The Fae Queen's Warriors

by Tara West

  He arched a thick brow. “Lea is the slave child?”

  “Yes.” Her heart nearly shattered at the thought of what had become of the child. No doubt her cruel husband had already reduced her to a slave again, or worse.

  “I’ll do what I can to protect her,” he said. “I can’t protect your family, but I have heard from my sources there are others who are working to hide them.”

  A seed of hope took root. Was this man truly going to help her? And who were these others? Spies for her uncle? How much she wanted to believe him, but she was still skeptical. “What about my friend Jade?”

  “Your lover?”

  Heat flamed her cheeks. Did he know everything about her? “Yes.”

  “I can’t do anything for her, but I believe she already has people taking care of her.”

  “What does that mean? Are you a spy for the defenders?”

  “The less you know about me, the safer you are.”

  She studied the fine lines around his eyes and mouth. He was perhaps a few years older than Titus. A thin scar dissected his chin and lower lip and many more marked his hands and arms. He’d definitely seen his share of battles. Had he been sent by her uncle to infiltrate the king’s guard, or was there some other secret, rebellious force?

  “Do you know that the king and the prince are the same man?” she asked. “That the king drinks life water?”

  His eyes widened, then narrowed. “Yes.”

  “Do you know where he keeps it?”

  “I know but I can’t access it.”

  Clenching her fist, she braced herself for his reaction. “I can.”

  He turned ashen. “Show me.”

  She released a shaky breath, hardly aware she’d been holding it. “Only if you promise to help me pour it out.”

  “I swear.” He placed two fingers to his heart, which her mother had taught her was an elven sign for pledging an oath.

  Great goddess, was he Fae? She found the courage to walk past him, though she still held tightly to her shard of glass. “Follow me.”

  She took him to the wardrobe and mumbled the password. When the door opened, he followed her inside. She watched his reaction when he spotted the barrel in the center of the garden.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said, then smiled at her. “Your Highness, you don’t know how long I’ve tried to breach the king’s source of life water.”

  Her cheeks flushed when his smile widened and his pale eyes dazzled. He was even more handsome when he smiled.

  “Will you help me pour it out?”

  He eagerly nodded. “With pleasure.”

  Before she could assist him, he heaved the barrel onto his shoulder with ease, then set it on its side at the edge of the garden. Removing a blade from his belt, he ran it around the top of the barrel until the lid popped off and the contents spilled all over the plants.

  She watched the life water drain into the soil. “Will it harm the plants?”

  “No.” He shook the last of the water out of the barrel. “Life water only affects animals, humans, and Fae.”

  How did he know so much about it? “What are you,” she blurted, “human or Fae?”

  “Your Highness, I am your friend,” he said with a wink. “I always will be.” He carried the barrel over to the main water duct that ran out of the stone wall. He pulled out the piping that delivered fresh water to the plants and rerouted it into the barrel. The water came out slowly, and the wait for the barrel to fill seemed interminable. She kept her Fae-touched ears trained on the chamber, listening in case the king or another guard came in. Not that it would help them. They would be caught and no doubt put to death.

  After the barrel was full, he replaced the piping and the lid before setting the barrel back in place. He lightly rested his hands on her shoulders. “Your Highness, I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for this.”

  “As I am to you,” she answered, cursing herself when heat pooled between her legs from his touch. She was barely aware of dropping the makeshift knife as she looked up at him, wishing she could get lost in his dazzling eyes. “He still has a vial under his breastplate.”

  “I know.” He released her. “Demendia has a vial, too, but I believe this was their main source.” He glanced at the wardrobe door. “We need to leave before the king suspects something.”

  Much to her relief, the room was empty when they returned. He had her cry into a pillow while he shook the bed again. She almost wanted to tell him he could make love to her for real, but she didn’t want him to think she was a whore.

  After a few minutes, they stopped playacting, and he said, “Forgive me, but rip your gown and remove your underthings, then get under the blankets.”

  She was disappointed when he turned his back to her. She tore her gown, realizing she’d gone too far and exposed a breast. Wanton that she was, she wanted him to see her pebbled nipple peeking through the fabric but decided to shield herself with a pillow as she crawled under the sheets. “All done,” she said. “Can I ask you something?”

  He turned around, his brow drawn down as he eyed her expectantly. “What?”

  “You’re a big man,” she said. “Why don’t you kill him?” That had probably been too blunt, but considering their dire situation, she didn’t bother to mince words.

  His jaw stiffened, reminding her more of the hardened soldier she’d remembered from the coronation. “Those weren’t my orders.”

  So he was a spy for someone, but who? The Fae had been kicked out of Delfi fifty years ago, leaving behind nothing but bastard children from their illicit affairs. “What were your orders?”

  A tic worked in his jaw. It looked like he was going to tell her but changed his mind. “I can’t say.”

  “Your orders should’ve been to kill him,” she snapped.

  “I can’t do it alone. If I kill him, I have to kill Demendia and all the dr—” He stopped.

  “The what?”

  “Never mind.” He sat next to her on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. “One last thing. Scratch my face.” He turned a pale cheek to her.

  She traced his strong jaw with the tips of her fingers. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He pressed her hand to his face. “We must make this look believable, Your Highness. You need to draw blood.”

  She raked her fingers down his face, hating herself for hurting him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” His skin was warm when he clasped her hands in his. “I’ve suffered worse. Now I must go.”

  “Wait,” she cried when he released her. “I don’t know your name.”

  Red welts were already forming on his cheek. “It’s Evander.”

  “That means good man.” Getting up on her knees, she took his hand once more. “What a fitting name for you, Evander. You may call me Kyria.”

  “Forgive me, Your Highness, but honor demands I address you formally. Goodbye.” Leaning over, he brought her hand to his lips. “May the goddess protect you.” His kiss on her knuckles was as light as a bird’s wing and far too fleeting.

  “And you as well,” she said, her heart plummeting when he reached the door in a few long strides and left.

  “Evander,” she whispered, his name like warm honey on her tongue. Oh, if only their lives had been different, and she and Evander had met under better circumstances. She felt a pull toward him that she hadn’t felt since meeting Titus, Theron, and Quin. Then she remembered Evander telling her that she was being sent to the defenders in the morning. Soon she’d be reunited with the men whose friendship and love she cherished above all others. But would they feel the same way toward her, or would they eye her with mistrust and contempt, thinking her an emissary of their enemy?

  Chapter Nine

  AFTER KNOCKING HER guard unconscious with an empty water pitcher, Kyria tiptoed down the hall, keeping to the shadows and ducking into alcoves when guards went by. Keeping her distance, she followed a servant pushing a cart loaded with chamber pots. The
pots were always dumped in the sewage pipes that ran beneath the city. That’s also where slaves stayed when not on duty, forced to sleep with the stench while fighting off rats and infections. After a few wrong turns, she stumbled on the way to the slaves’ quarters, hoping to find Lea. She had to see her once more before she was sent away.

  After descending what felt like a mile of steep, narrow stairs, she was deep below the castle in a tunnel of slick gray bricks, the ceiling so near the top of her head, it felt like it was caving in on her.

  When two guards approached, she held up her hands. “Back to your posts!” she commanded indignantly. “Do not disobey your queen.”

  They nodded and hurried back down the long hallway.

  Her attention was drawn to a long row of cells. Too many slaves Lea’s age and younger, all girls, whose damp hair and clothes clung to them, revealing their almost skeletal bodies, curled up in beds made of decaying hay. The girls were dark skinned, with black hair, and some had olive skin like hers. They had been locked up like prisoners, with chains attached to their ankles. The conditions of the slaves’ quarters were worse than where her father had kept his livestock, and she wished she hadn’t seen it. It was dark and humid like a cave, lit by only a few dim wall sconces. She didn’t need to ask what kind of monster would imprison children in such a way. No act of depravity was beneath her husband.

  Cold realization washed over her. If she hadn’t been born to wealthy aristocrats, she could’ve been enslaved or worse. The thought made her stomach churn.

  “Lea,” she called in an urgent whisper.

  “My Queen!” A child stuck a grimy arm out of her cell, frantically waving.

  Her heart twisted in a knot when she saw the girl had a blood-crusted nose and grime all over her face and arms. She still wore the peach gown Kyria had given her, though it was stained and frayed at the hem. She was also alone in one cell; other cells had several girls crammed together. Lea’s isolation was just one more way to torture her.

  “Where have you been?” Lea asked.

  Kyria reached through the bars and cupped the girl’s cheek, wishing she could order her release, but where would she hide her? The king would only override her and put Lea back. Then she thought of Evander. He was Lea’s best hope. “I’m so sorry, my dear.”

  Lea’s bottom lip quivered. “Why am I here?”

  “Do not repeat what I say.” Leaning closer, she whispered, “The king is a monster.”

  “I thought he was a good king.”

  She shook her head. “He deceived us both. Listen, child. He’s sending me away.”

  “May I come with you?” Lea begged, her eyes wide and glossy, reminding Kyria of a stray kitten begging for milk.

  Kyria fought to hold back tears. At that moment she hated the king more than anyone or anything—even more than she loathed Fanfir. “He won’t let me take you.”

  Lea sat on the dirty cobblestones, the hopelessness in her eyes shattering Kyria’s heart all over again. “What will become of me?”

  Ignoring the filth, Kyria knelt beside the child. “I’m going to tell you a secret, but you must promise to guard it well.”

  A spark lit in the child’s eyes. “I promise.”

  Kyria looked over her shoulders, making sure the guards were still out of hearing distance. “Do not trust anyone in the palace except the king’s guard named Evander.”

  “Why him?”

  “Please believe me, and don’t tell anyone what I said.”

  Lea solemnly nodded. “I won’t.”

  She clutched the rusty bars. “I’m doing whatever I can to keep you safe, but if Evander comes for you, go with him. Trust me.”

  “I will.” Lea’s sweet, soulful eyes were too trusting, which made Kyria feel even more terrible that she’d failed to protect her.

  Kyria reached into the deep pocket of her robe and pulled out a sack of grapes, a loaf of bread, several slices of cheese, and a bladder filled with fresh goat milk. “Is there somewhere you can hide these?”

  “No, but I’m hungry.” Lea licked her lips and eagerly accepted the offering. “I can eat it all now.”

  Helplessness washed over Kyria as the child devoured the food as if this meal would be her last. She had a sinking feeling in her gut that it might be.

  She leaned against the bars, not caring if they left dirty rust stains on her clothes. “I’m so sorry. So very sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Lea shrugged and stuffed a wad of cheese into her mouth. “I know it’s not your fault.”

  Kyria didn’t deserve her understanding. Not when Kyria had a full belly and a soft feather bed while the child was forced to sleep on filthy straw. She jerked at the sound of heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. The king must have discovered she was missing.

  “Someone’s coming. I have to go.” Reaching through the bars, she squeezed Lea’s hand once more. After she jumped to her feet and dusted off her robe, she was overcome by guilt when she looked into Lea’s big eyes. Kyria was afraid Lea would grow to resent her if she spent too much time in her cell, or worse, the child would get an infection and die. She sent a silent prayer to the goddess that Evander could help her.

  KYRIA HADN’T EVEN REACHED the end of the hallway when she saw the giant, one-eyed, one-handed guard who’d threatened Jade and her at the temple. He marched toward her, his sharp chin jutting like the prow of a ship, his predatory gaze locked on her. Three other guards with gleaming bronze helmets and breastplates followed him.

  “You, there!” He aimed his hook at her as if he wanted to knock her head off her shoulders.

  She knew she was trapped, though she refused to cower. “You there? I am your queen, and you will address me as such.”

  The one-eyed giant had the nerve to laugh. After stopping his men with a wave of the hand, he sidled up to her, invading her personal space. “I know this marriage is a farce,” he said in a mocking whisper.

  “Farce or not, I’m still your queen,” she said, recoiling from his foul breath.

  He latched onto her arm with bruising force. “The king sent me to find you.”

  “And here I am.” she spat, trying to shake out of his grip.

  He dug in harder, his grimy nails pressing into her skin. “Did you enjoy getting fucked by Evander?”

  “You’re a pig,” she snarled and flinched when he ran his silver hook across her sore bottom lip.

  “He didn’t rough you up enough,” he said. “You’re lucky the king didn’t choose me. You wouldn’t be able to walk right now.”

  She stared into his one eye and saw a cataract forming. Good. Soon he’d be blind and wouldn’t be a threat to anyone. He probably already had limited sight in that eye. “Get your hand off me.” She shook her arm harder this time, pleased when he released her.

  But he snatched her hair and pulled her against him. “Now that Evander’s broken you in, maybe I’ll have a go.” His breath smelled like dragon venom, filling her space like a fog. Without a second thought, she kneed him hard in the groin, moving so fast with her superior Fae speed, he had no chance to block her.

  He fell hard, cradling his privates while emitting a silent scream.

  Backing up against the bars behind her, she eyed the other guards, who all had their hands on their swords. Balling her hands into fists, she ordered. “Stand down, men. I’m no threat to you unless you’re a threat to me.”

  To her relief they relaxed, then backed up several steps, some going so far as to shield their crotches. She fought a smile. Let her be known as the ball-busting queen. They’d think twice before bullying her.

  “Move aside!” a shrill voice commanded.

  Little girls dove into their beds of hay or hid in the shadows of their cells. What had Demendia done to make them all frightened of her?

  The guards parted, revealing the evil bitch dressed in a deep green satin gown with a matching cape clasped at the neck with a gold dragon brooch. As always, one hand was in her pocket, the other clutching a brown
gnarled stick about a forearm in length. Her father had once told her mages carried sticks they called wands that had the power to harness dark magic.

  “Get up, Brutus!” The mage sneered and kicked the one-eyed guard in the ribs.

  He curled into a ball like a frightened beetle, emitting a high-pitched squeal.

  Demendia’s accusatory gaze shot to Kyria. “What did you do?”

  She feigned indifference though her heart was pounding so fast, she feared it would beat out of her chest. “I wasn’t about to let him rape me.”

  Demendia laughed. “Couldn’t resist visiting your precious slave girl?” She pointed the wand at Lea’s cell. “Do you like her new living quarters? I picked it out myself.”

  Kyria didn’t dare risk looking in Lea’s direction, and she prayed the child was hidden in the hay. “Punish me however you like, but leave the girl out of it.”

  Demendia’s bottom lip hung down in a pout. “But torturing children is so much fun.”

  Anger shot through her like a rush of venom. “Why are you such an evil bitch?”

  Black lines shot from the corners of her eyes as if her skin was sprouting dead ivy. Raising a hand, she chanted something in a foreign tongue and aimed her wand at Kyria’s chest.

  Kyria ducked when black smoke shot out, but it twisted around her neck like a rope, choking her. She fell to her knees, yanking at the noose to no avail. Demendia’s shrill laughter burrowed under her skin like rabid maggots. Gasping for air, she fell on her back, vision tunneling.

  “I could kill you.” Black smoke poured from Demendia’s nose and mouth, the whites of her eyes fading to gray. “But my king would not be pleased.” With a flick of the wrist, she released her magical hold on Kyria’s neck.

  Kyria rolled onto her side, her chest burning as she filled her lungs with air.

  “You will never best me, Fae.” The mage knelt beside her. “You are a tool to be used and discarded. You will be forgotten in the blink of an eye, while I will live forever.”

  Demendia stood, the guards hanging back like frightened children. “Take her to my king’s chamber, and don’t let her escape again.”