“They like scaring everyone.” Halton nodded in agreement.
“They do kind of scare me,” Gorman gave a weak laugh, “but just a little and only if they scare you.”
“Me? Nay, I am not scared of goblins.”
“Aye, me neither.”
“Where is my sister?” Thomas interrupted, having heard enough of their bickering. There was no time for this nonsense.
“Oh, well.” Halton puffed out his chest at the tone. “This way.”
“Do you hear the manners on that one?” Gorman whispered, though he was hardly quiet about it. “Methought he was the nice one.”
“Nay, that was the earl. The earl was the funny one.”
The two sprights led the way down the hall. Thomas kept an eye out for goblins. As they neared a doorway, the cryptic sound of laughter filtered over them. He was led into a great hall, Merrick’s hall. Now this place he recognized, only it was fuller than he remembered. Small, withered looking creatures fell over themselves in merriment, the source of the sound.
“Ack, goblins,” Halton grumbled, waving his hand at a low table full of the shrunken creatures. The tables were filled with bowls of live bugs and rotted vegetables. Thomas got a whiff of the stink and wrinkled his nose. At the end was a giant goblin, one much bigger than the others. A smaller, wrinkled goblin sat on the big one’s shoulder.
Five giant fireplaces burned along the walls and giant Corinthian columns stretched up to the ribbed vaults of the ceilings, blocking the front of the hall from view. Thomas stepped forward, seeing an empty throne near the front. Keeping his eye on the creatures to make sure no threat arose, he grimaced to watch one suck a small, wiggling snake between his lips and swallow.
“Sir Thomas.”
Thomas’ head whipped around to the throne to see King Merrick now lounged where before it had been empty. Dark red tapestries had appeared behind him and he held a silver chalice in his hand, lifting it to sip from the cup.
“King Merrick,” Thomas bowed in respect. “I was not expecting you to be home.”
“Oh?” Merrick arched a brow. Suspicion lined his gaze. An upturned collar framed his face, reaching back behind his head, and leather bound back the locks of the king’s unfashionably long blond hair, winding down the length from his temples to just above his waist. There were purple streaks in the blond, matching the embroidery on his black overtunic. “And where did you expect me to be if not at home?”
“With the war…” Thomas cleared his throat, not wanting to get into it. “I have come to speak with my sister.”
“Juliana is busy now,” Merrick said. The king’s dark gaze pierced, hard and unforgiving. He was tan and, except for his clothing, he looked human. Thomas tried to see what Juliana did in the Unblessed King but it was difficult. The king was a very powerful man, but surely it just wasn’t his power that drew Juliana. There had to be more. “We were not expecting you. As to the war, it is everywhere, as am I.”
“Magic.” Thomas nodded. It was hardly comforting knowing the king could be several places at once. Or was Merrick just claiming as much. It was hard to know what was true and what wasn’t when it came to him.
“How have you been, Sir Thomas?” Standing, Merrick dropped the chalice. It disappeared before hitting the floor. His tunic was overly long, reaching to his feet. It was split open along the front to show black breeches and boots. The undershirt was royal purple, showing through the cross laces holding the tunic together over his chest. “You look better than when you left.”
“Thank you,” he answered.
“No effects?”
“Pardon me? Effects? You mean from the injury?” Thomas shook his head. “Nay, none that I know of. But, I never did get a chance to thank you for saving my life.”
“You do not remember what happened, do you?” Merrick asked, tilting his head in question.
“Aye, I do.” Thomas nodded. “I was injured in battle. You brought me here and I recovered. You saved me.”
“Hmm,” Merrick mused thoughtfully.
“That is what happened, it is not? Is there something I should know?” Thomas wondered about the look Merrick tried to hide.
“More or less, that is what happened,” the king said. “And I did not do it for you. I did it for your sister.” Merrick glanced over to his goblins before adding, “Because with you alive, she causes me less aggravation.”
Thomas glanced back to the table. The goblins ignored them.
“She will want to see me,” Thomas insisted, walking toward the king. Dark laughter rang over the hall and he again glanced back to see the goblins now watching him. Halton and Gorman were gone. “It is about our brothers.”
Merrick shook his head. “She is not here, but I will tell her you came to see her. She will contact you when she is able.”
“I must see her.” Thomas thought of the message vial. Something had been in his sister’s eyes when she made it. Juliana never talked like that. What was Merrick hiding from him? “Where is she?”
“She is the queen, we are at war,” Merrick said. “I have her somewhere safe.”
“And her child?”
“Our child is with her.”
“And where is that? Why will you not tell me?” Thomas wondered at the tone. Merrick didn’t hint what the child was, neither girl nor boy. It would seem a new father would show more enthusiasm for his firstborn. “What are you keeping from me?”
“If you must know, she is in the garden, surrounded by a maze you will never get through, protected by thorns as sharp as a sword blade that will slice you to pieces if you were even to try.” Merrick sighed, sounding bored. “And, before you ask, Juliana will not be coming out anytime soon nor will she be receiving guests or messages other than the ones I give her. I do assure you, she is very safe where she is.”
Assurances from the king of all that was unblessed did not comfort him. Mayhap Hugh had been right about the king. Mayhap Merrick was not to be trusted. What did they really know about Juliana’s husband? It was clear the man wasn’t going to let him talk to her. Thomas wanted to see his sister. He wanted his family.
Another loud shout of laughter sounded from the goblins. One of them yelled as fire sped by Thomas from behind. It was a ball of flames, flying through the air. He jumped back, turning to see a flaming goblin running toward him. The creature veered, heading back to the table only to dive into a bowl of slime.
Merrick sighed heavily and lifted his hand. A large transparent wall suddenly appeared between them and the goblins, blocking the noise out completely. The creatures rolled on the floor in laughter as the charred goblin pulled himself off the tabletop.
“Perchance, I may be of assistance, Sir Thomas,” Merrick said, drawing Thomas’ attention back to him. “What has happened to your brothers?”
“A woman with violet eyes took Hugh. William is missing and we suspect the same woman took him. Lord Eadward walked amongst us at Bellemare, but he was not alive.”
“Hugh and William are missing and yet you are here.” Merrick’s gaze narrowed, suspicious. “Safe.”
Thomas was not sure he liked the way the king said the words. There was something musing and cryptic to them. He stepped closer to the throne, lowering his tone to plead, “Can you help me find my brothers? Do you have the power to see them? Can you cast a spell or use your magic to find them? Please.”
“Mia,” Merrick said.
“Mia?” Thomas shook his head, confused.
“King Lucien’s slave. I believe he said her name was Mia. She is a nymph with violet eyes. Though, hers are not exclusive to that color, she is the most logical choice.”
“Is her hair dark as well?”
“Aye.”
Thomas felt as if the room was caving in on him. Lucien had William and Hugh? It was his worst fear. “What does Lucien want with us?”
“Your souls, I would imagine. That is what demons do. They feed on souls. The more pious the soul, the more powerful the meal. The blesse
d Lord Bellemare’s soul would make a fine trade for a Damned King, as would William the Wizard’s.”
“You have to help me,” Thomas insisted. “I must find my brothers.”
“I cannot help. Not with this. Lucien and I are not…” Merrick gave a short laugh. “We are not speaking. He will not give your brothers to me, nor would he tell me if he had them.”
“There must be something you can do. Juliana would not see our brothers harmed,” Thomas charged. “If you lov—” Merrick’s hard look cut him off and it felt as if a hand strangled his throat, keeping him from speaking the words. The king’s dark gaze searched him, almost pleading with him for silence. The pressure let up and he took a deep breath before continuing. “Please, help me.”
Merrick closed his eyed briefly. Thomas realized he’d hit a sore point with the Unblessed King. His sister. There appeared to be more between the two than could readily be seen in Merrick. Mayhap the man did truly love her as Juliana claimed, despite his denial of it. Thomas had never met anyone like the Unblessed King before. He was a hard man to read.
“King Ean can track them better than I,” Merrick said at last. “I have no hold on Bellemare, nor the people within the walls. I do not think I can help you. My men are busy fighting Tegwen. I cannot fight King Lucien as well, especially not knowing where or if he keeps William and Hugh.”
“What about my sister? You tracked her.”
“She made a pact with me, thus the shift in her,” Merrick said. “With the rest of you, I cannot find you as easily. Were you nothing special, merely humans, it would not be a problem, but you are protected by King Ean. It makes it harder, especially with the magical defenses up because of the war. It is the same for Ean. He cannot find my subjects.”
“You would send me to your enemy?” Thomas asked.
“You asked for my help and I am telling you where you should go for assistance.”
“Can you get me an audience with King Ean?”
“Nay, but I can give you a guide that will take you close to his encampment.” Merrick held out his hand. A small packet appeared in it, like a pillow made of blood red linen. “And I can give you this.”
“What is it?”
“A way to reach me. Sprinkle it on yourself and I will know where to find you. But, I should warn you, it never wears off. Should you use it, you will be mine as much as you are Ean’s. You will be marked as such and those who can detect such markings will know it. Some will think you cursed. Others will believe you are loyal to me. The blessed may possibly not trust you. Ean might take away his blessing of you, though I doubt he would take it from all of Bellemare over such a mark. However, I cannot control what he does so it is possible.”
“Why would you tell me as much? Why not just throw it on me?” Thomas reached out to take the pouch. Rubbing it, he felt the inside. It was like a packet of dirt.
“Because telling you is what your sister would want me to do.” Merrick lifted his hand, swiping it to the side. The clear wall disappeared and they were assaulted with the sound of laughter. The goblins had Gorman and were dipping the protesting spright head first into a bowl of bugs. “Now, leave. Lord Kalen rides with his Berserks toward the castle. They will not greet a blessed ward of Ean’s as easily as I have, Juliana’s brother or not. I will not have my men doubting me. Go. The troll will show you the way.”
“Troll?” Thomas didn’t like the sound of that.
“Volos,” Merrick ordered. The giant goblin stood, easily towering over Thomas’ height.
“Ah, troll.” Thomas swallowed nervously.
“Bevil, come, I have a task for you,” Merrick said. The small, wrinkled goblin on Volos’ shoulder looked up. The great beast plodded toward them, carrying the smaller creature. Thomas took an involuntary step back, moving out of the troll’s direct path. He touched the hilt of his sword, drawing some comfort from the weapon, but not much. “Take him to the edge of Ean’s encampment and leave him.”
Bevil instantly gave Thomas a nasty little grin.
“Unharmed.” Merrick sighed in exasperation. Bevil’s grin fell into a pout. As if answering an unasked question, the king added, “And aye, that does mean you cannot have a taste of his flesh. I want him left intact and unharmed.”
Volos grumbled and Bevil leaned over to whisper into the big troll’s ear. The troll started to chuckle. Thomas’ gut tightened in fear. Somehow, he didn’t think he wanted these creatures happy.
“Before I go, promise me that Juliana is safe,” Thomas beseeched Merrick. “Give me your word. Please.”
“She is as safe as the Unblessed Queen can be at this exact moment.” Merrick’s words were hardly comforting. Thomas had the sense that the king hid something, but arguing with him wasn’t going to get him anywhere. All he could hope was that King Ean would shed some light on matters. “Now go. Bevil will take you through the goblin’s entrance so the Berserks won’t see you leave.”
“Tell my sister I love her,” Thomas said before turning to follow the goblins out.
“I do not know if she will hear it,” Merrick answered when Thomas could no longer hear him. He didn’t know what to make of the visit and found it very strange that Thomas evaded capture by the Damned King, yet William and Hugh were in his grasp. Still, what else could he do but look into matters? If Lucien sent Thomas to trick him, he would fail. Merrick had turned out his own brother, his flesh and blood. Compared to that, nothing would stop him from turning his brother-by-marriage away.
Letting his flesh dissolve into a fine mist, he drifted out of his hall to a crack in the floor. It was a place only his magic could pass through. Going to the darkest depths of the castle, he solidified, standing near his dungeons. Only a few prisoners were kept locked behind his walls. They’d been held since before he’d become king and were too insane to release, so there they stayed for all eternity.
A small, portly goblin wobbled by. He looked up, his eyes completely white. Werdan was the prisoners’ caretaker. Merrick ignored him as he walked down the hall. The curved ceilings were low and he ducked his head under the arched doorways. If he wanted, he could’ve made the ceilings taller by mere will, but he did not dare change a single brick. To do so would be to risk one of the prisoners slipping out of their cells.
At the end of the long hall, he came to a metal door. Lifting his hand, he started to knock, only to stop when it opened from within. An old, blind witch lived in this part of the palace—never leaving her room. The door creaked as the witch turned her face toward him knowingly. She had short white hair and a band of white material covered the empty sockets of her eyes.
“My king.” The woman’s voice was raw and grating. She sniffed in his direction. “You come for help?”
Merrick wasn’t surprised that she knew he was there. In her blindness, she saw many things. Though she could not be trusted completely, she was very powerful and worth keeping around. “Aye.”
“Oooh, aye, aye.” The witch reached forward to touch his chest. Merrick resisted the urge to pull away. The woman smacked her lips, cackling as her bony fingers patted right above his heart. “How is our queen?”
Merrick didn’t move.
The witch’s laughter grew as she patted him harder. “Oooh, broken.”
Merrick stepped back and her hand fell away. Her pleasure faded from her dry, wrinkled lips. “I am not here about Juliana.”
“But—”
“I am here to see if you can locate someone for me.” Merrick did not want the woman to utter another word about his queen. Every fiber in his being told him not to trust her with Juliana. “Can you help me or not?”
“Go away,” the witch said. “You have nothing I can use.”
“I’m sure you can think of something.” Why was he even here?
“I get more from not helping with this—much amusement.” She tried to shut her door. Merrick put his hand on the metal, holding it open. “If they die, you will have to tell her you did not help to find her brothers.”
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“I cannot find them,” Merrick said.
“Do you think that will matter when she learns you did not even try?” The witch slammed the door. Merrick hit the metal hard several times, much to her amusement. Then, growling, he waved his hand, taking away the new gown he’d given her as payment for helping to save Thomas’ life a year ago. It was replaced by the tattered, old garment she’d owned before. The witch screamed the instant it happened, her laughter dying.
“You enjoy my misery, witch,” Merrick strode away from her, “and I shall enjoy yours.”
Pleasure rippled over Lucien as he walked through the hall of his home. The faery queen had thought to use him, but he wasn’t a fool. He was the master of deceit, the king of treachery. A mere faery couldn’t best him, though he knew she’d still try.
The knowledge that Mia was chained in his bedchamber, trapped in the tight leather he liked to keep her in, made arousal flood through his veins, combining with the joy of his misdeeds. She’d hate him now because he’d made her atone for betraying him. The nymph’s treachery in sneaking off to Bellemare to warn William angered him, but it also pleased him to know that her defiant spirit wasn’t completely killed. He liked it when she fought him, but even more when she fought herself and her desires.
He thought of the faery queen, part of him wishing she would have taken him up on his offer. What pleasure it would have been to bring her low, teaching her the sin that would forever mar her and make her his ally. Her mind was close, on the edge of faery sanity. He could have forced her. The queen’s magic was down after all. He could have bent her over the throne and forced the carnal knowledge of what he offered onto her. Greed kept him from acting. Deflowering the little faery wasn’t necessarily the best use of her maidenhead, though it would have been entertaining.
Coming to the bedchamber door, he knew that Mia’s sweet body would do to ease the ache in his loins. The taste of her fall was better than any frigid queen. He threw open the door, finding her right where he had put her. Chains held her thighs open as she lay on the bed on a sea of dark brown fur. Her hands were bound over her head. Thin leather straps crossed from her shoulders down between her thighs, barely covering her nipples and doing nothing to hide the thatch of hair guarding her sex.
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