by Leia Shaw
“Did you cover your castle with fairy dust?”
A sharp laugh burst from Kieran’s throat. “Fairy dust? This isn’t a Disney movie.”
“Sometimes I wonder about that,” she muttered under her breath.
Still chuckling he said, “No fairy dust. It’s made of quartz.”
“Quartz? The whole thing?” God, it has to be at least one hundred thousand square feet!
He nodded.
“Isn’t that really expensive?”
He looked at her like she’d grown another head. “It’s our home. We spared no expense.” He smiled in that charming way she was beginning to associate him with. The one that said, trust me, I won’t harm you. I’ll only try to marry you, but it will be fun, I promise. “It’s your home now too.”
Home. Did she really have one of those?
“What does it mean?” she asked. “Whatever you called it? Meadu –”
“Méadú ar Neart. It means to rise together in strength.”
Togetherness. Strength. It sounded so…not evil. “About this prophecy…” She looked down, fiddling with her hands, suddenly nervous. “Do you believe it? That I’m to unite the fae? Have you seen prophecies come true before?”
He offered her a condescending smile. “I am over three hundred years old. Of course I’ve seen prophecies come true. But not to worry, I believe you will know what to do when the time comes.”
Such a diplomatic answer. “Great,” she mumbled. “That helps exactly nothing.” Would she get no choice in the matter? Save our world, save our people, we’re all counting on you, but we have no idea how or when. Talk about pressure.
Now for the question she’d been asking herself for days. “Are the Unseelie evil?”
Kieran’s lips curled up on one side revealing a dimple she hadn’t noticed before. And there was that smile again. How could she think such a man was evil?
Don’t be stupid, she scolded herself. As Sage would say, sometimes the devil wears a three piece suit and a smile.
“You’re half Unseelie,” he answered. “Do you feel evil?”
“Of course not.”
“Do you think I’m evil?”
She thought for a moment. “Not right now, but I hardly know you.” As a second thought she added, “No offense.”
He chuckled. “What does your instinct tell you?”
“Instinct?” She snorted. “I don’t think I have any.”
“Of course you do.”
“If I did then I wouldn’t have let so many people –” She cut off when she remembered she was with a virtual stranger. “Never mind.” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Aila, you are fae. Instinct is strong within us.” His tone was that of someone speaking to a small child. “It guides us through difficult decisions. It tells us who to trust. It’s a very powerful thing.”
“See, that’s where I’ve proven you wrong. I’m entirely too trusting. I mean, look at me. I just stepped through a wormhole to another country with a stranger. And I trusted a vampire from the Underworld. A vampire!” She expected judgment. Surely he believed vampires couldn’t be trusted either.
But he wore a look of confident amusement. “Don’t confuse instinct with logic, Aila. Instinct doesn’t always make sense.”
She shook her head. That went against all her principles.
“As a fae you must learn to access your instincts and trust them, Aila. It’s one of our greatest weapons. Tell me, do youfeel safe? Here with me?”
She took a deep breath, staring at the dirt beneath her feet. Before she could answer Kieran’s body was in front of hers.
“Don’t think,” he told her, grasping one of her hands. He pressed it against her chest, holding it there under his larger one. “Here. Instinct lives here. Feel it. Trust it.”
She raised her gaze to look him in the eye. If she hadn’t just used a magical device to travel to Ireland with an immortal being, she would have thought his emerald eyes were colored contacts. No one could have eyes that pure green. They were bottomless swirls of jade with flecks of black. Pretty, but powerful. Hidden magic, more powerful than he allowed anyone to know. For a moment she was frightened. But his eyes blazed with warmth and genuine kindness.
“It tells me you aren’t evil,” she said with a relieved sigh. “The Unseelie aren’t evil.”
He smiled and her heart fluttered. Yes, he was good at hiding the true warrior he was. That smile was a dangerous weapon. “I’m glad you think so.”
They walked the rest of the way to the kingdom in thoughtful silence. When they reached the black iron-gate surrounding the castle she stopped.
“Umm…Kieran,” she said, looking down at her disheveled bloody clothing. “I really don’t want to meet your family looking like I was ravished by a vampire.”
His lips twitched in amusement. “Are you sure? First impressions are important. Might not be a bad idea to set yourself up as a badass.” At her grimace he chuckled. “I suppose I can sneak you in the back and find you some proper clothes.”
And so she let Kieran lead her into the fae kingdom, where all her dreams were on the brink of coming true.
Chapter 14
Marcelo searched desperately for his mate, spanning the entire mountain range in Colorado for three days. He didn’t have a single scent to go on. No trail. No tracks. She’d just disappeared.
“Damn witch potions!” he muttered to himself.
He’d figured out what Aila had applied on her body after she’d shot him. It was a cloaking potion. But he couldn’t fathom where she’d gotten it. Probably the same bloody fae who left her the bow and arrow. And both had proven to be his downfall that day.
On his third trek through the wooded area something occurred to him. Marcelo was running after another woman who’d left him. He slowed to a stop. First Natalia had deserted him and continued to avoid him after eight hundred years. And then Aila had done the same.
His mind drifted to that night so long ago. His beloved had not returned home from the castle where she worked as her Majesty’s favorite seamstress. The sun had long since set. The wooded trek from the castle to their simple yet contented home had been riddled with danger after dark.
Never before had her Majesty kept Natalia so late at her beckon. Resolving to find her, Marcelo had intended to mount a horse to ride through the night. But the door had swung open, and in the shadow, was his lovely bride…
He breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing her beautiful curvy body. “Natalia, where have you been?” he asked.
Frozen in the doorway, she didn’t answer. He waited for her to step inside but she didn’t move. Confused, he took her trembling hand and pulled her inside. His gaze ran over her body, inspecting her for injury, but there was no sign of blood or broken bones. When at last he reached her eyes, he saw such intense fear he cupped his big hand around the back of her head and pulled her into his chest.
“What do you fear, my love?”
He felt her sobs as she grabbed hold of his tunic with both fists. “Something…” she mumbled into him. “In the woods….” She caught her breath and exhaled slowly. Marcelo had always admired Natalia’s courage. She calmed herself and with bravery he didn’t know was possible, she told her story.
She had been walking home through the woods but the sun was still high in the Western sky. She’d been overwhelmed with the sensation that something lurked in the trees, watching her. Through the forest she could see the field where the peasant farmers worked, some of them her friends. She kept her gaze focused on them, rushing to leave the nefarious presence behind her.
Less than a furlough from the edge of the trees something had pushed her down hard onto the rough forest floor. Pinned on her belly, she felt an animal bite into her flesh. But the beast hadn’t known Natalia was a fighter. She had grabbed a stick from the ground and, as soon as it let off her body, she fought like a hellion, striking and stabbing at it. One powerful swing from the creature and she had fallen, the wo
rld going black around her. All she had seen was a tall human-like figure. When she had awoken she ran home immediately.
Marcelo listened closely, ire rising in the pit of his belly. “Where did this thing bite you?”
She spun around and fingered the back of her neck. Marcelo pushed aside her silky dark red hair to see the wound. Two deep punctures marred her delicate skin. Fury invaded Marcelo’s body as he pulled her into his embrace.
He laid her on their cot and warmed some pottage in their cauldron. He hand fed her while she trembled with a sudden chill. While stroking her face she looked at him with panic in her eyes.
“Marcelo, you don’t think…the beast…could it have been –”
“Hush,” he said putting a finger over her lips. “You know those are just stories meant to frighten young children away from the forest.”
The Tale of the Nightwalkers was a legend suspicious peasants whispered amongst themselves. Foul creatures that fed on human flesh and housed the spirit of the devil. He looked down at his wife’s usually bright, sparkling eyes. Something was changing. Her face was pale, her eyes a shade darker. Dim and lifeless. Worry crept into his heart but he pushed it back from his features. He didn’t want to scare her further.
Later that night, Marcelo shifted in his sleep and woke to find Natalia’s side of the cot empty. Fear leapt to his throat and choked him. He sprung to his feet calling her name. As he stepped into his boots to search outside, the door shoved open and a figure moved across the room faster than his eyes could follow. In the shadow was a shape that resembled his wife, only leaner, more animalistic.
“Natalia?” It was a soft question.
She stepped into the glow of the candle Marcelo had lit. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes turned dark crimson, and under her top lip were two unnaturally long teeth. Marcelo gasped and staggered back, knocking the cauldron onto the dirt floor. His beautiful wife was no more. Now this evil embodiment of her stood before him. Anger flared as he gripped the metal rod he’d used to coax a fire.
A terrible hiss left her mouth before she moved like the wind and pulled the weapon from his hand. He looked into her eyes, searching for his wife – the Natalia he knew and loved. He almost found her, deep beneath the black ire around her pupils.
“Marcelo,” she whispered, pleading. “It’s me.”
“No.” His voice was hoarse with horror. “No!” He hesitated for only a heartbeat then ran as fast as his feet would carry him into the moonlit night. Marcelo continued to run until the sun rose, then he walked through the woods until it set again.
He spent much time in thought and prayer. But he was lost without Natalia. He needed her, couldn’t live without her. It mattered not what she had become. He would take her to the priest if he must. He would guide her in the ways of God. Yes, there were options.
Even as he thought it, he knew it was untrue. He felt it deep within his soul. Nothing could save her. Just as nothing could save him.
Roaring into the night, he called to the Nightwalker that prowled there. “Take me!”
When Marcelo had returned to his home, eager to hold Natalia, to tell her of the sacrifice he’d made for her – for them, for love – she was gone.
The memory brought fresh waves of pain and anger. He’d cared for them, he’d sacrificed for them, and now he followed them with his tongue hanging out like a dog begging for scraps of attention. Growing furious at the thought he slammed his fist into a boulder and cracked it down the center. The hell if I’m going to spend another eight hundred years tracking down a woman!
But Aila was his mate. His heart beat for her, relentless, never ceasing. The need to have her in his arms, sheltered and safe, was agony.
He tried to push the pain away with anger. She had betrayed him. She had rejected him. She was probably with the goddamn fae who’d given her the bow. Gods help him if Aila had shot Marcelo, leaving him helpless and vulnerable, to run away with another male. He would kill him. He would slit his throat then rip out his heart just to be sure he was dead. Then he would take Aila some place far away from males of any species. Maybe Antarctica. He would tie her up so she could never leave him again. He broke another boulder with an agonized roar.
Dawn was approaching and he had run out of his elixir. Still he was no closer to finding Aila. He was beginning to think it was a lost cause. Perhaps the best he could hope for was that she would come back to him on her own accord, see the error of her ways and ask for forgiveness. He wouldn’t make it easy on her. No, she would have to pay.
Furious and borderline depressed, he traversed to Rheol Haearn, the Queen of the Underworld’s castle. Sleep eluded him and pacing until the next night only drove him mad. He ransacked Sage’s apothecary for a sleeping potion. Ten minutes later he was blissfully on his way to dream land.
***
Entering the Unseelie fae kingdom was like doing the time warp. Divided by castes with a king and queen given power by bloodline, Méadú ar Neart was governed like a medieval monarchy.
Aila had spent her first trip downtown looking like a gaping fish. Main Street bustled with merchants selling everything from hot dogs, to coffee makers, to magic potions, to swords and daggers. Outside the main city, houses lined up in blocks, little replicas of one another. Even the fae in the lowest castes were given adequate homes to live in, Kieran had told her, and enough provisions to survive. It was important that everyone exist in harmony and happiness. Though similar in some ways, she was glad to know the Unseelie fae weren’t too much like the barbarians of the dark ages.
Women, for the most part, wore skirts and dresses, though it wasn’t uncommon for younger girls to be seen in jeans and tank tops. But the clothing was exquisite. Somehow taking old fashioned designs and modernizing them to create a perfect blend that would be accepted in modern America but stand out at the same time. And it was equally as common to see men wearing daggers like accessories as it was to see them chatting on cell phones. The strange mix of old world and new was a mind trip.
The first two days Aila had spent in Méadú ar Neart were a whirlwind of emotion. Her heart had swelled when the royal family had accepted her with open arms.
Kieran had taken her to the fae library and give her hours to read through the history texts.
“So, I’ve found my fae spirit,” she told Kieran when he picked her up from the library. “Or whatever you call it.”
They stood by the massive hearth surrounded by shelves at least twenty feet high crammed with books, some dusty and falling apart, others still shiny and untouched. The domed ceiling was covered in paintings of a great battle. Only the fighters weren’t human, they were animals wielding human weapons, tearing each other apart. Yet within the gruesome scene was beauty. The grace in which the animals moved, the detail the painter used to portray each horrific emotion, it stole her breath away.
“But what else can the fae do?” she asked. “Besides shoot arrows really well. Oh, and climb trees.”
“Here. Read this,” Kieran said brandishing a leather bound book so delicate she was afraid to touch it. “It will answer many of your questions.”
“What is it?”
“A book of fae magic. The first book I ever read. The fae spirit within us is where most of our power comes from. It connects us to all living things. There’s a world of potential in you, Aila. This book is just the start.” He thrust the book in front of her. “I want you to have it. You need it more than I do.”
“Are you sure? It seems like it has sentimental value.”
He shook his head then smiled, that dimple melting her resolve. “It would make me very happy if you took it, Aila.”
How could she refuse that face? She thanked him and tucked the book under her arm.
“Shall we go?” He gestured to the door with his hand. “I thought we might visit the archery range. I have some tips that might improve your shooting.” He smiled down at her. “Not that you need it. You’re practically an expert already.”
&nb
sp; She was lament to leave the beautiful room. Just the smell of it alone touched something deep within her. A library was the only place where musty was a good thing. Nevertheless, she nodded and followed him into the hallway to continue her quest to find herself. A strange thought crept into her mind. Little more than one week ago she’d been hauled away from everything she’d ever known, fled for her life, confronted things that wanted to kill her, and had her first orgasm. She’d been challenged at every turn, forced to face her deepest fears only to come out on the other side stronger, better for it. Was there really anything else the fae could teach her about herself?
On the eve of the third day, the Unseelie royal family hosted a ball in honor of Kieran’s return from America. Servants entered Aila’s room in a bustle of excited energy, carrying with them baskets of items to beautify her, some she recognized, some she did not. Aila was to be debuted to the kingdom. The servant girls giggled and whispered about the latest kingdom gossip while giving Aila the lowdown on royal fae etiquette. She got the impression this was a big event. A test, even. She fought to temper her rising panic. Would she be kicked out if she screwed up? What if she ate her salad with the dinner fork? Or her dinner with the dessert fork? Oh, God, why didn’t I pay more attention to forks before now?
“You’ll be fine, lass,” one maiden told her, grasping Aila’s sweaty hands in hers. “Just smile and keep noddin’ yer head.”
She stepped into her evening gown with a sigh. Let’s do the time warp again. At least her dress was beautiful, unlike anything she’d ever seen. A lovely shade of jade adorned with gold sequence at the bust and a long sheer train. It hung on her slender figure like it was made to be there.
“You look lovely,” Kieran said as he offered his arm.
All she noticed was how perfectly her dress matched his eyes. She may have looked lovely on her own, but on his arm, she was stunning.
I guess we’re a perfect fit. She gave him a small smile. The kingdom seemed to think so.
“Gorgeous,” one woman told Kieran as they glided through the decadent ballroom.
