The Darkest Night

by Emma V. Leech

  “Like what?” he asked, and she felt his expression was genuine, he didn’t know what it was.

  Océane shook her head. “I don’t know,” she muttered, her tone dark. “But I intend to find out.” She folded her arms, anger building in her chest as her own suspicions grew. “I tell you one thing, though. I bet you anything you like that that bastard that passes as his father had something to do with it.”

  Bram raised his eyebrows, shocked by her forthright manner. “You speak of King Braed?”

  “I speak of that miserable, selfish, good-for-nothing excuse for a man!” she snapped, finding that for the first time in her life, she truly knew what it was to hate someone.

  “You’ve met him?” Bram replied, looking increasingly startled by her obvious fury.

  “No,” she said, her words fierce now. “More’s the pity. For if ever a man deserved a swift kick in the balls, it’s him.”

  Bram winced and Océane admitted to a measure of satisfaction at having unsettled him. Laen had told her that Bram held some rather old-fashioned notions about how women should act and speak. It would do him good to discover that they were not nearly so ornamental as he might like to believe. Carla draped a shawl around Océane’s shoulders and gave her a reproving look. “Alors, that will be quite enough from you. You don’t want to go upsetting the baby, do you?”

  Océane’s eyes filled with tears instantly and she swallowed, shaking her head. Ever since she’d become pregnant, her emotions were all over the place, and she cried at the drop of a hat. She glanced at Bram to see him looking at her in alarm, and the tears turned to laughter. She waved her hand at him. “Oh, don’t mind me, it’s hormones,” she said as she began to sob once more. “It’s just that Laen’s going to be so alone, without me and Corin. He’s no good on his own, you see. He’ll only fret and worry and then he’ll get angry and end up making things ten times worse.”

  She brushed away her tears with irritation and reached forward to grasp Bram’s hand. “You’ll get us there, though, won’t you, Bram?” she said, knowing he understood how badly she needed to reach Laen.

  He squeezed her hand in return, his eyes grave and sincere. “You have my word of honour.”

  ***

  Claudette helped Corin fasten the buttons on his jacket, not commenting on the fact that his hands were trembling too much to do it himself. There was nothing more she could do. She had said everything she could to persuade him not to meet the king, but he had stood firm. That she admired him for it went without saying, and she knew, at heart, that he was right. But it didn't change the fact that she was afraid for him, afraid he really couldn't take much more. Only one day had passed. There were two more to go and time was ticking so slowly for him. Each hour, she could see the toll it was taking upon him, read the strain in his eyes. She longed so badly to see him laugh and tease her again, as he had when they'd first met. It was such a short time ago, and yet so much had happened in that time, it was hard to believe.

  "You look wonderful," she said, smoothing her hands over his shoulders. "I wish you didn't have to go." She looked up at him from under her lashes, a last ditch attempt to keep him away from the king.

  He chuckled, and the sound warmed her heart. "You have no idea of the temptation you present, ma belle,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. “But I am well aware of your intentions.” He touched a finger to her lips, his golden eyes full of regret. “I must go."

  Claudette sighed and returned a sad smile. "Very well, then, if you really must, but know that I am waiting for you."

  He pulled her close and leaned his forehead against hers. "That does indeed give me courage."

  Claudette clung to him as he kissed her, and then watched with foreboding in her heart as he turned and left the room.

  ***

  Corin closed the door on Claudette with regret, knowing that she was worrying for him. Frankly, he was worrying for himself. It was getting harder and harder to focus, his head was pounding already, and the last thing he needed was to face King Braed, which was, of course, why the miserable bastard had demanded it.

  He stood for a moment outside the doors of the throne room. He had arranged the meeting here with the slim hope that the massive room would allow him to keep his distance, and therefore limit the possibility of him doing the king physical harm. For just as Laen's father despised him, Corin felt a deep hatred for this man for everything he had done to his friend. For the heartache he had caused a small boy and for everything he stood for. He belittled and ridiculed any show of tenderness or affection as weakness, and had constantly tied Laen in knots that Corin had tried his best to unravel, with varying degrees of success.

  Corin hauled in a deep breath, squared his shoulders and strode into the room. The king looked up as he entered. He was sitting in Auberren's throne, his massive frame actually making the huge, golden monstrosity look small by comparison.

  "Trying it for size?" Corin remarked, one eyebrow quirked as he eyed the king with mistrust.

  Braed snorted with disgust. "Too much gold for my liking, better to melt it down."

  He nodded, watching as the king’s dark eyes followed him in turn. "Finally something we can agree upon." Corin strolled the outskirts of the room, keeping his body language languid and unruffled, though his body sang with tension. Braed stood, making a show of looking up at the pictures of Auberren's ancestors and back at Corin.

  "I cannot see any resemblance."

  Corin paused, staring back at him with contempt. "That is because there is none to be found."

  The king sat down again, leaning back against the throne and crossing one long leg, the approximate girth of which was a good-sized tree trunk, over the other. His mocking laughter filled the room. "Oh, I never believed there was. You're probably a stable lad's get, or maybe someone she met in a dark alley."

  Corin fought down the urge to kill him where he sat, instead returning a pleasant smile, apparently unruffled by the comment. "Yes, it's quite possible,” he agreed, nodding at the king. “But at least I know I'm none of yours, she does have some standards, after all."

  "Why, you little bastard!" The king got to his feet again and Corin looked back at him, cocking one eyebrow in amusement. Braed was bound by the same rules as he, after all. If he laid a hand on him, he would not stand on the Field of Kings, and Corin had little doubt now: that was certainly the man’s intention.

  Corin laughed, though it was a dark, ugly sound. "Well, then, what was it you wanted to speak to me about? If you wouldn't mind getting to the point, I would like to return to my fiancée. You have disturbed a rather pleasant evening and I have no intention of wasting more time than I must."

  The king walked down the steps of the dais, moving around Corin, his black gaze fixed on him. Corin felt a jolt of remorse as he realised how alike he was to his son, except Laen’s expression had never held such cruelty. "I hear it's snowing in Alfheim,” he said, sneering at Corin.

  Corin stared back at him and let out a breath, shaking his head. "Of course it is,” he said, his voice low. He wasn’t about to deny his feelings on the matter. He never had and he never would. Least of all before a man who would twist them and make them into something to be ashamed of. “I have just lost my oldest and dearest friend. What would you expect?” he demanded, seeing only disgust in the man’s eyes. He gave a snort of disdain, staring back at the king. “But then, of course, you have no idea what it is to feel anything other than hatred or lust, do you?" Corin walked closer to him, amusement in his eyes now. "Except perhaps jealousy,” he added with obvious scorn. “I think you are certainly acquainted with that one."

  "Jealous?" Braed roared with laughter, the sound echoing around the emptiness of the great hall. "Of you?"

  Corin smiled at him, holding his gaze, unblinking. "Undoubtedly."

  He watched the king’s face as the emotions flickered over it, finally turning a deep red with fury. He had once been a handsome man. The more he looked, the more Corin could see t
he familiar features, traces that had been passed onto his son. The wide brow and strong jaw, though Braed's was disappearing as a result of too much indulgence. He was as tall and broad as Laen, but looked bigger, in part from carrying too much weight, and the rest from the palpable air of fury that never seemed to leave him.

  "Why,” the king growled, the words laden with menace. “Why, in the name of the gods, would I be jealous of you?" he spat, looking Corin up and down as though he were beneath contempt.

  "Because you know that I can do what you have never been able to,” Corin said with a shrug, unimpressed by such tactics.

  The king’s black eyes burned with loathing as he stepped closer. "Do tell,” he snapped, fists clenched as magic that burned as Laen’s did began to boil around him.

  Corin stepped closer, holding his gaze, unblinking. "I can rule without making people fear me,” he said, knowing that it was true. He was afraid for the future, but he didn’t doubt his ability to rule. He may not want it, but he could do it. “I can unite the kingdoms because I will teach your kind to love and accept, rather than to fear and despise. It won’t happen overnight, but it will happen,” he said with as much conviction as he could muster, though he had grave doubts as to the truth of this without Laen at his side. “But,” he added, smiling now. “What galls you most of all is that in the end, they will thank me for it."

  The king stared at him, his face the picture of loathing and revulsion. "You disgust me,” he said, the words heavy with derision. “You are everything I despise. You preach of love and acceptance, and you would tear at the foundations of what it means to be Dark Fae, to be a man." He thumped his chest with fury to illustrate his words, and Corin could not help but burst out laughing at the machismo and pride in his bigotry.

  "Gods, do you hear yourself?” he said, genuinely amused by such behaviour even though he knew that such men were the heart and soul of Mechstrana. “You know, even the human world stopped living in caves some millennia ago, and yet you cling to the old ways as if they are right simply because they have always been so.” He snorted and shook his head, looking Braed over with just as much contempt as he had to Corin. “And, just so we are clear on the point, you disgust me just as thoroughly.” Corin tilted his head a little as he considered him. “Tell me,” he asked, his voice softer now. “Have you ever regretted it? I never saw Laen’s mother, but by all accounts, she was the sweetest of creatures, a gentle soul,” he added, seeing something flicker in the depths of those black eyes. “It must be hard, seeing her staring back at you whenever you look at him.”

  The king glared at him and looked away. “She was sick,” he said, his voice angry and defiant. “She was sick and she died. No one could help her. I had no hand in it.”

  “And does that answer?” Corin asked, hearing the guilt behind the man’s words all too clearly. “In the middle of the night when your conscience comes creeping, is that good enough?” He shook his head, waiting for the king to meet his eyes, if he dared. “She died of a broken heart,” he said, his voice hard and accusing now. “And you damn well know it.”

  The king whirled around, his hand raised, and Corin stood perfectly still, watching as he stopped, his great fist clenched and rage in his eyes. Braed took a deep breath, lowering his hand and stepping away. “Gods, I want to kill you,” he growled, the truth of his words only too easy to believe.

  “The feeling is entirely mutual,” Corin said with a grim smile. “Still, it appears that you will soon have your chance.” His smile grew, though he doubted it was a pleasant expression. “If you think you can,” he added, mocking him. He hoped to the gods he would try. Killing Laen’s father was something Corin had sworn to do decades ago. To do it in full view of the world, on the Field of Kings … He wanted that badly.

  He watched as Braed turned away from him, shaking his head with disbelief. “You are a bigger fool than I ever believed if you think you can claim the three kingdoms at once. It has never been done.”

  “That is not true,” Corin replied, his voice placid as the king circled him, laughing now.

  “Gods! Don’t tell me you believe the old tales? They are stories for children,” he taunted, roaring with laughter now. “You may as well speak of unicorns. If this is the kind of thing you believe, then I welcome our day in the field.” He stepped closer, putting his face right up to Corin’s and snarling. “For I will watch you burn!”

  Corin stared back, revolted by the stale breath upon his skin, but holding still. “We shall see.” The king moved away and Corin let out a breath. He was tired of this man and his hatred. Not just hatred for him, either, but for everyone who didn’t meet with his approval, with anyone a little different or out of the ordinary. Corin had no concept or understanding of why some people were so narrow-minded, and could find nothing to admire or like in this barbaric king. He wondered at the fact that Laen had managed to grow into the man he had. If he’d had any part in that, then it was something he was very proud of. “Is that all you wished to say, then?” Corin demanded, his patience at an end. He didn’t dare stay much longer, as he didn’t know how much more he could take. “If so, I have things to attend to.”

  The king shrugged and gave him a nasty smile. “I just wondered how you will feel,” he asked, and Corin knew what was coming before the words had left his mouth. This was why he had come. “What will it be like, seeing my son standing by his father, his king, supporting me as he should always have done, rather than kneeling at your feet?”

  Corin swallowed as his words struck at his heart. Laen was going to stand by his father? He realised he’d refused to believe it even now, even after everything he’d clung to the hope that he would not go that far. Not supporting him against his own father was one thing, but for Laen to follow a man he had always despised, who had ridiculed and belittled him at every turn. That he would do that rather than try to understand … Corin met the king’s eyes, unable to hide what he was feeling. “You want me to admit that I am devastated?” he demanded, stepping closer as anger and hurt and sorrow welled up in his chest. “You want me to tell you that the fact you have finally torn him away from me is a pain that I will always carry? Very well, you have done everything you have ever hoped for, and I am indeed broken-hearted. There,” he shouted, wondering how much more he could endure before he struck the man dead. “Are you satisfied now?”

  “Satisfied?” The king spat at Corin’s feet in disgust. “To hear you speak of my son in such a way?”

  Corin shook his head, wondering if the man had any capacity for anything but bullying and hatred. “Gods, man,” he said, such incomprehension in his heart that he could only feel pity for such a creature. “Is it such an incredible thing to hear someone admit that they love their friends? Do you not love your sons? Has no one ever been close to you?”

  “Aye,” the king jeered, a knowing look in his eyes that made Corin want kill him with his bare hands. “But I doubt that is the kind of love you speak of.”

  Corin laughed, too exhausted to do this any longer. He didn’t give a damn what the king believed of them, in any case, but he knew Laen did. “You must be aware of both his and my reputation with women. Stories of the wolves of Alfheim have surely reached your ears,” he said, giving Braed a smirk calculated to infuriate him. “You must know too that Laen is unbeaten in combat. He is a ruthless warrior, utterly fearless.” His voice grew as his rage and indignation at being forced to explain himself at all made him ever more furious. “You are king of Mechstrana, and yet more than half of your army dance to his tune,” he said, pointing at the king, stabbing his finger in his chest to punctuate his words and daring the man to strike him for it. “They followed him here without question, to do his bidding, no matter your will. All this, and yet you fret over his manhood because you think he’s shared my bed?”

  “I know he did!” the king roared, utterly wild now as he shook his fist in Corin’s face. “He told me so!”

  Corin’s mouth dropped open in shock and h
e stared at the king, and then he began to chuckle. “Oh, gods!” he said, quite unable to keep the mirth from his voice. “Tell me, just how old was he when he admitted this terrible secret, a secret no doubt given away under duress?”

  “What has that to do with it?” Braed demanded with fury, folding his arms and looming over Corin as best he could, though Corin only laughed harder.

  “Because,” Corin replied as his anger returned to him with some force. “I remember him telling me how angry you were and being afraid to sleep in my bed. We were just boys, for the love of the gods! Are you really so cynical that you can taint the most innocent of things with your disgust?” he demanded, staring at the man and finding he could only thank the gods that he was not him. What a mean and miserable life he must lead. “I pity you,” he said, meaning it. “I do, really.” Corin walked away with fury burning in his heart. How had Laen survived with this man as his father? No wonder he would run away for weeks at a time. Braed’s voice followed him, though, halting his footsteps before he reached the doors.

  “So you mean to tell me that you’re not lovers?” he said, his voice laden with derision. “That your wives are not just a means to ensure the succession? There has never been anything but friendship between you?”

  Corin turned and looked back at him, incredulous. The desire to step up in his face and tell him that he would not deny it, burned on his tongue. It would be worth it simply to see the look in his eyes. But if he did that, Laen would suffer for it, so no matter that it would have been satisfying beyond belief, he gritted his teeth.

  “I will tell you, upon my honour, that I will marry Claudette because I love her, as Laen loves Océane, and that nothing and no one will ever come between that. Laen is my friend, my brother. Further than that, you can burn in the fires of Tartarus for all I care of what you think or believe.”