Taking his hand in hers, she pushed it away. “Are you finished?”
“Do you reject my proposal, little faery?”
“You call that a proposal?” It took all her power to deny him.
“You wish for me to explain in full, torrid detail what I am proposing?” His tone dipped so low she could barely hear it.
“I wish for you to stop talking so we may discuss the reason I asked you here.”
Lucien laughed and pushed directly back from her throne. A chair formed behind him, catching him so he didn’t fall on the floor. He sat, facing her, his eyes on her—studying, probing, mocking. The dark and twisted lines of his throne were not her doing. She knew his magic to be much stronger than hers, but he shouldn’t have been able to manipulate her palace. This was her home, built by her magic.
“I’m listening.” He lazily draped his arms over the sides, tapping his nails in a steady rhythm against the stone chair.
“Lord Bellemare,” Tania said, doing her best to regain her composure. “I want him brought to me. Alive.”
Lucien froze, his hands lifted in mid-tap as he studied her for a long moment. She’d shocked him.
“In exchange,” she continued, “I will grant you one night in the mortal realm. I will let the magic of the faeries slip away so you may pass through one of our rings.”
“Not much can be done in one night,” Lucien said.
“It is a simple task I ask, but one I cannot do myself for reasons I will not discuss.” Tania arched a brow. “And one night is more than you have now.”
Lucien grinned, lifting his hand to the side. A small ring of fire appeared in his palm. “Is that all?”
“The Bellemare family remains unharmed.”
“Mmm, nay,” Lucien shook his head. “I cannot promise that. No fun is to be had in that pledge.”
“Then his family is to remain unharmed for a fortnight after he is brought to me alive. Naught can happen to them before that time. Not one single injury by your doing or responsibility.”
He merely stared at her.
“Have we a deal?” It took all her willpower to stay calm. Lucien was not a man to easily cross.
“Why?”
“That is my concern.” She lifted her chin. “Have we a deal?”
“Is he the one?”
“Have we a deal?”
“Kidnapping protected mortals is a grave thing,” he warned, though his concern was fake. “You would not want anyone to know, would you?”
The fire twisted off the tips of his hand, moving through the air toward her chin. He wiggled his fingers, sending the fiery trail down her chest. The flame glanced over her nipples, igniting a shockwave of carnal pleasure over her. She slashed her hand through the flame, freezing it so he was forced to stop. The fire trail dropped, crashing on the ground like tinkling red-orange gems before puffing into a line of smoke.
“What would happen if King Ean found out?” he continued as if nothing had happened. “Bellemare is blessed by him after all. You have seen what happens to people who take his wards. King Merrick stole Juliana and the two kingdoms are now at war. Are the faeries ready to fight Tegwen as well? Will you join forces with Merrick? Will you join forces with me?”
“You know as well as I, to do that would only help you. I will not join you, Lucien, and I will not cross King Ean. My business with Lord Bellemare is my own and my taking him does not concern the Blessed Kingdom. Why do you think I send you to fetch him? The deed of crossing him over will be yours. Now, I ask you again? Have we a deal?” Tania was apprehensive, as she waited his answer.
“Aye,” Lucien agreed, nodding. “We do.”
“When?”
“It is already in motion.” He grinned. “I will simply change my course for yours instead.”
Holding out his hand, fire formed in his palm, molding into a knife. He took the blade and slashed it across his palm before offering the hilt to Tania. She hesitated. He wanted the agreement in blood? She had thought he’d want to leave himself an out, but a contract like this was impenetrable. Knowing that he’d be bound to bring Hugh to her alive and to keep his family safe for at least a short while after, she held out her hand. A few weeks would give her enough time to set things right with Hugh.
Instead of taking the knife, Tania stretched her fingers and waited. She didn’t have the stomach to cut herself. Lucien laughed, even as he sliced through her hand.
Tania moaned at the sharp pain. Faeries weren’t meant for ugly dealings such as these. They were meant to only see beauty and happiness. Each moment that passed a piece of her died, withering with Lucien’s nearness. She only hoped he brought Hugh to her in time to save whatever light magic she had left. Only, when Hugh was brought to her, what would she do? Force him to love her?
I will deal with that when the time comes.
Lucien pressed his hand to hers, his blood burned like acid as it bound into her system. She screamed, automatically jerking her arm away. He held it tighter, refusing to let go.
“So shall it be,” he said, his black eyes bright with an inner fire. “A pact is made and bound by blood.”
Tania felt nauseous, even as she nodded, whispering, “So shall it be.”
Lucien disappeared, taking his throne chair with him and Tania fell forward, landing on her hands and knees as she threw up onto the ground. Her body burned and the knife wound refused to heal itself. She was getting weaker. She hadn’t much time.
Whimpering, she rolled on her side and curled into a ball at the foot of her throne. She felt Lucien’s influence all around her. “Please let this alliance not be a mistake. Make Hugh love me again. Make him love me.”
Chapter Three
Euric’s face was white when Hugh and Thomas reached the courtyard. Without uttering a word, the man pointed toward Bellemare’s stables. A crowd of servants and knights had gathered outside the wooden structure. Hugh pushed through them. A woman screamed near the front of the group, drawing his attention briefly to her. He couldn’t see any reason for her cries so dismissed her as hysterical as he continued his way through the crowd.
“Back away!” Geoffrey yelled. The crowd listened, albeit slowly.
“What is…?” Thomas’ words trailed off.
Hugh came out of the crowd, his stomach tight with worry that it was William. The relief he felt was bittersweet as he looked down. A dead foal lay on the ground, its head missing and its body still covered in the evidence of its birth. Behind him, he heard the low tones of the castle’s monk reciting prayers. Hugh was too shaken to translate the Latin words in his head.
“What did this?” Thomas asked, kneeling by the dead animal to examine it closely without touching it. “The neck looks gnawed on.”
“That is not from the ones stillborn last night,” Hugh answered. “The markings on his legs are different.”
“You mean we lost another?” Thomas swore softly. “Nay, it cannot be. Why is this happening?”
Hugh glanced at his brother, thankful that he’d said the words softly. He didn’t want the people of Bellemare panicking any more than they were. A loud thump sounded inside the stables causing a collective gasp of alarm.
“What was that?” Thomas stood. Hugh looked at the stables, trying to listen over the murmur of voices behind him.
Another thump sounded, followed by a crash against the stable wall. The wood reverberated, sending chills over Hugh. Require him to face a man three times his size in battle and he would do so without question, but this? He swallowed, drawing his sword. The action prompted the others to do the same. He vaguely heard the monk urging the crowd further back still, frightening them with words about the evil that lurked within the stables.
“Mayhap the monk and the violet-eyed woman are right,” Hugh said to Thomas. “Mayhap the devil has come to Bellemare.”
“Aye,” Thomas agreed. Geoffrey gave the brothers a strange look but said nothing.
Someone passed Hugh a torch and he took it, holding it
up in one hand while wielding his sword with the other. He went forward first, leading the way into the dark stables. More evidence of slaughtered horses greeted them and the acrid smell of blood was thick on the air. A horse whinnied and stomped, kicking at the wood, giving evidence to the sound they’d heard outside.
“Show yourself,” Hugh ordered, holding the torch high. His skin prickled with the knowledge that they weren’t alone, that something else was in the room with them, waiting in the darkness. He stepped over an unrecognizable bloody mass on the floor, doing his best not to breathe in the smell.
They passed a mare still tethered in her stall. Thomas patted the animal’s neck, looking alongside it. He shook his head, indicating that no one was there.
“This is Lord Bellemare,” Hugh shouted, “show yourself!”
“Do you really think a man did this?” Geoffrey asked. “Perchance a wolf?”
Suddenly, a low growl came from the back. It was a throaty, juicy sound. Hugh edged forward, concentrating on his surroundings. The circle of light did little to give comfort in the darkness. Something flew out of the shadows at him, hitting his wrist and forcing him to drop the torch. As the light fell, he realized it was a severed horse’s leg that struck him.
Aye, perchance a wolf, Hugh thought, hoping it was so, but not convinced by the explanation. The torch fire hit straw and ignited, sending a blaze to light the stables.
“By all that is holy!” Thomas pointed at the beast that had attacked the horses. It wasn’t an animal, and most definitely not a wolf. “It looks like a—a man.”
“That is not a man,” Geoffrey whispered. “It is a…”
“A man-beast,” Hugh finished, unable to think of what else to call it.
The creature wore the tattered clothes of a nobleman, covered in dirt and leaves. Skeletal hands reached out, dripping with blood. Flesh rotted off the dead man’s face, hanging in patches.
The earl gagged, Geoffrey made a weak noise and Thomas swore under his breath. Hugh knew they were all three frightened, but he trusted the other two to stay by him.
They had all seen dead men after the bodies had been left out past their time for burial. They had seen corpses and horror, slain men on the sides of battlefields. Such was the lot of a knight. But, never had they seen a man come back from the dead.
“Lord Eadward?” Hugh whispered, seeing the crest on the creature’s cloak. The symbol was as familiar to him as his own crest. Eadward was Juliana’s dead fiancé and had been a friend of Hugh’s father. The man had been killed by his demon-possessed son, who also happened to be their childhood friend—Sir Nicholas. It took place right before Juliana was taken by Merrick to the Otherworld.
“It cannot be,” Geoffrey said. “Lord Eadward has been dead for nigh over a year.”
The fire spread, heating the structure. Hugh kept his eyes forward, ordering the others, “We need to save the horses. These are the best of Bellemare’s stock. We cannot lose them.”
They slowly backed away, keeping their eyes on the creature. Hugh shivered. Should they confront it? Or did they save the horses and run away? If they chose to fight the beast, how could he kill a dead man? And how could they run away with such a beast on the loose?
Eadward opened his mouth, gurgling. It was an awful sound, one the man would never have made in his living years. Or was it wrong to think of the creature as Eadward? Hugh’s mind raced, trying to grasp what he was seeing. He knew the possibility of such things as this could exist, but that didn’t make witnessing it any easier to believe.
Hugh wondered how the creature could see them without eyes, but the face turned as if it knew exactly where the men were. Suddenly, Eadward lunged, baring unholy fangs as he flew through the air with predatory ease, taking them by surprise. Hugh automatically lifted his sword to fight, the motion a reflex from years of training.
The blade slid into Eadward’s stomach, but the man-beast didn’t stop coming. Bony fingers bit into Hugh’s shoulders seconds before Eadward’s teeth sunk into his neck.
“Ahh,” Hugh yelled, pushing the hilt of his sword forward to get the dead man off of him. But Eadward possessed a strength in death that he never had in life as he latched himself into Hugh’s flesh.
“Hugh!” Thomas cried.
“Kill him,” Hugh yelled, desperate to have the creature off as he was brought to his knees. The blade stuck out of the creature’s back, having run him through to no consequence. Hugh pushed at the bony chest with his free hand as the hilt of his sword pressed into his stomach. His wrist twisted as his sword hand was trapped at an odd angle. Eadward pinned him to the ground, feeling five times heavier than he could’ve possibly weighed.
“Pull him off,” Geoffrey hollered. Hugh’s body jerked as they tried to free him from the man-beast’s hold. Eadward gripped him tighter. “Get the head!”
“Stand back,” Thomas ordered.
Hugh’s vision swam and bright spots of light made it hard to see. The fire danced all around him, heating his flesh as the stables continued to burn. Weakly, he mumbled, “Save the horses. They are the best of the stock.”
Thomas didn’t appear to hear him. The sound of footsteps and yelling ensued behind his head and he knew his men had come to fight the fire. In the chaos, he saw Thomas above him, his sword drawn, his face tight as he swung the blade down. Hugh closed his eyes, his body braced—braced for hope of liberation from his pain, braced in fear that the strike wouldn’t come fast enough. Water doused his head as more shouts sounded. Thomas screamed. Eadward’s body jerked off of Hugh, releasing the pressure on his stomach, but the creature’s gnawing head was still in place. Then, a fiery heat cut through his arm as Thomas didn’t stop the swing of the blade in time.
Dizzy, Hugh opened his eyes to see Geoffrey pulling Eadward’s head from his neck only to toss it into the flames. He heard the horses being led to safety, or was that pounding his own heart in his ears? He couldn’t be sure.
“Blessed Saints, Hugh,” Thomas said at his side, trying to hold the wound on Hugh’s arm as he dragged his brother out of the burning stables into daylight.
Hugh tried to answer, but it was too hard. Though he could hear, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t see what was happening around him.
“Easy, brother,” Thomas said, his voice strained, “remain with us.”
William moaned before taking long, deep breaths as he opened one eye. The chamber was dark and quiet, and an uneven surface jabbed against his back, uncomfortable but not unbearable. His body felt heavy, pulled, and it took a moment before he realized he hung from chains along a damp stone wall.
A prisoner? But whose?
His first thought was the giant, Lord Angus. While he slept, William dreamt of the giant’s daughter, his mind stuck in a continuous loop of memory as their time together started and ended only to start again. As far as dreams went, it wasn’t a horrific one for he had found pleasure in her arms, though their time together didn’t end well. Lord Angus hadn’t been happy to discover the tryst.
Did Angus find him and take him prisoner? Without light, it was impossible to tell where he was. He could very well be in a giant’s dungeon or in a farfadet’s. His feet touched the floor, but that wasn’t a clue. Aside from the darkness and the chains, his senses were almost completely deprived of any outside stimulation. All was quiet, except when he moved.
It took some concentrating, but he remembered seeing the woman with violet eyes at Bellemare. She’d been magical, of that he was sure. A magical mercenary sent to the mortal realm to bring him to justice? By the feelings in his limbs, the tingling knowledge that magic surrounded him, he knew he’d been brought back to the immortal realm.
“Light. I need light,” he said to himself, racking his brain for the right spell to use. William struggled with his chains, but they were too secure. He doubted mere strength would free him of them. Looking around, he couldn’t see anything in the pitch black. He sighed heavily and called out, “Ho! Does anyone there remember the sp
ell to make light?”
Thomas paced outside his brother’s bedchamber. Even though it was daylight outside, the hall was dim. The faint sound of a bell ringing followed by Hugh’s weak cough made him stop his pacing so he could lean his head against the door. The physician had shooed him from the room as he worked applying herbs, burning incense and placing holy relics along the chamber to incite a recovery.
William was gone, completely disappeared. Word of Hugh’s illness had spread, inciting a panic within the population of Bellemare. Charms were carried and placed through the castle and grounds. The small chapel was filled daily and the monk was up at all hours blessing the castle and pleading for deliverance against the wickedness that plagued them.
It had taken some doing, but Thomas finally convinced the monk that a crazed peasant had attacked Hugh and not an evil spirit. The stables had burned and any evidence to the contrary was hidden within the ashes. Though they managed to save the horses, many of the animals were ill from breathing smoke and a few were scarred by the fire. A couple of the stallions had been struck by fiery thatch from the stable roof and were in much pain. Killing horses was never a pleasant task but it was one that had to be done. Luckily, Geoffrey had taken care of the nasty business for him. Another one of the mares had lost her foal, leaving only one pregnant horse. Guards sat by the animal’s side day and night to protect her. She was one of the last to get pregnant and it would be awhile until she delivered.
At times, Thomas would almost convince himself that it hadn’t been Lord Eadward back from the dead, but then he’d see Sir Geoffrey’s face and he’d know. Geoffrey was certain that William had been eaten by the creature that attacked Hugh. With little choice, Thomas brought Geoffrey into confidence, introducing him to the magical tenants of the castle. He only hoped the man recovered from the shock. The last time Thomas saw him, he still looked pale and shaken.
Rees refused to leave Hugh’s side, though Thomas did have to warn the spright about interfering with the physician’s work. The doctor came at a high price, but Thomas did what he must for the life of his brother. He’d sell everything they owned to save Hugh.
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