Until he knew Hugh’s fate, he didn’t feel right leaving to search for William, but the longer he waited the more he feared for William’s life. Already he had the magical creatures trying to figure out a way to get him to the Otherworld. Heinic claimed he could brew a potion but it had been a long time since he’d done so. If there was a chance his youngest brother was alive, Thomas swore he would find a way to bring him home.
Once, a year ago, when they’d asked how to get from one realm to the other so they could come home, King Merrick had told them, “Your journey begins as any other, by walking out the front gate of the castle.” Easy for the King of the Unblessed to say, he had magical powers. Thomas had ridden out his front gate many times and only once did he ride into the Otherworld—and that was with William’s help.
Thomas heard footsteps and pulled back from where he listened. Moments later, the door was opened and the physician came out. The man carried a bowl filled with blood.
“I have done all I could,” the physician said. “The wound on his neck and arm have been cauterized and I have bled as much poison as I could from his body.”
“Poison?” Thomas frowned.
“The poisons of the body. It is what causes the earl to be sick,” the physician explained, “though I would not doubt that some grave toxin seeped into his body from the injury. There are leeches on his chest above his heart. They should remain until the morrow. Then, take them off and throw them immediately into an old fire. Once the fire burns out, take the ash and bury it.”
Thomas nodded, noting the instructions.
“I must warn you.” The physician lowered his voice. “Even if the earl does heal, there is a chance he will have caught whatever madness possessed the man that bit him. I can tell by the wound that the man had sharpened teeth, not a good sign, perhaps a sign of witchery. Maladies of the mind are easily spread through bites and this one was so close to the earl’s head. We can only hope the madness did not travel up, but down to his foot or hand. Then he will only shake in the limbs from time to time but be of sound mind. If it goes the other way, I fear the worst.”
“Many thanks.” Thomas stepped back, letting the man take the tainted bowl of blood past.
Though the chamber was stifling hot when he entered, Thomas didn’t dare risk Hugh’s health by putting out the fire. The earl’s room was a large square, with the fireplace and a huge bed stuffed with straw and lined with feathers for softness. A large fur rug covered most of the stone floor. Hugh had a writing table, complete with parchments and wax. The family crest hung on one wall, matching the ring on Hugh’s finger. Pulling a red, padded chair next to Hugh’s bed, Thomas sat.
A faint odor was in the air, the smell of burnt flesh and incense. Hugh’s chest was uncovered and two black leeches sucked from him. Thomas wanted to knock them off, but had to trust the doctor knew what he was doing.
“Foolish mortal,” Rees grumbled, appearing near Hugh’s head. He patted the earl’s hair back from his face. “Hurt Lord Bellemare with his potions.”
“They are necessary,” Thomas said. “He is the best physician I could find.”
The bed linens were discolored with Hugh’s blood and the earl’s pale, unmoving body was a terrible sight in contrast to the stains. His neck and arm were bandaged with cut linen. Thomas regretted hitting him with his sword, but didn’t know how else to get Lord Eadward off. His arm had caught fire when he’d swung and someone had doused him with water to put it out as his blade made contact. It had thrown Thomas’ aim off just enough to strike his brother.
Needing something to do, Thomas went to Hugh’s trunk at the end of his bed and opened it, hoping to find an extra bed linen to replace the bloodied one. Lifting a couple of Hugh’s tunics, he felt along the edge, down toward the bottom.
“Can I be of service?” Rees appeared suddenly inside the trunk, sitting on a pair of Hugh’s breeches. Digging around, he pulled out a vial of bright blue liquid. “Huh, I wonder why he never used this. I put it right in here nice and safe.”
Thomas frowned, taking the vial. It was small, clear and cool to the touch. He lifted it to the light. “What is it?”
“A message,” Rees said, as if the answer were quite obvious.
“Like a warning?” Thomas’ frown deepened. “A warning from whom?”
“Nay, like a message,” Rees said. “From the immortal realm. Halton and Gorman, your sister’s sprights, delivered it.”
Magic.
Thomas took a deep breath and stood, moving closer to the fire as he looked inside it. Tiny bubbles floated within. He shook it, still seeing nothing. “I cannot…”
“Well, you wouldn’t like that, would you? Shaking it up and down.” Rees snorted.
“How do you read it?”
“Read? You do not read message vials, you listen.”
Thomas held it up to his ear.
“Not like that,” Rees said, jumping up to grab it from Thomas. “It is a wonder you mortals communicate at all. Here, listen like this!”
“Wait,” Thomas protested as Rees lifted his arm and tossed the vial on the stone floor. The container shattered and blue liquid spread over the stone, forming a small puddle. Smoke rose from the bubbling center, swirling until it formed the image of his pregnant sister.
“Juliana?” Thomas automatically reached for her. She looked pale and worried, her face slightly swollen from her condition, yet ever beautiful. His hand fell through her like air.
“Greetings, my brothers,” Juliana said. Her voice was like a soft lullaby, a whisper from the past. Thomas stood in front of her, studying her face. Despite the pallor, she was attractive with long dark hair and wide blue eyes. Her eyes were like looking into his own. There was no doubt of their relation, though Juliana was definitely more feminine in appearance and demeanor than her brothers. The image of her stared straight ahead, not seeing him as she looked through him. “I hope this works. With the war, it has been hard to magically get messages out of our castle without them being seen and I would not have the Blessed King Ean thinking you were helping us. I love Bellemare and know you can understand my hesitance in seeing its blessing taken away. Unfortunately, my other alternative in communication was… Hmm, let us say that goblins are not the most trustworthy of couriers.”
“Oh, aye,” Rees nodded in agreement with her. “What she means is that they have been known to eat the messages. Trust me when I tell you that is one missive you do not want delivered.”
Thomas grimaced, glancing down at the spright before turning back to his sister.
Juliana continued, “I discovered only this morning that my last two missives did not reach you. It seems the creatures I entrusted got hungry instead and it never arrived.”
“Ah, see,” Rees interrupted.
Thomas lifted his hand absently in the spright’s direction, trying to get him to be quiet. He didn’t want to miss anything his sister had to say.
“That is why I’m trying magic and intrusting this vial into the care of my sprights, Halton and Gorman.” Juliana smiled and her attention was drawn to the side. She motioned her hand for silence, just as Thomas had done, and he assumed her own sprights were trying to interrupt.
Thomas again tried to touch her face, only feeling air. She turned her attention forward once more and he stayed in front of her, as if she truly looked at him.
“I had hoped for a happier message, but I send this to warn you, my dear brothers. Something is happening here in the immortal realm. King Lucien of the Damned is somehow gaining power. I do not have proof of the how, but Merrick feels it is so and I trust him in this. I have good reason to believe that the Damned King is planning to send demons into Bellemare.”
Thomas swallowed. Her warning had come too late.
“I pray that you do not come upon them, but if you should, those that come in human form can most often be stopped by severing the head from the body or by fire.” Juliana paused, looking down to touch her stomach, rubbing it in circles. “W
illiam I am sure you know how to put protective charms around the castle. Please do so if you have not already. You might need them.”
“Juliana, what is it?” Thomas demanded, reading something dire in her expression. He reached to cover the hand on her stomach. As if sensing him, she stopped rubbing. “What is wrong, Juliana?”
“She cannot hear you, Sir Thomas,” Rees said. “It is just a record of the past, not a link to the present Lady Juliana.”
“Thomas,” she continued, “I hope every day that you have recovered from your wounds. But you were always strong. There is so much I want to tell you, to try and explain. I do not want you to worry about me. Merrick is a good man. I know what you think of him being as he is the King of the Unblessed, but he cares for me and I for him. He saved your life, Thomas, that day on the battlefield.” Juliana paused. Thomas already knew as much. “I am eternally grateful to him for that.”
“Juliana.” Thomas willed her to see him, really see him. She didn’t. It was like Rees said, merely a record of the past. He wanted to hold her close, reassure himself that at least one sibling was safe.
“And Hugh,” she sighed. “I hope that you have forgiven me for staying. Know that I made my choice and am happy in it. Whatever happens to me, this is what I wanted. You did not fail in your duty to me.”
The image dissolved. Thomas tensed, lifting his hands as if he could stop it. “Nay, wait.”
“That is it, Sir Thomas,” Rees said.
“Something is wrong,” Thomas said. “She is frightened. I could see it in her eyes. Juliana never talks like that. Something must have happened. Make it show me again. Bring her back.”
“It only works once, Sir Thomas,” Rees said. “Then gone forever.”
Thomas sank to the floor, running his fingers through his hair. Not Juliana. He couldn’t lose her, too. What was happening to his family?
A small flash appeared and Thomas automatically looked at the broken vial to see if there was more of the message. There was nothing.
“Lord Bellemare, I hate to see you like this.” The soft, feminine voice drifted over him.
At the unexpected sound, Thomas shot to his feet, turning toward the bed in the same motion. The mysterious woman with violet eyes was sitting next to his brother. She gasped, looking shocked to see Thomas in the chamber.
“What are you…?” Thomas began, ready to charge her and pull her away from his brother. She had a leech pinched between her fingers and a rivulet of blood trailed down Hugh’s chest from where she’d pulled it off him. “What are you doing? Leave him be. The physician—”
The words never finished. The woman grabbed hold of Hugh and pulled his arm against her chest. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. It was as if she said, “I am sorry.”
“Nay!” Thomas lunged on the bed, but he landed on the empty, blood stained coverlets. “Who are you? Why do you do this?”
She didn’t answer.
“Rees!” Thomas yelled.
“Aye?” the little spright said.
“Why didn’t you stop her?” he demanded.
Rees’ big eyes teared. “I cannot. I’m just a spright. I’m sorry. I cannot. I do not have her power.”
Realizing that yelling at the spright wasn’t going to help his cause, he said, “I do not care how risky the journey is, find me away into the immortal realm. Now.”
Fire Palace of the Damned
Hugh’s body burned from heat and shivered from cold at the same time. It was an odd, contrasting sensation, but the only way his hazy mind could think to interpret it. Soft hands touched his face, but he couldn’t see a person to go with them. Beneath him, his bed was hard, flat stone.
With each gentle caress the sharp pain that had wrapped him in darkness began to lessen. His neck no longer hurt and the soreness in his arm subsided. Though, deep inside, an ache remained—an ache in his soul, an emptiness he couldn’t explain.
“I did what you asked,” a woman’s voice said. It sounded vaguely familiar. “He is alive, but barely. The men of his world know nothing of healing. They have sapped him of his strength.”
“Leave us,” a deeper male voice answered. “I will take care of the rest. Queen Tania will get what she asked for, but only too late will she know at what price.”
“What are you going to do?” the woman asked. “Why have me save him, only to kill him?”
Why could not he see? Hugh tried to move, tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t. Still, he felt better as the bodily pain subsided even more.
“Do you not know me by now, Mia?” The man gave a cryptic laugh. “I am going to have my fun. Now, I suggest you leave me to it. I do not think this is anything you want to watch.”
“Lucien, nay!” the woman answered. “You do not have to do this.”
Hugh’s mind was at instant attention. Lucien? The Lucien? King of the Damned? How did that evil being get into Bellemare?
Then, remembering that King Lucien couldn’t go into the human world, Hugh was racked with fear. He was no longer at Bellemare. He was in the realm of immortals once again.
Nay! He tried to cry out. Lucien’s sinister laugh answered the thought. It was as if he could hear inside Hugh’s head.
“Lucien,” Mia begged. “Please, I just healed him. Why—?”
A sudden, sharp agony hit Hugh’s chest. He wanted to cry out at what felt to be the cut of a blade across his chest, but he couldn’t. Mia screamed, her voice growing fainter as footfalls ran off into the distance. The woman had left him alone with the demonic king. He wasn’t sure how he knew with certainty that they were alone, he just did.
“In my home at last, Lord Bellemare,” Lucien said. “How I have watched and waited for you. Open your eyes to me. Look at me.”
Hugh did, blinking in the dimmed firelight as he found the Damned King kneeling on the floor beside him. The hall was large and dark, unlike any human structure he’d ever seen in all his travels as a knight. The king’s dark face was covered in ash and dust and the black pits of his demonic eyes burned with an inner fire. There was no mistaking his manlike features for those of a mortal. Only a devil could have eyes that burned in such a terrifying way.
“I have waited a long time to have you once again in my grasp, Lord Bellemare. But I confess, this is not how I imagined our meeting again.” Lucien smiled.
Hugh moaned, trying to tell the king just what he thought of him. Lucien laughed. All around them was dark stone lit with a fire he couldn’t see from his place on the floor. The low crackle filled the silence like the pits of hell threatening to consume at any moment. Lucien sat down on the floor next to him, leaning over on one arm to lightly swing a knife back and forth in his hands.
“How the blessed do fall,” the king mused. “I look at you, in your fragile mortal body, so near death, so drained of life. What if I were to offer you eternity? What if I were to tell you that you did not have to face death or pain? That I could give you the power to take what you want, to have pleasure and flesh, to drink and kill without consequence? To keep your precious Bellemare intact and safe? And all you would have to do is ask me to give it to you in exchange for your soul.”
Hugh grunted, though in truth there was a moment in which he wasn’t sure what he would say. But, there was no way he could consider an offer from the devil. What good were all the things Lucien offered him without his soul? What pleasure was flesh without the willingness of it to be taken? What good was Bellemare without the moral code they lived by? What honor was there in killing without consequence or thought? And what good was living without the one thing every mortal craved—to love and be loved? He was an earl. He had the love of the people, the love of family, of the land of his generations past. No devil’s offer could give him that. No devil’s pleasures could honor what he had, what had been bestowed upon him by his ancestors.
The only thing he didn’t have was the love of a woman, a wife, but he had the dream of it and hope was enough to make him wait for her. Until then,
he had other pleasures—lust, laughter, companionship. Hugh thought of Tania. It was her fault that he hadn’t taken companionship lately. She’d tainted him toward others. But, he knew that her memory would fade given time and another would catch his notice.
Tania wasn’t a lady he could set above his hall at Bellemare. She had her own hall and her own land. He knew that from the beginning, from the first meeting when he’d looked at her and wanted her and she’d slapped him for daring to. Nay, never Tania for a wife. What reason was there to wish for more when it could not be? He would never consider the faery queen. He would marry a mortal, a noblewoman who loved like he wanted to love and who would honor as he honored. Like his father before him, he’d find a worthy lady to watch over Bellemare by his side, protecting the lands and the people as his ancestors had. Tania was an image of lust, a beautiful dream that would fade in the morning hours as reality took root. He was sure that when he married, his love would be born of the duty and honor of Bellemare.
Nay, the things he wanted could not be bargained for with King Lucien. The secret longing, which became vividly clear only now after Lucien threatened to take it all away, burned bright within him. He knew what he wanted, what he longed for. And it was nothing that could be found here in the realm of immortals.
“You disappoint me,” Lucien said. “What I offer is better than the love you think of. What good is love when your lady wife dies? What good is love when Bellemare’s blessing is stripped away and you are left with barren livestock and putrid soil?”
The jeweled hilt of Lucien’s knife caught Hugh’s attention. It was the dagger they’d given Juliana on her fourteenth birthday.
Juliana!
“Your sister and her husband are not here to save you.” Lucien followed Hugh’s eyes toward the blade in his hand. “Ah, you noticed that, did you? It is one of my favorite pieces. Your sister did use it after all to stop me last we all met in King Merrick’s hall. What can I say? I am sentimental.”
Faery Queen Page 6
