The Darkest Night

by Emma V. Leech

  The Darkest Night

  The French Fae Legend Book 3

  By Emma V. Leech

  ****

  Published by: Emma V. Leech.

  Copyright (c) Emma V. Leech 2017

  Cover Art: Victoria Cooper

  ASIN No.:

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. The ebook version and print version are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The ebook version may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share the ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is inferred

  Table of Contents

  Map of the Fae Lands

  The Darkest Night

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Want more Emma?

  About Me!

  Other Works by Emma V. Leech

  The Key to Erebus

  The Rogue

  Dying for a Duke

  Acknowledgements

  Map of the Fae Lands

  The Darkest Night

  Prologue

  The four grubby boys stood back, grinning and congratulating each other as they stared with satisfaction at their creation.

  “It will never hold you, you know.” This unwelcome observation came from a fifth child at the edge of the lake.

  Four pairs of eyes swivelled in his direction, none of them friendly. He was no more than six, with a mop of thick, dark hair and expressive brown eyes that held a little anxiety, but he faced the others, who were at least four years his senior. The bigger boys nudged each other, sniggering as they pointed at him, and he blushed a little. He knew well enough that his pristine white shirt with a frill down the front, lace cuffs, and the deep blue, velvet knee britches were likely going to get him beaten up, but he liked them.

  “Who asked you?” demanded the biggest of them, wiping his filthy hands on a pair of equally dirty trousers.

  Lord Tullius Aelfric Fafner Beltran the Third – Tully to his familiars – shrugged. “No one did,” he replied, aware that giving his name wouldn’t help matters. “But it still won’t hold,” he added, looking at the rickety bridge with deep scepticism.

  “Shut up!” they chorused, jeering and mocking him by mimicking his posh accent.

  “It’s your funeral.” Tully folded his arms and watched as the boy put his foot on the unstable-looking structure. It had been built with the express intention of crossing the lake to the small island at its centre and stealing the duck eggs which they knew to be hidden in the reeds. Tully watched as the boy inched along and the bridge gave an alarming creak. The boy’s eyes widened a little, looking a little less sure of himself before glaring at Tully. “Push off,” he growled, obviously not appreciating an audience. “No one asked you to join in.”

  Tully sighed with frustration, though he was quite used to being told to go away by the older boys, all of whom regarded him as a nuisance. “Fine,” he muttered, kicking his toe in the dirt. “I was on my way to see the princes, in any case.”

  The boy gave a bark of laughter, looking at him with obvious disbelief. “As if they’d let a baby like you hang around with them!” The other boys roared with laughter and Tully blushed so hard he felt his cheeks burn. Then the spark of defiance which always seemed to lead him into trouble flickered to life, his chin came up and he crossed his arms. “They will,” he said, his voice trembling with fury. “They’re my friends.”

  With great concentration the boy shuffled a little further onto the bridge before stopping to regard Tully with contempt. “Don’t tell lies, you little rat.”

  “I’m not!” he shouted back, with all the righteous indignation of a small boy.

  But the boy on the bridge had other things to worry about as a sickening creak sounded and the bridge gave way, plunging him into the icy depths of the lake. For a few moments there was a lot of yelling and thrashing about, but the boy, with some help from his comrades, was hauled from the water, spluttering and coughing. He sat on the edge of the bank, and regarded Tully with disfavour, but Tully was too hysterical to notice. He rocked back on his heels, clutching at his sides, as fat tears rolled down his cheeks.

  “Get him,” the boy said, his tone dark and furious.

  Tully’s laughter stopped short as he sensed the likelihood of his imminent demise. For a moment everything was still, and then he turned tail and fled from the copse. Crashing through the undergrowth, he winced as he heard his shirt tear, but hurried on as fast as his little legs could manage, aware that it would be a deal worse if they caught him. Exploding from the undergrowth like a small firework, he made to open ground.

  To his great relief, it appeared that luck was smiling on him as he had hardly broken from the tree line when the magnificent sight of the two young princes, riding in his direction, appeared before him.

  “Help!” he shrieked as the four bigger boys were now gaining on him fast. Gasping for breath, he pushed harder as the darker of the two young men urged his horse forward and came to meet him. A pair of impatient golden eyes stared down at him in frustration.

  “What the devil have you done now?” the young prince demanded, shaking his head at him.

  “Couldn’t you ask me that later?” Tully shouted, dashing behind his horse and peering out at the angry mob that had ground to a halt in front of the two princes. At fourteen, they were regarded as being rather godlike figures in the eyes of the younger boys, and as the sun set on the horizon, burnishing Laen’s white blonde hair and sending Corin’s eyes a deeper gold, it was no wonder.

  Corin glanced across at Laen, who was the least friendly of the two, and by far the biggest. He glowered but, to Tully’s relief, gave a reluctant nod. “They’ll kill him otherwise.”

  “I swear, Tully, this is the last ti
me,” Corin warned him as he reached down and grasped him by the back of his shirt, hauling him up onto his horse.

  “You said that the last time,” Tully said, grinning now that his untimely death had been averted.

  Corin looked down at him and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

  The two young gods turned the horses in the direction of home whilst Tully took the opportunity to stick his tongue out at his pursuers. They were staring at him in astonishment and it was too good an opportunity to miss. He yelped as Corin gave him a clip round the ear. “Stop looking so damn smug or I’ll take you back,” he muttered.

  “Sorry,” Tully replied, chastised. He rubbed his ear, looking up at his greatest hero with unabashed admiration. “Where are we going?”

  “You are going home.”

  Tully pouted but wisely kept his mouth shut.

  Once back on Corin’s estate, Tully was unceremoniously dumped at the stables and left to make his way home. He watched with disappointment as the two young men headed off to set about the business they had lined up, deep in discussion. Knowing he’d likely get into trouble, but quite unable to resist, he followed them. It didn’t take long for Corin to discover they were being shadowed. He pointed back in the direction of the stables where they had left him. “Go away.”

  Tully quailed a little, hating it when Corin got angry with him. Nonetheless, he stood his ground, shaking his head and crossing his arms, looking mutinous. Laen took a step forward, then, and Tully could not help but swallow as the bigger, scarier boy turned his dark, black eyes on him. “You heard him, get lost,” he said, his voice an angry snarl.

  “Shan’t,” Tully replied, his voice trembling a little.

  “Gods!” Laen cursed, turning to his friend. “Let’s lock him in the cellar.”

  Corin returned an impatient look and shook his head. “You’ll give him nightmares and then we’ll be for it.” He sighed, and Tully knew he was weakening. Corin was always the kindest of the two of them. “If we leave him here, he’ll only sulk,” Corin said, sounding as though he was giving into the inevitable.

  “Yes, and tell everyone where we’ve gone,” Laen muttered in disgust, folding arms that were already heavy with muscle.

  Corin sighed and gestured for Tully to join them. “Come on then,” he said, before giving him a hard stare, those strange golden eyes glinting at him. “But mind you keep your wretched mouth shut, do you understand?”

  Tully nodded, beaming at Corin and grasping his hand. “I will, I promise,” he said, meaning every word. He’d do anything for Corin. “Even if I’m tortured,” he added, just to illustrate his devotion.

  Laen snorted, a look of deep disdain in his eyes. “Tully, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut if your life depended on it. One day it will get you into the kind of trouble there’s no getting out of.”

  “That’s what my father says, too,” Tully said, glowering at Laen and feeling it was deeply unfair. “It’s not true, though,” he added, finding he was really quite angry that people didn’t trust him to hold his tongue. “I can keep a secret. I’ve kept big secrets, haven’t I, Corin?” He thought for a moment and then grinned as he remembered one of the biggest. “I mean, I never told Laen about catching you lying in the straw kissing his sis...”

  Tully’s teeth rattled in his head as Corin smacked his hand over his mouth and the two of them turned to see that Laen had stopped in his tracks. A look of such fury coloured his pale skin that Corin sighed. Looking down at Tully, he raised one elegantly arched eyebrow. “You were saying?”

  Tully swallowed, his gaze swivelling from Corin to Laen, eyes widening as he saw Laen was heading in Corin’s direction with a murderous expression. Removing Corin’s hand from his mouth, he dived into the nearest bush as Laen collided with his friend with the weight and finesse of a raging bull. The two boys hit the floor with muttered curses and fists flying. and Tully settled back to watch the fight from his place of safety.

  Moments later, and with the unerring sick sense that seemed to follow her son’s safety, the stunning vision of Corin’s mother, Queen Audrianne, arrived to discover the two princes knocking each other senseless. Taking in the scene with a heavy sigh, she didn’t bother wasting her breath trying to part them, and instead ran to the well and hauled up a bucket of water. This was thrown, unceremoniously, over their heads, and as Tully well knew it was icy cold, it had the desired effect.

  “Mother!” Corin spluttered, pushing his sodden dark hair out of his eyes while Laen spat blood on the ground beside him.

  “Get up, the pair of you. Whatever is it about this time?” she demanded, picking her silk skirts up out of the way of the muddy water. “Oh, Corin!” She took out a pristine white handkerchief and began to dab his bloody lip and exclaim over his eye which was already swelling shut. “Mother,” Corin grumbled, pushing her hand away. “Stop it, you’re embarrassing me.” She sighed and put the hanky away, looking at Laen, who was trying to stem a bloody nose with his sleeve. She raised an eyebrow in what was a familiar gesture.

  Laen blushed before pointing at Corin. “He kissed Aleish!” he yelled, still utterly furious.

  The queen bit back a smile and reached down, patting Laen’s cheek with affection. “Well, of course he kissed her,” she said, sounding perfectly reasonable. “She’s very pretty.”

  Laen opened his mouth to reply, but this terrible logic seemed to have stalled his brain, so he just gaped at her in amazement. He turned to scowl at Corin, who was now smirking.

  “Come on, the healer for both of you.” She took each boy by the ear as they cursed and protested that they were no longer children, and towed them in the direction of the house. Stopping in the doorway she paused as a thought occurred to her and let them go. “Straight to the healer,” she said, eyes narrowed. “Then you’d best go and see cook, she mentioned something about making spice biscuits this afternoon.”

  The two boys looked sheepish and grinned at her, heading into the house with their fight forgotten for the time being. Tully watched as the queen pursed her lips and walked back to the scene of the crime.

  “Tully?” she called, putting her hands on her hips.

  Wondering how on earth she had known, Tully emerged from his hiding place, brushing down his britches and picking leaves from his hair as he walked towards her. He looked up at the queen; wondering just how much trouble he was in and kicking his toe in the dirt.

  “Do you like spice biscuits, by any chance?” she inquired, an amused lilt to her voice that allowed Tully to let out a breath of relief.

  “Oh, yes,” he said, grinning at her. “Above all things!”

  She held out her hand and Tully ran over and took it, looking up at her with a shy smile before frowning. “How did you know I was there?” He stared at her, puzzled, as he’d been well hidden.

  The queen glanced down at him, her lips twitching a little. “Lucky guess,” she said before taking him down to the kitchens.

  Chapter 1

  Ameena stared out of her bedroom window, her warm breath fogging the glass. It made little difference to the view. From her vantage point at the top of an ugly tower block, London was spread out below like a filthy blanket. The view didn’t please her one bit, but wore on her already low spirits, sinking them further. A sky as grey as the pigeons that huddled outside on the window sill loomed over the city, heavy and oppressive with the promise of more rain to come. The rain fell and fell, a never ending torrent, slicking the grey streets and the grey buildings, and soaking all the little grey people, hurrying to and fro like ants.

  She sighed as the woman in the flat next door screeched, and banged on the adjoining wall. Ameena reached for her phone and slid the bar further across until the music thudded through her, louder than her own heartbeat. Three Days Grace shook the paper thin walls and rattled the glass in the windows, and she threw herself down on the bed in despair. God, she hated her life. She hated this nasty little flat, hated being surrounded by people, hated the ci
ty, and hated her job as a nurse. Oh, no, she thought, a bitter smile crossing her mouth, strike that last one ... she didn’t have a job.

  She had quit last night; the malicious bitch who had been her boss had finally succeeded and Ameena’s temper had overruled good sense. Nothing new there. But the satisfaction she had felt in telling her what exactly she could do with the bedpan she’d been holding had been short lived. Her rent was two weeks overdue already, there was no food in the house, and there was no way she was going to go and ask her parents for a handout and admit she had fucked up ... again.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God ... kill me now,” she said with a groan, pulling a pillow over her head as the neighbour thumped harder on the wall. She lay there for a moment before flinging the pillow aside in frustration, and pulled out the drawer on the bedside table. Scattering the contents in all directions, she searched for a packet of cigarettes she had stashed there when she had been feeling momentarily flush after pay day. Spying the packet, she grabbed it with relief, accidentally snagging the edge of a tattered old envelope at the same time.

  Though it was stupid, her heart ached at the sight of it. Well, it wasn’t like she could feel any more depressed than she was. Ameena picked it up and slid off the side of the bed onto the floor, placing the envelope on her lap with care. She didn't need to open it to see the photographs it contained. Though every one of them was engraved on her memory, she didn’t usually allow herself to actually look at them. It had been years since she had last given in. She wasn’t one for self-pity, and it only ever made her feel more wretched. Lighting up a cigarette, she inhaled, leaning her head back on the mattress and watching the smoke curl up to the dirty, yellowing ceiling.

  If she closed her eyes she could see the cottage, tiny and lopsided, set amongst trees and rolling hills. She could hear the cows lowing in the fields next door and the frogs singing their joyous summer song by the pond. As a child she’d spent hours there, trying to catch the slippery creatures as they slid through her fingers and splashed into the cool, green water. Her heart constricted at the memory, only to be battered afresh as more followed in quick succession. The smell of wood smoke that pervaded the whole house, even when the fire wasn’t lit, and the way her bedroom window had grown white with frost, even on the inside, when the winter began to bite.