Forsaken Fae: The Complete Series, Books 1-3 (Last Vampire World)

by Steffan, R. A.

  Len stared at them. “So... what are you saying? The Court is just going to shrug and play the fiddle while Rome burns?”

  The sidhe frowned. “I do not understand the reference.”

  Albigard sighed. “The Court would consider abdicating control of the Earth to be essentially the same as capitulating to the demons. There is also some question as to whether human institutions could survive the sudden removal of their hidden power structure.”

  “And if the world tree falls while the Fae are dicking around?” Len asked pointedly.

  “There is a faction among the ruling class that was ready to abandon Dhuinne altogether and move the seat of power to Earth,” Albigard reminded him.

  “Which part of the last few weeks suggests that the devastation is going to be confined to a single realm?” Len demanded in exasperation.

  “An excellent question,” the cat-sidhe said grimly. “One which I would very much like to place before the Court for consideration.”

  “Yes.” Albigard agreed. “Except for one small matter. In case you’ve forgotten, the leader of the Unseelie Court has already shown a willingness to sentence me to death, and to collar you with iron.”

  A look of stubbornness crossed the cat-sidhe’s elfin features. “So he did. Yet here we both stand.”

  Len thought about the twins, Nezri and Danon. “You know, you’ve got access to a—” He almost said ‘a weapon,’ but caught himself in time. “To allies that you’re not using.”

  A furrow formed between Albigard’s brows. “The Forsaken? I’m not certain they will have much interest in confronting the same government that forced them into exile in the first place.”

  But Len didn’t back down. “What makes you so sure? They already have spies in the city. And they’ve risked themselves to help us trap the Hunt.”

  “Perhaps,” said the cat-sidhe, in a tone of speculation.

  “Can we find them and ask?” Len replied. “It might be several days until they come back here.”

  “It’s not an unreasonable course of action, I suppose,” Albigard allowed. “For one thing, we will need food, and the area around the camp has been severely impacted by the Hunt’s passage.”

  Len hadn’t been outside the cave yet. His heart sank at the idea that they might have caused the camp’s destruction. “Did it kill everything?”

  But Albigard shook his head. “The damage isn’t comparable to the damage you saw on Earth, or in the pocket realm. Many plants and animals were killed, it is true. Others were weakened. But this is Dhuinne. Life will recover quickly.”

  That was both a relief, and an unwelcome reminder of what might have happened back on Earth in Len’s absence. At the moment, however, there wasn’t much he could do about Earth. It was safe from additional attacks, now that the Wild Hunt had been absorbed into the world tree, but he had no way to find out what damage had already been done.

  The cat-sidhe tilted their head at Albigard. “There is a faint connection through you, leading to the twins.”

  He nodded. “They were able to track you by following the thread you left when you gifted me your magic in California. No doubt you are feeling that same connection, from the other end.”

  “That would explain it, yes.” The sidhe stood up and dusted off their buckskin breeches. “It should not be difficult to trace them.”

  Still seated next to Len on the edge of the pallet, Albigard turned and gave him an assessing look. “Are you recovered enough to travel?”

  In truth, Len felt like he could sleep for a solid week. But... it was pretty clear they weren’t done yet.

  “Take me someplace with food, and I’ll manage,” he said. “Just don’t expect me to battle any more deadly Fae archetypes for a bit, okay?”

  “Don’t even think such a thing,” Albigard replied, looking appalled. “What was that you mentioned earlier, about tempting fate?”

  Len hid the stupid, sappy grin that wanted to escape in response to the jab... because Albigard was alive. Somehow, against all good sense, the Fae was still here—and just for this one moment, Len could ignore all the other calamities hanging over their heads on the strength of that one impossible, amazing fact.

  * * *

  As the cat-sidhe had promised, finding the temporary Forsaken camp wasn’t difficult. Apparently the group hadn’t gone far—not that it really mattered, when getting back to them was a simple matter of stepping through the cat-sidhe’s portal.

  There was a bit of a tense standoff when they arrived, with surprised Forsaken lunging for weapons and calling magic to hand. It was pretty clear they hadn’t expected the cat-sidhe to return from Chaima so quickly... or for Albigard to return at all. Fortunately, recognition rippled through the camp before anyone started hurling either arrows or blasts of power at them. Nezri hurried forward, Danon only a few steps behind her.

  “What happened?” she demanded. “Were you unable to...” She trailed off, her eyes falling heavily on Albigard. “Wait. Your magic is back. How—?”

  Danon joined his sister and gave the three of them a piercing, head-to-toe sweep. “Maybe you should come to the fire and sit down for a bit. You look like you could use some food and a hot drink before you tell us what happened.”

  “Yes, please,” Len managed weakly, only to stifle a groan when he remembered that he shouldn’t accept food and drink from Fae.

  Albigard must have intuited his problem, because he cupped a hand beneath Len’s elbow and shepherded him in the direction the twins indicated, murmuring, “You need not fear. The bond between us returned at the same time as my magic. You are still claimed, and may not be claimed by another.”

  Intellectually, Len knew that shouldn’t have been a relief... and yet, he was relieved. It definitely shouldn’t have sent a low curl of heat through his belly. He let out a slow breath and rummaged in his pocket with his free hand, pulling out the battered hair tie and showing it to his companion.

  “Guess I should have ditched this old thing when I had the chance, huh?” he quipped.

  Albigard raised a wry eyebrow. “As I have explained before, it doesn’t work like that. But, as I have more use for such an item than you...”

  He lifted a hand as though to reach for the strip of cloth.

  “Nope, get your own.” Len snatched it away and put it back in his pocket. “Taking gifts back is tacky.”

  He was certain he could sense Albigard’s aura of smug satisfaction radiating against his left side like sunlight. The contented feeling kindling in Len’s chest in response was unexpected, but maybe it shouldn’t have been. Reassured on a number of different levels, he accepted a place near the campfire and a bowl of some kind of hearty soup, which he ate ravenously.

  Len had always possessed an affinity for food and its preparation, but the last few weeks had honed his appreciation of nourishment to a sharp edge. When he’d been homeless, he’d missed plenty of meals. He’d gone hungry sometimes, but he’d never thought about real starvation... about having no access to food for days or weeks on end, and knowing that the lack of it might well end up causing his death.

  Since the pocket realm, every meal had tasted like life; like the promise of another day. And all that was before you factored in the savory addictiveness of even the simplest Faerie food.

  With his hunger and thirst sated, Len sat with Albigard at his side and let the cat-sidhe take the lead in explaining what had happened over the course of the last day. When the sidhe reached the part about the Unseelie migration to Earth causing the imbalance in Dhuinne’s magic, Nezri’s eyebrows shot up.

  “What made you realize, Elder?” she asked, looking every bit as taken aback as Albigard and the cat-sidhe had, when Len first dumped the idea on them.

  “I did not realize,” said the elfin Fae. “It was the human who solved the mystery.”

  Abruptly, all eyes turned to Len, who shifted in place with an awkward cough.

  “It was the roots, beneath Chaima,” he told the small crowd
. “You said they represented Unseelie magic, and they’ve been weakened. The way I understand it, that means Unseelie magic on Dhuinne has also been weakened... which makes sense, since a bunch of the Unseelie Fae aren’t here anymore.”

  “It makes a certain amount of sense, when you frame it like that,” Danon said. “So, what can we do to fix it?”

  The cat-sidhe wore a grim, contemplative expression. “That is the question, is it not?”

  Albigard steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “The Court will not look kindly on any demand to recall the Unseelie from the human realm,” he said. “Yet they are the only ones with the power to do so. I believe we must confront them with the truth, regardless of the consequences.”

  Nezri tilted her head. “Dhuinne restored your life after you sacrificed it in her service. That is no small thing to be dismissed out of hand—not even by the Court.”

  The old woman, Aesulna, had been watching the proceedings closely. “Perhaps. But do not forget, members of the Court also laid hands on a sidhe. The old ways are crumbling. Still, there must be some in the city who will see sense.”

  “If we all go together, we might get their attention,” Danon said. Then he shrugged. “Or they might attack us on sight. Hard to say which.”

  “With the Hunt neutralized, we have time now, at least,” the cat-sidhe declared. “First, we will rest. The Unseelie and his human were both hard-used in the caverns beneath Chaima. They need time to recover. Decisions about our approach to the Court can wait until tomorrow, at the earliest.”

  Nezri nodded. “If the Hunt is no longer a danger, we could return to the camp today... though it would require some organization. This place isn’t nearly as well defended.”

  “It might be best to wait a few days, until the area recovers,” said the cat-sidhe. “The devastation was extensive, and food in the valley is scarce. Did you bring your stores with you?”

  “We did,” said Aesulna. “We’ll be fine here for a bit.”

  After a bit more discussion, the meeting broke up into smaller groups. Many people left to resume whatever tasks they’d been doing when Len, Albigard, and the cat-sidhe had portaled in. The sidhe wandered away with Nezri and Aesulna, the three of them deep in conversation.

  Danon gave Len and Albigard an assessing glance. “Get some rest,” he ordered gruffly, and tossed a pile of blankets and furs at their feet before leaving as well.

  Len let out a sigh like a deflating balloon in response to the idea that they might finally have a day to just... be. No Wild Hunt breathing down their necks. No jail cells. No expectation of certain death looming around the corner—though Len still couldn’t quite credit how things had turned out on that particular front.

  Movement caught his eye, and he looked up to find Leesa approaching them. Her face was alight with happiness.

  “You’re all right!” she exclaimed, by way of a greeting, and flopped down to sit cross-legged in front of them.

  Len wasn’t sure he was ever going to be ‘all right’ again, but he appreciated the sentiment.

  “The outcome was unexpected, to put it mildly,” Albigard replied, in the understatement of the decade.

  “It turns out, he’s so prickly that even Chaima spat him out,” Len managed.

  The grin that split Leesa’s face was like a flash of blue sky after a cloudy day. “I’m so glad. For both of you.”

  “Me, too,” Len said, and felt everything unexpectedly hit him again.

  “Can you tell me about Chaima?” Leesa asked brightly. “I’ve never talked to anyone who’s really been there. What are the magical fields like around it?”

  Albigard must have noticed the slump of Len’s shoulders as the last of his energy deserted him, because he said, “A moment, first. Then I would be happy to discuss it with you.” He shook out the pile of blankets Danon had left them and laid them on the ground. When he was done, he turned to Len. “Sleep now. You are not yet recovered from your ordeal.”

  “What about your ordeal?” Len prodded.

  The Fae’s expression softened. “I am well. Or at least, I believe I would prefer a pleasant conversation regarding magical theory to additional rest at the moment. I was not the one who collapsed a tunnel entrance using untried powers of necromancy, after all.”

  No, Len thought. You were the one who died.

  “Okay,” he said aloud. “Try not to corrupt her too badly while I’m napping.”

  Leesa scoffed at his words.

  Len reminded himself one more time that things were fine now, for a given definition—albeit one that didn’t extend to the mess they’d left behind on Earth. He’d be obsessing over that part soon enough, but Albigard was right. First, he needed to sleep. He made himself comfortable on the nest of blankets Albigard had prepared for him and closed his eyes, letting the others’ incomprehensible discussion about recursive dimensional folds and diffuse semi-permeable tesseract barriers lull his mind into silence.

  FIFTEEN

  LEN JERKED AWAKE repeatedly throughout the day, tormented by dreams in which Albigard died again and again as Len kissed him, and the Hunt escaped to wreak more havoc across the realms.

  Each time, strong hands steadied him, a familiar voice murmuring words of reassurance and urging him back to sleep. Len tried to feel guilt over the realization that Albigard was apparently stuck at his bedside, playing nursemaid—and couldn’t.

  Eventually, Leesa woke him to give him more soup. Evening was giving way to night, and Albigard was still there, sipping his own bowl without offering any comment regarding Len’s shiny new parasomnia disorder.

  “Is everything still all right?” Len muttered around mouthfuls of soup.

  “All is well,” Albigard assured him.

  Len finished the bowl and put it down. “All might be well here,” he said, unable to set aside his other worries any longer. “But what about on Earth? And if the Hunt is gone, that means Rans and Zorah—”

  “Yes,” Albigard said dully, cutting him off. “It does seem likely that they are truly lost.”

  The Fae rose and walked out of the circle of firelight, his movements abrupt and jerky. Len closed his eyes and let him have the moment alone. He got up more slowly, and took the opportunity to find a convenient tree at the edge of the camp to piss on. When he was done, he prodded at the ugly dark hole where all his worries about his friends on Earth lived.

  When it came to Rans and Zorah being dead, nothing had changed—not really. They’d been dead before, with only a single, crazy long shot at getting them back. They were still dead. The fact that the long shot now looked to be completely impossible shouldn’t have mattered to his grief.

  Somehow, it still did.

  He returned to the pile of blankets to find Albigard waiting for him, contemplating the fire. Around them, the other members of the camp were settling in for the night. Len joined him, watching the hypnotic flicker of the flames.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his gaze sliding sideways to rest on his companion’s somber features. “I miss them, too.”

  Albigard nodded, his eyes bright in the firelight, and did not resist as Len pulled him to lie down on the nest of blankets. The Fae’s arm came around Len’s torso from behind, and Albigard rested his forehead against the nape of Len’s neck. With their bodies pressed together and the reassurance of Albigard’s heartbeat thudding strong and steady against Len’s back, the nightmares didn’t wake him again.

  * * *

  As it turned out, Len didn’t need nightmares to pull him out of a sound sleep. The cries of, ‘Wake up, something’s breaching the wards!’ were highly effective in achieving the same result.

  Albigard cursed in that unfamiliar language he sometimes used, rolling smoothly to his feet while Len was still flailing clumsily out of the blankets. By the time Len got himself upright and blinked his eyes into focus in the gray light of predawn, his companion’s clothing had melted into the magic-infused, dark leather battle armor he’d worn in St. Louis.


  “Stay low,” Albigard hissed. “I don’t know where the threat is coming from yet.”

  Len dropped back to a crouch, painfully aware that he’d be useless in any kind of a magical battle. Around them, the Forsaken were scrambling for weapons. There was a sharp whistle, and someone was tossing Albigard a sword, hilt-first. One of the other camp members made a quick gesture toward the fire, and it extinguished as though it had never been—snuffed out without a single ember or wisp of smoke.

  “The kids,” Len said, low and urgent. “There are children here, for god’s sake—”

  Albigard paced in a wary circle around him, his attention focused outward. “We must trust that the Forsaken have a plan for their own defense,” he said grimly.

  And before Len could answer, dark shapes swarmed the camp from all directions. The Forsaken roared a ragged battle cry, and magic started flying. Len did as he’d been told and stayed on the ground, hunched low as blasts of light illuminated the clearing with a crazy strobe effect.

  The attackers were Fae—Seelie and Unseelie—dressed in uniforms similar to the guards who’d escorted Len and Albigard to and from the Court a few days ago. They were armed with blades as well as magic, and Len scrambled out of the way as one of the intruders, a Seelie warrior, clashed with Albigard in a flurry of sword strikes.

  He only just managed to brace himself for the blast of icy power when the woman screamed and fell, pierced through the heart. Albigard hoisted Len up by one arm while he was still trying to force oxygen into frozen lungs.

  “There are too many,” Albigard grated out. “We will make for better cover.”

  Len stumbled after the Fae as he headed toward the denser forest surrounding the camp, sword held ready in his other hand. Behind them, Len could hear screams and curses.

  “The others!” he gasped, trying to turn back.

  Albigard didn’t slow, or let go of his grip on Len’s arm. “You are unarmed and human, not to mention under my protection, now that I am in any position to offer such a thing. Your safety takes precedence—”