The Fae Queen's Warriors

by Tara West

  The horse let out an ear-piercing whinny, stumbled back, and fell on its side, kicking and thrashing.

  “Demon!” Kyria wanted to go to him, but Titus refused to let go.

  “Wait until he stills, sprite. One kick could kill you.”

  Demon’s bravery had saved them, and she hated seeing him suffer.

  “We need to get Quin,” she said. She could no longer see him, as the dragon’s prone body blocked him from view.

  “I’ll go for him.” Theron limped up to them, a large gash on his leg.

  “Here,” she said, handing her life water to Titus.

  He fed Theron a drop, and his wound closed.

  “I put a drop on Quin’s lips,” she said in anguish. “But I didn’t see if he swallowed it.”

  She wasn’t comforted by the stricken looks on Theron and Titus’s faces.

  If he hadn’t swallowed it, then he’d certainly perished after the dragon had crawled over him. She wasn’t sure if life water could bring back the dead, but she sent a silent prayer to the goddess that he’d survived, for she didn’t know if she could lose another loved one to a dragon.

  “Stay here,” Theron said to her. He cautiously approached the dragon, his blood darkening the snow as it spread. Stepping around it, Theron poked a flipper with the tip of his sword.

  Titus patted Demon’s mane, calming him before giving him a drop of the water. The horse whinnied and then sat up and shook snow and ice off his legs. Titus brought him over to Kyria and helped her into the saddle.

  “Hold onto him while I check for more dragons,” he said, stroking Demon’s side. “I need you to ride to Periculi and get help.”

  She wanted to argue, but she was no help to them here. Besides, she knew the real reason he was sending her away; he didn’t want her to see Quin.

  He walked ahead of them, brandishing his sword. Demon trotted at his heels, head twitching side to side in agitation. As they neared a bend in the road that would take them around the other side of the jagged cliff and obscure the horrific scene behind her, she heard a high-pitched whistle. Demon stopped and half turned.

  Theron was standing on top of the dragon, Quin flashing a lopsided grin by his side.

  “Wait up, sprite!” Quin called.

  Her heart soared. She wanted to jump off Demon and run into his arms. “Titus! He’s alive!”

  Titus ran back, a wide grin splitting his face when he saw Quin slide down the dragon. Quin swore when he slipped in a puddle of dragon blood but then raced toward Titus, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in his wake. They shared a bear hug, laughing and slapping each other’s backs.

  “Let’s find our horses,” Theron said as he joined them.

  “Wait.” Quin walked over to her, squinting into the sun. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. When he raised his arms, she fell into them. He smelled like spoiled fish guts and his hair was coated in dragon slime, but she didn’t care.

  He kissed her temple. “I’m alive, thanks to you. I don’t care if we haven’t exchanged vows,” he said. “You’re my bride. In my heart, we’re married.”

  Too overwhelmed to answer, she simply held him tighter.

  Chapter Twenty

  KYRIA HELD ONTO TITUS while Demon led them into camp. Defenders raced to see the severed dragon head Theron and Quin’s horses dragged behind them.

  “The dragons are here!” someone hollered.

  “The snow is still hard,” another cried. “This is a bad omen.”

  “Look who got the first kill of the season,” a battle-hardened defender with long gray hair said, spitting tobacco in the dirt and raising an arm that ended in a hook.

  They stopped in the center of camp, and Theron cut the ropes that bound the dragon’s head to the saddles while men clapped him on the back. Titus had once told her it was a great honor to make the first kill, and that Alexi had held that distinction every year while he was alive.

  Defenders heaved the head onto an altar of sorts—a flat stone slab surrounded by smaller stones. She looked away from the bulging golden eyes and long gray tongue that hung down from teeth as sharp as daggers. For a moment she felt sorry for the beast. He was doing what he’d been designed by nature to do. She thought of the king, who was far more evil than any dragon, because his selfish and cruel nature was not natural. He was an abomination, and if anyone deserved to have his head cut off and placed on a giant stone platter, it was him.

  “Send word to the general,” Titus said to one of the men.

  Then her men led the horses into the stalls and they trudged to their hut. Kyria didn’t object when Quin carried her. Hopefully people would think he was being affectionate. He set her down inside, and she had enough strength to walk to the furs, thankful she could walk at least that short distance. As long as she didn’t make sudden turns or travel on ice, she should be fine.

  Quin stripped out of his clothes, which had been battered and burned by the dragon’s venom. He stuck a finger through a hole in his shredded tunic. “Do you think one of the widows can mend this?”

  Chuckling, Theron snatched it and tossed it in the fire. “I’ll gladly give you one of my spares.” He patted Quin’s back. “I’m happy you’re alive.”

  Quin knelt on the furs and took Kyria’s hand in his. “Thanks to our clever lady for stealing that potion and alerting us to the dragon.”

  She pulled him close, not caring that he smelled like a dead dragon, and kissed him on the lips. “You’re lucky you didn’t die, because I’d have kicked your ass.” She stroked his cheek. “I can’t lose you, Quin.” She looked at Theron and Titus. “I can’t lose any of you.”

  Titus wasn’t paying attention to her. He was pacing, his face screwed up in obvious consternation.

  “What’s wrong, Titus?” Quin asked.

  Titus stopped as if he’d hit an invisible wall. “There are only two reasons the dragons come ashore—to mate or escape a bigger dragon.”

  “Dragons do not mate before the snow thaws,” Theron said. “Their eggs can’t survive the cold.”

  “That was a deep cut on his snout.” Quin said. “He was full-grown. You don’t think Fanfir is back?”

  Theron scratched the back of his head. “We haven’t seen him since we lost Alexi. I thought he....” He hesitated, giving Kyria a guilty look.

  “It’s okay,” she said, forcing herself to ignore the churning in her gut. “I’ve heard the rumors.”

  She’d heard the story when she first arrived at the temple, that Alexi had gutted the dragon on the way down his gullet, and that both had perished together, sinking to the bottom of the sea. None of this had been proven, but the rumor explained Fanfir’s sudden disappearance. Rather than console her, it horrified her to think of her brother suffocating in the dragon’s belly. She’d hoped Fanfir had instantly killed him, and it pained her even more that she’d never know.

  Titus resumed pacing, following a worn path in the rug. “The general has turned two of our ballistas toward the sky.”

  She bristled at that. They’d never cleared the air about the flying dragons, and she still wasn’t sure he believed her.

  “Maybe the dragon was confused,” Theron said.

  Quin grimaced. “I could believe that if he’d been a young dragon or didn’t have that cut on his snout.”

  An icy chill made her flesh rise. “Are we unsafe?”

  Kneeling beside her, Titus cupped her chin. “Nothing will hurt you here, my love.”

  When he brushed his lips across hers, she didn’t pull away. She was relieved he was no longer angry with her. Grabbing his wrist, she searched his eyes. “I’m more worried about you.” After the hell they went through with the dragon, she couldn’t imagine them fighting Fanfir.

  “We are defenders.” Titus jumped to his feet, averting his gaze. “Fighting dragons is what we do.”

  He had every right to be scared. If Alexi couldn’t defeat Fanfir, what chance did anyone else have? The thought made her physically
ill.

  Then she remembered the potion. Titus had given the life water back to her after he healed the horses. It wouldn’t save them if Fanfir swallowed them, but it could heal them if one of them were spit at or crushed again. She handed it to Quin. “You need this more than I do, but don’t tell anyone you have it.”

  Quin frowned down at the bottle. “Why not?”

  “Because I have seen what this water has done to the king.” A shiver stole up her spine at the memory of his cold hands and black-as-pitch eyes. She wondered if he’d always been evil or if the life water had made him that way. “People will fight you for it. They may even try to kill you for it.”

  “Then maybe we should dump it out,” Theron said, scowling down at the elixir as if it contained the plague.

  “No.” Quin clutched the vial to his chest. “What if one of us is gutted again.” Then he offered it back to Kyria. “Are you sure you don’t want to hold onto it, my love?”

  She vehemently shook her head. It was freeing, giving the water away, and they needed it more than she did. “I don’t want the king to take it when he sends for me.”

  She regretted the words the moment they left her lips, for all three became as still as statues, and the space between them was thick with tension.

  “You’re not leaving.” Titus’s command was a low, dark rumble.

  “But he said...”

  “Look at me, Kyria,” Titus said sternly. “If you’d feel better letting one of us hang on to it, we will, but you’re not going anywhere. Taking the vial from Quin, he placed it inside a chest on the mantel. He sat on the furs across from her, holding out a hand. “Come here.”

  After crawling to him, she folded herself on his lap and rested her head on his broad chest. “You’re not still angry with me?”

  Stroking her hair, he nuzzled her cheek. “I couldn’t stay mad at you for long, sprite.”

  She sighed and sank into his arms. She hated fighting with him, but an even bigger battle was looming. The king would send for her, and she’d have to choose between war and putting her life in the hands of a madman. Either way, it would put her and her loved ones in great peril. She hated herself for thinking so selfishly, but if Titus refused to let her go, she wouldn’t have to choose.

  She savored being wrapped up in Titus’s warm embrace, melting into his arms like warm honey when they were startled by a loud knock on the door.

  “You’ve been summoned by the general,” someone boomed.

  Titus and his brothers shared dark looks. “We knew that was coming,” Titus said.

  Her heart sank to her stomach. She was sure she wouldn’t like what her uncle had to say.

  KYRIA WAS PROUD OF herself for walking all the way to Anton’s quarters and only slipping a few times. Perhaps the old mage was right and the curse’s roots weren’t as deep. By the time she reached her destination, though, her legs were unsteady, so she sat at her uncle’s table while he lavished praise on the defenders.

  “Your first kill of the season,” he said, beaming. “Well done.”

  Standing at attention, Titus’s face was granite. “You’re not alarmed he’s early?”

  His expression soured. “A mature dragon knows better than to come ashore now.”

  “And the ballistas?” Titus asked.

  “I’m moving them back to the cliffs until the threat of Fanfir has passed. We’ll triple the watch. You are hereby relieved of watching my niece. We need you to man the battlements.”

  “What?” Kyria shot up from her seat. Where would she stay? Would her uncle send her back to the king?

  Quin glanced at her, eyes wide with alarm. “One of us should stay with her.”

  “I cannot spare a single defender. She’ll stay with me.”

  Titus cleared his throat. “But—”

  “You think I can’t keep my niece safe? I was protecting this girl long before you knew her.”

  Kyria stiffened at the way he’d said “this girl,” as if mentioning her left a sour taste on his tongue. Was she that much of a burden to him?

  Titus cleared his throat. “Yes, but—”

  “Assemble the men, Commander Titus.” He ended on a snarl.

  Titus widened his stance, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword while Theron and Quin mimicked his actions.

  Kyria didn’t want them defying orders over her. Her uncle might discipline them harshly if they didn’t back down.

  “I will,” Titus said, “but I must have your word you will not send her back to the king.”

  “She is a married woman.” He chuckled. “If her husband sends for her, I cannot force her to stay.”

  Titus stepped close enough to run a sword through Anton’s gut. “Then we will not leave her.”

  Aw, dragon balls. They were about to get in so much trouble.

  His cheeks flushed crimson. “You would fight me over this while Fanfir is circling our waters?”

  “I would fight you if Fanfir was banging down our doors. He will kill her, and you know it.”

  Much to her surprise, Anton stepped back, shoulders sagging. “Very well, I give you my word. I will not send her back.”

  She couldn’t believe it. Her uncle was willing to risk a war with the king’s army despite the threat of Fanfir? Had he lost his mind or was he lying? She shot him a pointed look and was not comforted when he looked away.

  “Thank you, General.” Snapping his heels together, Titus bowed, Theron and Quin following suit.

  Titus turned to her, holding out his arms, and she tripped toward him, grateful when he caught her. She didn’t care that her uncle was watching. She kissed him passionately and then Theron and Quin, too.

  “Kyria,” Quin said as he rubbed warmth into her arms, “stay here until the danger passes.”

  Bitter laughter escaped her throat. “Where else would I go?” She looked up at him with pleading eyes, and then at Titus and Theron. “Please be safe.”

  Theron slanted a smile. “Of course, we will. We have loving arms to return to.”

  “We will come for you when our shift is over,” Titus said.

  “Okay,” she said, fighting back emotion when Quin led her back to the chair, helping her sit while kissing the top of her head.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  She clutched his tunic. “And I love you.”

  After they left, heartache threatened to overwhelm her. This was really happening. They left her to possibly battle the beast that had eaten her brother. How many more men would Fanfir devour before he was stopped?

  KYRIA KNEW SHE WOULDN’T get sympathy if her uncle saw her cry. She did her best to hold back her tears.

  Her uncle’s servant poured her a steaming cup of tea. “Never fear, my child. Love is man’s greatest strength,” she said with a wink.

  She smiled at the older woman. “Thank you.”

  “It’s also his greatest weakness,” Anton grumbled, hovering over the woman like an angry bear. “Leave us.”

  The servant gave him a sour look and stormed out of the room.

  “I think you upset her, Uncle.” Kyria eyed him suspiciously over the rim of her tea cup.

  His expression remained cold. “The king has sent for you.”

  She nearly choked on the tea. No! She set the cup on the table with shaking hands. “What are you going to tell him?”

  He gave her a long look, his expression one of guilt.

  Kyria didn’t know if she wanted to scream or cry. Balling up her fists, she fought the urge to punch her uncle in the face. How could he do this to his own flesh and blood? “You gave Titus your word.”

  “I said I wouldn’t send you back, and I won’t.” His features could’ve been carved from granite. “You must go of your own volition.”

  Fear gripped her spine. “I can’t go back to him now.” She had always known she’d have to return to the king, but she wasn’t ready, and she didn’t think she ever would be. Was it too much to ask him to delay her leaving a month?


  Her uncle threw up his hands, his cheeks turning as red as Mt. Olion’s lava. “Do you think my men can battle Fanfir and the king’s army?”

  “Give me time, Uncle. Demendia cursed my feet, making it hard to walk. Give Euclid a month to heal them, so I can have a fighting chance against my husband.” And have more time with my defenders, she thought to herself, though deep down every day spent loving them would only make it harder for her to leave.

  “That old crackpot,” he said and snorted. “He won’t heal you.”

  Bone-crushing sorrow pressed down on her chest. Her uncle had made an oath, knowing he would break it. Titus would be furious. “They won’t stand for this.”

  “I know that, which is why you must go quietly now.” He jutted a finger toward the back door, as if he was sending away a stray dog. “I don’t want to throw them in the brig when they try to stop you.”

  Her uncle was heartless, evil, or both. One thing was certain: he was no leader. “You’d do that?”

  He appeared to age ten years, the creases in his face deepening like cracks in the ice. “I’ll have no choice.”

  “Titus won’t go to the brig. He’ll die fighting for me.”

  He grimaced. “I know.”

  Yet he was still prepared to discard her, throw his only niece to the wolves.

  “The king will kill me.” She had no idea why she was arguing with him. Judging by the look in his eyes, there’d be no convincing him. And if he did let her stay, then what?

  “He won’t.” He pulled a scroll from his cape. “It’s my pledge of fealty to our queen and our promise that should any harm befall you, we will wage war against Delfi.”

  As if the king would care about a threat from the defenders. If he’d been concerned about their opinions, he would’ve given in to their demands long ago.

  The sting of betrayal hurt. “I thought you loved me.”

  “Kyria,” he said as if speaking to a child, “if you don’t go back, he will kill your friends and our family.”