The Fae Queen's Warriors

by Tara West

  “Uncle!” Trudging forward, she wagged a finger while praying her legs held out. “You have lost your mind!” She was so angry, she saw red. It was bad enough that he showed no concern for her, but to treat the defenders this way was unacceptable.

  “Your lovers attacked their general and disobeyed orders.” He pointed to a large bruise under his eye.

  “Because you broke your oath! How can you do this? Have you no sense of decency?”

  Titus said, “We will throw down our swords and face trial on two conditions.”

  “I don’t negotiate with traitors,” Anton snarled.

  Ignoring him, Titus continued. “Kyria stays in Periculi even if the king sends for her again, and you will not harm her while she is in your care.”

  “You think I’d hurt my niece?”

  Titus swept an arm toward the blood-soaked ground. “The carnage speaks for itself.”

  “She will be safe in my care. You have my word.”

  “As if we’d take your word,” Theron said, and the three of them laughed.

  “But this time he gives it in front of many witnesses,” Titus said and threw down his sword. Theron and Quin followed suit.

  They couldn’t let themselves be arrested. “Oh, Titus!” she cried, and turned to her uncle. “This isn’t right!”

  He held up a silencing hand. “Quiet, girl! We’ve had enough trouble on your account.”

  Fucking prick! The king’s deception she’d expected, but to be betrayed by family was beyond cruel.

  “Be calm, sprite.” Titus took her chin in his hand. “Enough blood has been spilled this day. We will not fight our brothers.”

  She clutched his collar. “I know, but it isn’t fair.”

  “Justice will prevail,” Titus whispered.

  “I hope so.”

  Even more worrisome was that Marcello refused to drop his sword.

  “Drop your weapon, soldier,” Anton commanded.

  Marcello twirled the blade like a baton, a wide grin splitting his face in two. “Come and take it.”

  Uncle Anton gestured to his soldiers. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  Three men dismounted, and Kyria could tell they did not wish to follow the general’s orders.

  Would he risk bloodshed to prove a point? Marcello wasn’t his enemy. Uncle Anton wasn’t much better than King Milas. The realization was soul-crushing. She’d idolized him as a child. So had Alexi.

  “We will request a tribunal,” Titus said. “I’m confident once the truth is revealed, our brothers-in-arms will grant us pardons. You broke your oath, General. By law you also must stand trial.”

  The three defenders who were advancing toward Marcello stopped, conferring among themselves.

  “You ungrateful, worthless traitors!” Anton flushed crimson. “This is what I get for trying to keep my soldiers safe.”

  Titus shrugged, holding out his hands when two defenders approached him.

  We’re sorry, one mouthed to him.

  “He’s gone insane,” another said.

  “I know, brothers,” Titus whispered, “but we will let the law take care of him.” Titus kissed her one last time. “Stay strong, sprite.”

  Her heart broke all over again.

  The soldiers led him to their horses with a light touch. She quickly kissed Quin and Theron before they were taken away in turn.

  The three defenders who’d been told to apprehend Marcello backed up several paces when he refused to drop his sword. Tipping an imaginary cap, he jumped on a horse and slashed through the rope keeping it tied in place. It reared and bolted into the forest.

  The three defenders heaved sighs while wiping sweat off their brows.

  “After him!” Anton yelled.

  They strolled to their horses and gently prodded them forward. She smiled. Even if they wanted to catch Marcello, he had too much of a head start.

  Anton waggled his fingers while giving her a look that would’ve made a lesser woman crumble. “Come, Kyria.”

  She sat on the bench. “I’m not going with you.” Her legs were tired, and she was too furious to even look him in the eye. After seeing his sinister side, she had no desire to be alone with him while he awaited trial.

  “Niece,” he warned. “I will not ask you again.”

  “Kyria,” Titus called. “Go with him. It will be over soon, I promise.”

  She stood reluctantly, frowning at the bodies strewn in front of her, and shrieked when a hand grabbed her ankle. Titus, Theron, and Quin broke away from their captors and raced toward her, but Anton got there first, jerking her out of Ergor’s hands, then falling over with a grunt when Ergor shoved his sword into his stomach.

  Her life flash before her eyes when Ergor kicked her uncle out of the way and faced her with blood dripping down his blade, a malicious gleam in his eyes. If her ankles worked, she could easily have danced around him, but she was rooted to the spot.

  Titus lunged for him. There was a brief struggle. Steel flashed as it sank into Titus’s abdomen. Her legs collapsed, and she dropped to the ground with a silent scream.

  Quin grabbed Anton’s sword and lopped off Ergor’s head. She was too horrified to move when his severed cavity spewed blood before toppling.

  Throwing herself on top of Titus, she pressed on his wound, trying to stop the bleeding. It was no use. Blood flowed, dripping on the packed snow beneath them.

  “Sprite.” He wrapped a hand around her wrist, flashing a pained smile. “Thank you for teaching me how to love.”

  “Shh, don’t talk.” She tried not to dwell on this being the closest to a declaration of love she’d ever get from him as she pressed harder on his wound, dismayed when more blood pooled up as if she’d struck a spring. She turned pleading eyes to Quin. “Where is the life water?”

  He fell beside her, his tanned cheeks turning ashen. “Back at the hut.”

  “We must hurry.” Desperation punctured her words. “Please help me carry him.” When Titus’s eyes closed, she let out a shrill cry. “Don’t you dare die on us.”

  Theron knelt across from them and checked Titus’s pulse. “He’s fading fast.”

  “We won’t make it back to Periculi in time.” It was Marcello who spoke, appearing out of nowhere.

  She glanced up. “You came back?”

  “I won’t leave you, Your Highness, until you’re safe.” He pulled a small vial from under his breastplate and handed it to her.

  “Is this...?”

  “Life water,” he said. “Hurry.”

  She quickly unscrewed the cap with a trembling hand and tipped one drop of water into Titus’s mouth at the moment he expelled his last breath. Had she been she too late? She capped the bottle and sat back on her heels, holding tightly to his hand, hoping, praying, he’d come back to her. He was eerily still and his hand was too cold.

  After waiting for what felt like an eternity, his eyes opened and he sat up with a gasp. “Sprite!” He wrapped his arms around her.

  “Oh, Titus!” She sobbed grateful tears into his hair, rocking him while he clung to her waist.

  Quin and Theron joined the hug, squeezing until her lungs constricted, but she didn’t mind at all. What mattered was that Titus was alive and her defenders were safe and whole.

  She mouthed her thanks to Marcello, smiling when he tipped his helmet to her.

  Titus pulled her into his lap, and she plastered his face with kisses. “Oh my love, my darling!”

  “Easy, sprite.” He chuckled. “We shall celebrate our reunion later,” he whispered. “But now I have a score to settle.”

  Cupping his cheeks, she looked into his eyes, unnerved by the firestorms she saw brewing. “No scores,” she begged. She suspected he’d go after the king, but now was not the time. Besides, she’d seen enough bloodshed for a lifetime.

  “WILL LIFE WATER HEAL the dead?” Kyria asked Marcello.

  Titus bristled when Kyria touched the Fae soldier named Marcello’s wrist in a too familiar gesture.
Marcello had to be Fae, and not just because he carried the lifesaving elixir. His speed on the battlefield had been impressively fast. Titus had only known one other to fight with such stealth, and he couldn’t help feeling jealous.

  The look of adoration Marcello gave Kyria made Titus want to rip out his throat. If the Fae hadn’t just saved their lives, he would’ve done exactly that.

  The Fae touched her hand as if they were lovers. “Your Highness, life water will not bring them back but turn them into unholy monsters. I’m sorry I can’t save your uncle.”

  “I understand. Thank you for saving Titus.”

  His smile thinned as he looked at Titus. “Of course.”

  Titus could practically feel the tension radiating off Theron and Quin’s skin as they glared at Marcello. Quin wrapped a protective arm around Kyria’s shoulders and maneuvered her until she was forced to let Marcello go.

  Marcello’s face fell. Yes, he was in love with Kyria. Damn that Fae. He would have to love her from afar, because she was going back to Periculi.

  He struggled to his feet, refusing Theron’s help.

  “Titus,” Kyria said. “You must rest.”

  “No time.” He surveyed the battlefield, Theron at his side. He recognized two defender casualties as fellow commanders. That left only two other living commanders. Sadly, he felt no deep loss for General Faustus. He had brought about his own demise and his deception almost cost Kyria her life. He thanked a fellow defender, who handed him his weapons.

  “The king has sent a message.” Titus said and raised his sword high. “And we should answer.”

  There were hoots and hollers and much clanking of swords against shields. A few chanted “General Titus” and others followed suit. Soon their cheers echoed through the forest, and that’s when Titus knew he would succeed Faustus.

  After directing the removal of their fallen brothers—five in all, plus Kyria’s servant—he returned to Kyria, who was being closely guarded by Quin and Marcello. They were all standing, and Quin held Kyria up with an arm around her waist.

  Something in the way the waning sunlight reflected off Marcello’s sand-colored hair triggered a memory. He’d seen this Fae before. “I owe you a life debt for saving me.”

  “Just keep Her Highness safe,” Marcello said and sheathed his sword, “and we’ll be even.”

  “I recognize you.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Marcello. “We fought you at the pass of Thermapolis.” Damn that Fae! If Kyria hadn’t rescued them, they might have died in that bird cage.

  Marcello flashed a confident grin. “We did.”

  He rubbed the side of his head. “You butchered my ear.” One more reason not to like the Fae.

  “It was not my intention.” Marcello didn’t look the least bit contrite. “But you’re fiercer than I anticipated and strong for a human.”

  “It is you!” Quin scratched the back of his head. “One minute we were sparring, and the next we were in a giant bird cage. How did you do that?”

  “Scyllashade,” Marcello said matter-of-factly, as if they were supposed to be familiar with Fae magic.

  Though Titus didn’t know how much of it was true, he’d learned of the Fae from his former master. They brewed magical potions using herbs. Some of them healed the sick and gave older men stamina, but others were dangerous, even deadly. He’d grown up prejudiced against these mythical beings until he’d befriended Alexi.

  “I recognize that yellow powder.” Kyria pointed at the headless corpse of the soldier who’d killed her uncle and nearly killed Titus. She clasped Titus’s arm. “You had the same powder on your clothes when I saved you.”

  “A sleeping herb.” Marcello chuckled. “We blew some on you, and you passed out.”

  Titus was still not sure if Marcello was friend or foe. “Why?”

  “We couldn’t risk battle between the defenders and the king’s men.”

  “We weren’t there to fight,” Theron said. “We were doing reconnaissance.”

  “If the general’s nephew had been killed or taken prisoner,” Marcello answered, “it would’ve led to war.”

  Titus was becoming more suspicious. “Why do the Fae care about our wars?”

  Marcello smirked, his attention dropping to his hand on the sword hilt. Marcello obviously wasn’t threatened by him, which bothered him most of all.

  “The Fae already have a plan for the mad king.” Marcello stretched, acting as if he had no cares. “We’ve been working on it for nearly two decades and don’t want the defenders ruining it.”

  “That wasn’t my question,” Titus said, annoyed. “But what is this plan?”

  “We cannot divulge it, but you will know soon enough.” He smiled and winked at Kyria, and she blushed.

  Theron swore and if Quin held her any tighter, he’d risk snapping her in two.

  “The Fae king wants nothing more than peace among our races,” Marcello continued, “but that can’t happen until the mad king is dead.”

  “Will you be returning to the castle?” Kyria asked.

  Marcello’s smile faded. “Yes.”

  Kyria gasped, her hand flying to her throat. “Please don’t. He may try to kill you.”

  “He will definitely try to kill me, but the Fae are ready.”

  Titus instantly suspected they’d been lovers and then remembered she’d been a virgin when he’d taken her. He didn’t mind sharing her with his brothers-in-arms, but Marcello presented a different kind of threat. Titus could never match the Fae in strength or skill. Then there was the threat that Marcello could take her away, far away to the Fae lands. Titus didn’t know if he could survive being parted from her again.

  “How many Fae have infiltrated the castle?” Theron asked.

  Titus forced himself to focus on the topic at hand. This Fae had valuable information they needed to know.

  “I cannot tell you, but know this,” Marcello said. “If all goes according to plan, the king will be dead before your army reaches Sawran.”

  The Fae were going to assassinate King Milas? He wanted to be angry with Marcello for stealing his glory but instead he felt a great sense of relief.

  “I wanted to be the one to do it,” he admitted. “But I will not complain if the Fae reach him first.” Protecting Kyria was his main priority, and the dragons were starting to come ashore.

  “Give the Fae a week before you march,” Marcello said. “With the king dead, Her Highness can claim the throne and restore peace to Delfi.”

  Titus recognized that adoring look again when Marcello smiled at her. Quin tightened his grip on her arm.

  “Ouch!” She wiggled free. “Easy, sweetheart.”

  Sorry, he mouthed, flushing when she kissed his cheek.

  With the mad king dead, Titus wondered, would the Fae king try to invade Delfi? If so, what made him any better? “What’s in it for your king? Why does he care what happens in Delfi?”

  “I cannot answer for him, but our king is a good man. He is not like Milas.”

  Titus wasn’t reassured when Marcello averted his gaze. “So you say, but there is a reason for his interest in humankind.”

  “My king does have an interest in protecting the queen.” The look he gave Kyria was unquestionably more than a simple crush. He looked at her with such longing, it was almost as if he worshipped her.

  “Why me and not the hundreds of other Fae who were murdered by the king?” she asked.

  “Most weren’t Fae, and none were Fae royalty.”

  Her eyes widened. “You think I’m Fae royalty?”

  “I know you are. Do you not know your heritage?”

  She looked to Titus as if he knew her secrets, but Alexi had never told him of his heritage either, just that their grandfather had been a Fae emissary.

  Kyria frowned. “My mother never told me.”

  Marcello’s grin nearly stretched ear to ear. “You are the Fae king’s granddaughter.”

  Kyria gasped and Titus swore. If he’d felt undeserving
of her before, now he realized he wasn’t fit to lick her boots.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  KYRIA CRIED AT THE funeral for the fallen soldiers and Nadia, her servant. She cried for her uncle, too, though she realized she’d lost him years ago. She wondered if he had been hardened by years of watching his brothers fall or maybe losing Alexi had stripped away his last shreds of humanity. She prayed he’d find his soul when he crossed the veil.

  Sitting between Quin and Theron, she held their hands while Titus, chosen by the defenders, led the ceremonies. If he became the defenders’ general, would he ever leave Periculi and rule Delfi with her in the capitol? After the mad king was dethroned, she wouldn’t abandon her people to live in Periculi forever. Besides, she missed Sawran’s warm breezes and mild air. The cold north winds drove blades of ice into her skin. She couldn’t imagine living here forever.

  Then there was the question of the Fae and if they planned to assert themselves into human politics after the king’s assassination. Why else would they kill him? Why, after being exiled from Delfi so many years ago, did they still have an interest in the human race? Kyria didn’t think it was only because of her connection to the Fae king. They wanted something from the humans, but what?

  Titus threw a torch onto the funeral pyre, and a burst of flame rose, licking the shrouds of the dead and sending sparks flying into the night sky. Reveling in the warmth of the fire, she knew it was wrong to take comfort from the dead but was unable to stop herself from leaning closer to the flames. It wasn’t enough to drive away the chill that permeated her soul, however.

  Titus’s face was cloaked in shadow, his expression unreadable. Lifting his arms, he addressed the mourners. “In life these dreams we make. In death our spirits wake. To the Elements we ask our souls to take. Amen.”

  She prayed Titus wouldn’t lose his compassion, as her uncle had. Of all her defenders, his shell had been the hardest to break, and he still hadn’t declared his love for her. She wondered if he ever would.