that I could cry in jealousy at the utter elegance and perfection of her high cheekbones, graceful jawline, and perfect lips, is reflected on the other side in a horrible gash that stretches from the tip of her chin to just below her left eye. I stammer, knowing I’m being rude, but I’m caught off guard.

  “I . . . I’m sorry.”

  “Five hundred years ago, I was considered one of the most beautiful young women in the realm,” Lorelai says, setting the mask aside. “This wound is part of the reason for the questions in your head. You want to know if I can help you. I’ll know that soon enough. By the time we’re done talking, I’ll know what, or if, I can help you.”

  Her eyes study me, piercing into mine. It’s strange, because as I watch her now, I can see a fine network of crow’s feet around her eyes, crinkles that give her a gaze far full of wisdom and power. It’s a marked contrast to every other part of her body, which is youthful and supple. But her eyes scream otherwise, of a life filled with more pain and more knowledge than any one being should endure. I wonder, if I survive this, will I look the same eventually?

  “What happened?” I ask. “Tell me about Cole, and what caused him to end up saving me from a Vampire behind a dive bar in Old Haven.”

  Lorelai smiles, and reattaches her mask, looping it around her ears. “I’m the eldest of the three Wintersong children. Our father is Lord Callan, and my mother and Deara’s mother is Lady Merae.”

  “Wait . . . Cole’s mother isn’t the same?” I ask, and Lorelai shakes her head.

  “Come now, you must have seen it. Cole is part human,” Lorelai replies. “His birth mother was a Halfling. Cole was conceived when our father was away from The Vale for diplomatic reasons for a very long time. To most people in The Vale, it was what it was, and no one seemed to care. But to Maera Wintersong, her husband showing up with not only a bastard child but one that is part human?” She shakes her head. “It wounded my mother’s pride deeply. I understand that, but it also wasn’t Cole’s fault and he was the one that paid the price.”

  “And Cole’s mother?”

  “Died in childbirth.”

  She shakes her head again, and I swallow back the horror at what Cole must have faced growing up. To never know your mother, and for the woman who was supposed to be your mother rejecting you? “How’d he take it?”

  “Remarkably well,” Lorelai says with a shrug. “Our father loved him dearly for twenty years. Before Deara was born, Cole was the apple of his eye. Still, Cole could feel the chill from our mother even though he dedicated himself to becoming the perfect Fae nobleman and warrior. From the time he could pick up a dagger, he was in the training yards with our father’s soldiers, using it like a sword and practicing maneuvers. By the time he was thirteen, he was as strong as a man and a match for all but the best of the best. He was my father’s pride and joy, and The Vale almost universally celebrated when Cole was named heir-apparent.”

  “Not you?” I ask, and Lorelai sighs.

  “No. I was seeing a man from another kingdom, and was often gone from The Vale. But my mother didn’t see it that way. She saw it as an insult to her and the true Wintersong bloodline.”

  Lorelai’s voice darkens, and as she continues her hand squeezes the armrest of her chair until the wood creaks. “She was so blinded by her jealousy, she consulted with a sorceress, and cast a spell over Cole the night of his coming of age feast. Cole drank from his chalice and fell under the delusion that a demon was attacking. Armed with his sword, carried as part of his ceremonial armor, he attacked the demon . . . me. The sorceress my mother used had a grudge against my our family, and plotted revenge.”

  I gasp. “What happened?”

  “My mother, unable to admit her deed of course, tried to make the best of it. She blamed Cole’s attack on his human heritage and his drunkenness. My injury was used by her to shame my father into taking away Cole’s birthright . . . and Cole exiled himself at that point. I, of course, had to recover and heal from the wound as best I could. The blade was enchanted though . . . and you see the results. My betrothed saw things differently, and I only saw him once afterward when he said he’d found another.”

  I swallow back my pain, wiping away a tear. “I’m sorry for your pain. But if your mother-”

  “It took me over a hundred years of growing my power in anger, shame and guilt, dabbling in the gray arts that Fae are not comfortable exploring, for me to learn the truth from her mind,”
Lorelai says. “I have told none in my family, but I have my proof. My studies have taken me from the pure light and into a twilight area of magic, somewhere between the darkness and the light. If my mother tries to hurt Cole or Deara, I will use my power. I still love her, though. A mother’s love is a strong bond. So I helped her and my father find an excuse to leave the castle when I heard about Cole and his new . . . woman.”

  The glowing symbols underneath us pulse in color, changing from blue to green, to purple before returning to blue. Lorelai leans back, nodding. “That’s enough storytelling for now. I have what I need to know.”

  “What does that mean? Can you help me?” I ask, and Lorelai tilts her head. “Or should I be asking, will you help me?”

  “It means that before I can answer that, I need to talk to my brother. It is not in you, but in him and your other Guardians that the true key lies. Tell Deara to have Cole come see me, and then I will give you my answer.”

  Chapter 27

  Cole

  Cole’s knees tremble as he approaches the door to the parapet where the message said Lorelai would wait for him. Even though it has been five centuries since he’d seen the castle, the halls still feel familiar to him, even if they carry the tinge of sadness and the anger he felt when he left.

  Five centuries, he’s lived with his personal demons. He’d wounded his sister, and afterward felt the shame of having his birthright taken away from him. He still didn’t know why he’d done what he did, only that he’d failed his family. Now he was being forced to come face to face with his greatest failure, at a time when his responsibility could not be greater.

  Climbing the steps, he suspects that they’re the same stones from when he used to climb up here as a child, barely worn even after five hundred years. The little flaws are the same, the funny discoloration in the fifth step that looks like a dog’s head almost making him stop to look at it more closely.

  He stops, reaching the door and knocks.