Curse of the Fae King

by Delia E Castel

  As they skinned a giant boar and prepared the fire, I ventured out to forage for something that I knew wouldn’t be a faerie the queen had cursed into a beast. Many of the plants were recognizable, such as burdock, chicory, and dandelion, all of which had edible roots I could roast. With my finds bundled in my cloak, I headed through the trees back to the clearing.

  “What is the status of the girl?” asked General Creach.

  I froze and ducked behind a thick shrub of wild roses. Was he plotting against me with Captain Stipe? Closing my eyes so I could focus on my faulty hearing, I settled into the ground. I’d have to report everything I heard to Drayce.

  But it wasn’t the captain who answered, but Drayce’s chuckle. “Her blood was powerful enough to destroy the Queen of the Banshees.”

  Blood? I tilted my head to the side. Hadn’t that been the work of the sword?

  General Creach whistled. “Impressive. She withstood the Banshee’s cry?”

  “I couldn’t take the risk,” said Drayce. “I flew her over the foothills.”

  He barked a laugh. “Deafening her with wind howlers?”

  Drayce? Having a pleasant conversation with General Creach about me? My mind blanked with disbelief, and sweat broke out on my palms. I needed every ounce of energy to focus on the conversation through the ringing in my ears. The pounding in my ears clouded their words, and I breathed hard, trying to calm my pulse.

  Maybe Captain Stipe had imitated Drayce’s voice. I shook my head. How would anyone but him know about the howlers?

  I wanted to crawl through the wild roses, just to take a look at Drayce’s expression. But I couldn’t make a sound. I would jeopardize hearing the rest of the conversation.

  “It worked,” replied Drayce. “Now that Neara has absorbed the Banshee’s dying breath, her body will be adequate for Her Majesty’s needs.”

  My breath caught. None of this made sense. I knew the queen captured males for breeding, but what would she want with the body of her own daughter?

  I leaned to the left and peeked out of the side of the shrub. General Creach clapped Drayce on the back. “Well done. With a strong vessel suited for this world, Queen Melusina will forget about the Fomorians.”

  Despair drenched my soul like a torrent of sleet, draining the blood from my face. I knelt in the fallen leaves, numb, and not quite believing what I had heard. Everything Drayce had told me had been a truth of sorts, but it had disguised one terrible lie. He’d had no intention of helping me break the curses of the four courts and no intention of helping me take Queen Melusina’s throne.

  My hand drifted to the hilt sticking out of my sword belt, and I touched the iron with the tip of my finger. It burned, and realization slammed into my heart so hard, I thought it would shatter.

  All these little adventures had been ways to make me stronger, less mortal, to hand me over to the queen like some kind of new garment. The Keeper’s ring had seeped its blood-and-bone magic into my palm. That bath had contained a powder that healed my aches and soaked into my skin. I’d inhaled the Banshee Queen’s dying breath. They could also have put anything in my food! Everything had been an elaborate charade to make me the perfect sacrifice to quell a mad Queen’s desire to unleash some ancient monsters.

  “Before she inhabits Neara’s body, I want Queen Melusina to lift my curse and return my kingdom,” said Drayce.

  “Oh?” replied the general.

  “The last time she changed bodies, it took a year to regain her magical power. After seven years of this pitiful existence, I will not wait a day longer.”

  General Creach snorted. “You’ve found the Book of Brigid?”

  “It was in Ailill’s hovel.”

  My spine curved, the weight of his duplicity too heavy to bear. He’d ransacked our home when I was unconscious and hadn’t even mentioned having found the Book of Brigid.

  “Very well,” said the general. “I will petition her on your behalf.”

  My eyes squeezed shut and hard, and angry breath seized from my nostrils. I should not have been surprised. Even if Drayce wasn’t quite a faerie, he’d lived among them for long enough to absorb their duplicity.

  “What are Lysander and Yarrow doing out there with her?” asked Drayce. “Has Stipe ordered her killed?”

  “Don’t panic.” The general’s voice rose with a good-natured lilt. “They know it’s in their interests to keep the girl alive and ignorant of her fate. Neither will interfere with your plans.”

  A lump, bitter and brittle and full of bile, lodged in my throat. I swallowed hard. It seemed that I didn’t have a single friend here among the faeries. I waited until they walked out of sight before crawling away, my ears ringing, throat throbbing with the thirst for vengeance.

  Chapter 18

  Rage seared through my veins, permeating every organ with its poison. It swirled between my ears, bellowing for revenge in time with the pounding of my pulse. I crawled out of the bushes, hating all of them, but most of all, hating myself for having believed in Drayce. If I had faerie powers, I would kill them all, starting with General Creach, then Captain Stipe and the others. Drayce, I would save for a grisly ending.

  On the ground, dried, broken branches of wild rose pricked at my palms, each sting an admonishment for having been so gullible. Father had taught me to avoid the fae. He’d urged me to make alliances with those who could train and equip me to defend myself, but the moment a supernatural being displayed a shred of vulnerability, everything I’d learned had fallen to ash.

  Pulling myself to my feet, I choked a sob. Drayce had deceived me, and the wound cut deeper than a dagger through the heart. I’d trusted in his ugliness, his loneliness, his isolation from the others, thinking he was different—somehow better than the faeries. I’d even believed him to be a victim of Queen Melusina like Father and me.

  Perhaps he was. Perhaps the Mad Queen’s actions had driven him to such desperate lengths to steal my heart and sacrifice me to her for his kingdom. I shook my head. That couldn’t be right. The plan he’d formulated to overthrow the queen might have worked if only he’d had the faith to try.

  “Neara!”

  My back stiffened. I picked at the berries on the wild rose, pretending not to have heard him.

  A hand landed on my shoulder, and I jumped. Yarrow beamed. “Don’t be so scared. It’s only me.”

  Tapping the side of my ear, I shouted, “I can’t hear anything!”

  Lysander strode out from behind a thick oak, clutching a branch of bay laurel. “What’s wrong?”

  “Neara’s ears are still damaged,” replied Yarrow.

  Lysander lowered his head to my level and said in a clear voice. “Have you finished?”

  I made sure to give him a blank look, and he pointed at the ground to the roots I had bundled in my cloak. This time, I smiled and nodded. During my foraging, I gathered herbs to season the roots I’d intended to roast, but I had enough to season the meat. I could use them to gain my freedom. Days ago, I placed the Keeper’s sting and venom sac in Enbarr’s saddlebag. If I could mix the herbs with the venom and put it in the meat, those who ate it would be dead or paralyzed enough for me to make my escape.

  We walked around the thicket of wild rose and into the clearing. By now, Drayce stood apart from the other soldiers in his pretense of being ostracized.

  His eyes lit up when he saw me, then his smile dimmed. “What’s wrong?”

  I pointed at my ears.

  His brow furrowed. “Are you still deaf?”

  As I was still pretending not to hear, I just stared into his slitted eyes. I’d come to love the way those pupils would round when he gazed at me, but I suppose that was an affectation, as well. For all I know, he could be attracted to Queen Melusina. I no longer cared.

  Drayce cupped my cheek with his large, leathery hand. “Thank you.”

  I gave him my blandest of smiles. He was just as bad as the gancanagh, somehow molding his personality to the type I would find most appealing. A bra
ve and flawed soul who wanted to avenge his father and defeat evil. He’d twisted everything he’d learned about me for his own ends.

  Now that I’d seen beneath the false facade, any affection I had now morphed into something murderous.

  “I’m going to season the meat,” I shouted.

  General Creach pulled my arm. “Corpan. Examine these herbs.”

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  The captain stepped forward and held each clump of leaves to the fire. “Sage, comfrey, dandelion, burdock, chicory … Nothing looks out of place.”

  He returned my herbs and gestured at Lysander, who busied himself rubbing oil and salt into the meat. I scurried over and picked the leaves off the herbs and placed them in a large mortar.

  “Neara, can you hear me?” Lysander asked.

  Making sure not to flinch with recognition, I continued plucking the leaves. If I raised my head, they might suspect I’d worked out their plans.

  “Leave her alone,” said Yarrow.

  “Do you think any part of her will remain after the ritual?” asked Lysander.

  “Why?” Mockery laced Yarrow’s voice. “Are you fond of the girl?”

  “Hardly,” he said. “Although she was stronger than any of the others. I thought she might not disappear.”

  “None of those spoiled wenches even made it past the Keeper. Looked like Ailill brought this one up to survive.”

  “True.”

  The hardness of their words hit like blows to the gut. Even though it had sunk into my brain that these faeries needed to sacrifice me to survive, I hadn’t expected the callousness.

  I picked up a stone pestle and ground the herbs into pulp, imagining smashing their skulls. The pair of them had been so nice to me when Drayce had been poisoned by the Keeper’s venom.

  “Do you think this one will wear out? What if Her Majesty starts talking about releasing the—”

  “Why are the pair of you gossiping like washerwomen?” General Creach loomed over us.

  I would have snorted at the general’s description of them if I wasn’t so sick with betrayal. The herb rub was finished, but I needed one final ingredient: the venom sac from Enbarr’s saddlebag. I stood and headed for the skeletal capall.

  “Where are you going?” asked General Creach.

  Once again, I ignored him, but he grabbed my arm and snatched the mortar of crushed herbs. I made sure to yelp.

  “Neara.” Drayce rushed to my side, feigned anger flashing in his eyes. He bared his teeth and growled, “Back off.”

  The general raised his hands. “She’s yours… for now.”

  “I need some water,” I headed across the clearing, around the wild rose shrub to the row of oaks where Enbarr with the other capall stood tethered.

  Since General Creach didn’t want me anywhere near the food, I needed another way to poison the guards. I could pour the venom in the wine gourd, but I wasn’t sure where they kept it. Someone would notice me rifling through the other capalls’ saddlebags, so I needed to be discreet.

  I flipped open Enbarr’s saddlebag, pulled out the Dullahan’s bone whip, and pushed it under a bush… just in case I needed it later. Then I fumbled for the piece of petticoat wrapped around the Keeper’s stinger and venom sac. It was still round and heavy with venom, and none of the silvery liquid had leaked through the cloth.

  “Enbarr.” Letting go of the poison, I murmured into the space above and behind his eye socket. “Show me where they keep the wineskin.”

  The skeleton nickered and hurried away. I made a pretense of grabbing at the saddlebags, cursing out loud as if Enbarr wouldn’t let me take the water skin.

  Some of the soldiers snickered as I hurried past. The wine gourd lay atop a pile of bedrolls, its contents secured with a cork. Enbarr stopped next to a pile of leather-bound supplies and stamped his foot. I picked up the gourd with trembling fingers that threatened to drop it and alert everyone of my plan.

  I sucked in a deep breath. If I didn’t stay calm and poison the wine, Drayce and the others would serve me up to Queen Melusina. Father would remain her tormented slave, and once she’d worn out my body, she’d eventually make another daughter to release the Fomorians.

  Both Drayce and General Creach were concealed by the wild rose shrub, and the soldiers standing around the edge of the clearing had found something else to occupy their attention. I pulled out the venom sac, crouched by Enbarr’s legs, and uncorked the gourd.

  A fruity, aromatic scent wafted out from its depths. I held the venom sac, pointing the stinger into the gourd’s opening, and squeezed. Silvery-white liquid oozed out, making a satisfying trickle into the wine. If a tiny amount of the venom had brought Drayce close to death, a mouthful would do worse to ordinary faeries.

  “Neara?”

  I jumped, placed the cork back into the gourd, and wiped the back of my mouth.

  Drayce emerged from around an oak. “What’s taking you so long?”

  I raised my shoulders and smiled.

  He tapped his ear. “I keep forgetting about your little hearing problem. Sorry I had to do that.”

  I pretended not to understand, took his hand and let him lead me back to the clearing. We sat at the foot of the only sycamore among the maple trees, watching the soldiers spar. General Creach stood deep in conversation with Captains Stipe and Carpan, presumably talking about how they’d all be safe from the Fomorians thanks to my sacrifice.

  A pit of hatred simmered in my belly. Everything made sense. The Keeper had looked astounded when I asked him for the Blood of Dana. He couldn’t give me what was running through my own veins. Drayce and the general’s conversation had confirmed as much when they had said it was my blood, and not the Sword of Tethra, that had defeated the Banshee Queen.

  I almost felt bad for her to have been used to maintain the existence of a group of corrupt supernaturals who deserved to be crushed by the Fomorians.

  Drayce wrapped his arm around my back, running his fingers down my side. My eyes fluttered closed. How could he be so gentle when he would subject me to such a heinous fate?

  I gazed into his eyes. Eyes that shone with love. Not for me, but for the promise of regaining his power and kingdom. The deception in his gaze thickened my throat, and I dipped my head. My life—and Father’ s—depended on pretending I knew nothing of his treachery.

  Drayce pressed his lips on my temple and whispered, “I love you, Neara.”

  My eyes closed, and I clenched my jaw. He’d only loved what I could do for him. He’d infiltrated my heart like a worm burrowing through an apple, eating away at me until I became hollow inside.

  I sucked in a deep breath and held it until my lungs ached. Wallowing in betrayal and pain wouldn’t help anyone. It was time to formulate a new plan. One that resulted in Father and me leaving this wretched island and starting a new, happy life.

  Digging my nails into the palm of my hands, I let out a long breath. With all three items: the book, the sword, and my life’s blood, I would find my way to Father, and we’d escape the island together. If I left now, we would reach the mortal world on time for the mist to clear and the boats to leave Bresail.

  To add to my appearance of ignorance, I rested my head on Drayce’s shoulder and pretended to doze while the soldiers set up camp. The events of the past six days had taken their toll. My gradual transformation into a creature that could no longer withstand iron had affected me on a soul-deep level, severing the connection I made with my two greatest allies: Eirnin, the blacksmith, and Reverend Donal.

  “Who’s eating?” asked Yarrow from the fire. He and another soldier sliced chunks of boar onto round, green leaves enchanted to stay hard as dinner plates.

  Lysander handed them out to all the other soldiers, and my gaze darted to the direction of the supplies. When he placed two leaves in front of Drayce and me, I forced a smile.

  I picked up the plate of six spindly roasted tubers lying beside slices of bloody, steaming meat. A fist of anxiety clen
ched my insides. This could be Prince Follum of the Autumn Court, the bronze-skinned male with the golden hair.

  Drayce’s lips grazed the shell of my ear. “Are you all right?”

  I flinched and softened the reaction with a smile.

  “Wine, anyone?” shouted a soldier with shoulder-length, indigo hair.

  His comrades muttered their agreement. Even General Creach raised his cup.

  A thrill of triumph spread across my chest, but I suppressed my reaction. Until the soldiers were paralyzed or dead with drink, I couldn’t count my victories. Instead of fretting over who would drink, I focused on my meal and endured Drayce’s affectionate touches.

  My heart made a steady, fast beat, urging the soldier to hurry and spread the poisoned wine. The male took a bite of his meat before setting down his plate and rummaging through the bag he kept at his side.

  Impatience spread across my skin like crawling wasps. Why was Drayce taking so long to fall?

  He pulled out a cup, and I leaned forward, eyes fixed on his movements. Then he crossed the clearing to where I’d left the wine.

  “Neara, you’re not eating,” murmured Drayce.

  I stiffened. Why couldn’t he leave me alone and focus on his food? I relaxed my shoulders and picked up a piece of roasted dandelion root and blew on its tip.

  Drayce bit into his serving of boar and hummed with appreciation. I turned my gaze back to the indigo-haired soldier. He had uncorked the vial, poured himself a serving of wine, and took a swig from his cup.

  “Ugh.” His face twisted.

  White, hot panic blazed across my senses. The venom had a taste!

  A bellowing roar filled the air.

  My heart jumped, and I glanced into the maple trees, the direction of the sound. Could this be one of the transformed members of the Autumn Court?

  General Creach, Captain Stipe, and Captain Corpan stood and unsheathed their swords. Shadows spread out from under us, creating a circle of black.

  “Whatever’s out there won’t get close to you.” Drayce wrapped his arm around my middle and drew me close.

  The tiny pieces of my shattered heart bled tears of rancor. He didn’t care about my safety and needed me unhurt to hand to Queen Melusina. I set down my leaf and stared into his green, slitted eyes. They shone with love so bright, I had to lower my gaze. Until now, I’d never truly fathomed the depth of his deception.