“The prince,” Brodor said the instant they saw Wolfe huddled along the far wall. His words sounded almost as if he hadn’t really expected to find him in the dungeon. Prince Wolfe’s eyes opened, dazed as he stared at the two elfin guards. He didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge them. Brodor thrust his sword at Adal and moved quickly forward, bowing his head slightly as he came onto one knee. “My old friend, you live.”
Wolfe blinked several times, his mouth opening as if he would speak, but no sound came out with his shallow breath. He tried to lift his hand toward the warrior, but it fell back into his lap.
Brodor nodded. Reaching forward, he pulled the prince across his back to lift him up on his shoulders. Grabbing a thigh and an arm, he carried him out of the small cell. “I have him. Let us leave.”
Adal didn’t need to look at the map as he led the way out of the prisons. It was time to get Prince Wolfe home.
Lucien’s breath caught as Ari showed herself in his hall. How had she escaped the chains? Had he unconsciously freed her? And her gown? His body tight, he gripped the arms of his throne. Beneath him, the orgy had stopped and many of the demons had left his hall. Only the lycanthrope clan stayed behind, awaiting his command to attack those in the forest. With passions slaked, their normally hot tempers were calmed.
One of the beasts growled, making a move as if to go toward the woman but Andret, the clan leader, reached out and stopped him. A loud growl sounded in warning, as he gripped the man’s arm and jerked violently back. Stepping forward, Andret stood before the others, his dark eyes streaked with glowing blue as he stared at Ari.
Lucien watched her approach, his chin lowered, his fingers pressed along the half smile on his lips. She moved with ease, her head high, almost regal. The gray and black gown he’d given her was repaired, only now the collar came up high in the back, framing her face. Dark curls were piled high with bangs falling forward, sweeping across to almost hide one of her kohl-lined violet eyes.
His hand fell forward as she stopped at the bottom of the steps leading to his raised throne. There was no hesitance in her as she bowed her head and curtsied. “My king.”
As she stood, her eyes seemed to flash with a playful light. Lucien found himself standing. Slowly, he stepped down to meet her, aware of his demons’ watchful gazes.
“Mi…?” he began softly, only to correct himself. “Ari, what are you doing in the hall?”
“I’m taking my place,” she answered, without flinching, “as Mistress of the Damned King. Where else would I be but at your side, entertaining the guests of the Fire Palace?” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Or do you wish for me to sit at your feet?”
“You want something.” His tone dipped in amusement. “I know my nymph.”
“We all want things, my king.”
“Have you come to barter with me for King Ean and his men? You wish for me to spare them?” Lucien tossed his head back, laughing. He would not stop his plans, no matter how prettily she pleaded with him. “Even now, on the eve of your death, you come to me with thoughts of others? It would seem you are not so broken as you appeared. What price will you pay for the Blessed King’s freedom?”
“None,” she answered, her voice loud and clear.
A roar of laughter sounded over the hall, led by Lucien’s own amusement. He stepped past her. His hand lifted as he neared the center fire pit, surging the fire so it rose higher, lighting all the gruesome faces around him in pale orange. A wolf-man howled.
Lucien turned his back to the flames. Ari hadn’t moved from her place before his throne. Her arms were unmoving at her sides. “Surely, nymph, you do not think I would free the Blessed King simply because you ask it of me.”
“Did I ask?” Her head turned, her eyes meeting his.
Lucien was intrigued. What was happening with his little nymph? There was something different about her, a darkness that had not been in her before. She was achingly beautiful, poised, regal, and yet he found he missed the trembling, hopeless caring of Mia.
The dark temptress before him tilted her head and laughed, mimicking his movements as she held her hands to the side, walking toward the fire. “What care I for King Ean and his men? Is my life blessed? Is my soul light?” She neared him, her face inches from his as she leaned in to whisper loudly, “Nay, methinks they are not, my king. Light has been banished by the dark. You made sure to kill it.”
Lucien felt the demons’ approval, heard it in the soft grunts of the lycans. A sharp pain entered him and for a moment he was blinded by it. Then he realized it was his own agony radiating though every fiber of his body. He had indeed killed a piece of his nymph, the light, the caring, the fight. Everything he’d tried to make her now stood before him—accepting her place, accepting him. But even as he still wanted her, he felt actual pain at the loss of her goodness. Part of him, by his very damned nature, liked when she betrayed him, when she defied him.
“And if I kill the Blessed King, his men and his princely brother who even now is being rescued from my dungeons?” he said, quieter than before. Lucien touched her cheek, so warm to his cold.
“So be it. Fate has called for their deaths and their deaths it will have.” Ari lowered her lashes, sweeping them seductively over her violet eyes. “But, you are right, there is one thing, one small, little thing I do wish to have.”
Anything, he thought.
“What?” he asked.
“If you give it to me to do with as I wish, I will stay here in your hall by your side, at your feet, wherever you shall put me. No more escaping. No more betrayal.”
“And if I take a Bellemare soul?”
At that she hesitated. “Then they were foolish for losing their soul to you. I will not stop you, even if it is in my power.”
“You will choose me?” He didn’t dare let any of the others hear the question as he leaned close to her ear.
“Aye,” she said just as softly. “You.”
“Why?”
“It is my place. My choices led me here. I bartered my soul. I gave it to you. Methought you would kill me, but you kept me alive. So, here I am, as is your will, and here I will remain until you see fit to kill me.”
“Do you,” he hesitated, “think to love…?”
“There is no love in this world, Lucien, you know as well as I do. We dark beings are not capable of it.”
Lucien knew that was not true. Love was not only an emotion of the blessed. For certain, such creatures of light held a purer love than evil ever could. But, the dark could love. Vanity could be love. Obsession could be love. Desire could be love. Even as he thought it, he did not correct her.
“You have my word,” she said. “I will be loyal.”
“What is it you wish from me?” Lucien knew he would give her whatever she asked for. He always gave in to her, in the end.
“I want the instrument of my death.” Her eyes lit, catching the firelight from the center pit behind him. “I want the jeweled dagger. Queen Juliana’s dagger.”
“Why?” He didn’t move. “What need have you for it?”
“To do with as I wish. The blade stilled my beating heart and I saw all that the knife is meant to do. There is death in its steel and I want it.” She pouted her lip, her gaze eager. “Give it to me, Lucien, as a present. I want it.”
Lucien thought for a moment before lifting his hand to the side. Flames wrapped his fingers before forming into the blade. The rough texture of the jewels rubbed against his palm. Her eyes moved to it, but he didn’t give it to her. Instead, he walked back toward the throne. Ari followed behind, slow and not as sure. He heard it in her breathing, in the way her feet stepped quietly on the stone floor.
“I would like to present Lady Ari,” Lucien announced, swinging around to face the hall. “Mistress of the Fire Palace.”
The demons cheered, the lycans howled, Ari’s eyes met his. Pointing the dagger’s tip at the floor, he willed a chair to grow from the black stone, its carved back matching the demon and
flame pattern of his own seat. The platform widened, the steps moving over to make room. With his free hand, he motioned her to join him, at his side, in a seat of honor that no other had ever taken.
“Mistress,” Lucien said, as she paused one step beneath the platform. He held the dagger to her, staring at her mouth as she smiled. Her fingers wrapped around the presented hilt, the long nails brushing the back of his hand as he let go.
“My king.” Ari eyed the blade.
Lucien sat, glancing next to him to indicate that she should do the same. Ari ignored the chair, instead sitting on his lap for all to see. He tensed, continually surprised by her change. His thighs parted, letting her butt fit next to his stiff erection. She giggled softly to feel it, clutching her new knife in her fist. Lifting it to his throat, she kept her gaze steady on his. Steel grazed his flesh, but did not cut. She awaited his permission to cut. Closing his eyes as a rush of potent desire overcame him, he tilted his neck to the side. She could not kill him with the blade, but if she were to slice open his throat, she would weaken him, allowing for King Ean and his men’s possible escape.
She chuckled and he knew she understood his vulnerability. The blade cut, drawing a line over his neck, scratching the surface enough to make it bleed, but not enough to drain his energies. Wrapping her hand along his cheek, she leaned to his throat and licked. Fire sparked in Lucien’s gaze at the intense pleasure of her acceptance. Her lush mouth sucked gently, drinking him.
The beast within surged forth, evident in his voice as he ordered, “Andret, they have made it outside the palace walls and are tired. I call the moon over Hades so that you may have its strength for your shift. You have your orders, see that you do not fail me.”
“My king.” Andret bowed, before turning to his clan. Throwing back his head, he howled loud and long. The lycanthrope voices joined their leader’s as they hurried from the hall so that they may greet the moonlight and shift into their full terrifying forms.
“The rest of you, leave us!” he ordered.
Ari pulled back, her mouth stained with his blood, the knife gripped in her delicate hand. “Show me what happened in the hall today. I smell the sex. I see the altars. Show me.”
Lucien drew flames from the center pits to the altars, allowing them to form into creatures of the past. The flames moved like a life-size fire play, letting her see and hear the claiming of the dark faeries as they became impregnated with the first of his half-breed army. Lucien did not make the fire dance, merely watched the cruel actions of others with it. Lucien’s face became marred with the beast inside him.
“You have never asked to see these things before.” He angled his mouth for her bloody kiss. It was true, she’d often begged him to stop watching the cruel acts of others within the flames.
“As a nymph, it is a sin for me to find pleasure in the arms of a Damned King,” she said, instead of answering his observation. “Come, Lucien, help me to sin again.”
“The lycans attack!” Levin ran toward King Ean. Even as the shout sounded clouds drifted over the sky, carrying with it the evening moon. “Hurry, my king, we must get you away.”
Tensing, Ean sniffed the air, catching the faintest scent of wolf on the breeze. But that wasn’t all, he caught the smell of his elfin guard. “Grab the unicorns!”
Levin was already halfway toward the animals, signaling them to follow him toward the king. “We must ride.”
“I feel Adal approaching.” Ean swung onto the unicorn’s bare back, knowing the riderless two would follow his mount wherever he galloped. Kicking the steed in the side, he held onto the horn as the animal took off, passing over Hades’ borders toward the Fire Palace.
“My king!” Levin yelled. “They will meet us back at the encampment. We must keep you safe.”
“They have my brother!” Ean pressed down, urging the unicorn faster. Hooves beat heavily over the solid earth, as the dead grasses of the brown prairie sped by. Desperate he rode, following his feelings to find Wolfe and his guards. Silver moonlight shone overhead, the moon full and bright. Such a swift moonrise could only have been borne of magic and there was no guessing whose magic it was. Lucien knew they took Wolfe and he sent the lycans to stop them.
Seeing three shadowed figures running, one being pulled by a larger, he slowed his hurried pace. Wolves howled, barking into the night. He heard their feet, but couldn’t see them.
“Adal!” Ean shouted. The commander jumped as his unicorn hurried toward him, landing gracefully on the animal’s back. Levin was behind him, approaching but still far off. Motioning the other unicorn forward, he hollered, “Brodor!”
As the unicorn ran for the old warrior, Wolfe tripped, falling to the side. Brodor, who had a hold of the prince’s hand, was jerked back by the motion. The dark brown of his clothing made it impossible to make him out on the ground. Their figures disappeared into the prairie grasses. Ean continued forward, nudging his mount to once more pick up speed.
Suddenly, a loud growl sounded as three large wolves leapt in the moonlight. The unicorns spooked, the one heading for Brodor reared on its hind legs. A loud scream sounded. Brodor appeared, his fist striking out.
“Get up, Wolfe!” Brodor fought the animal with his bare hands before gaining enough room to free his sword.
Ean reached behind his back, grabbing his sword. An arrow shot past him as Levin caught up to the skirmish. A lycan yelped in surprise, flipping back over tail.
Jumping off the unicorn, while holding its horn in one hand and his weapon in the other, Ean kicked his feet, making contact with the lycan injured by the arrow. He landed near his brother. Wolfe moaned, his wide eyes staring up at the night sky. Ean reached to lift him up, only to hesitate briefly as his hands met with blood. Wolfe was wounded. “Wolfe, come.”
Brodor fought near them, slashing his sword wide to keep a particularly bloodthirsty lycan back. The creature’s eyes glowed blue, burning with hunger. “More approach. Protect the king—ah!”
The beast lurched forward, sinking his teeth into the elf’s shoulder. Brodor shouted an ancient battle cry asking for strength, before plunging his sword into his attacker’s hairy side.
“I have him.” Levin shot arrows past Ean.
“Brodor!” Adal galloped near with his hand out. The old warrior shrugged the wolf’s body off him, reaching his wounded arm up so that he wasn’t forced to drop his sword. He swung up behind the commander with a grunt.
Ean managed to get Wolfe onto the mount, while the lycan was distracted with Brodor, before seating himself behind him. He hugged his brother to his chest and it took all his efforts to keep them both seated as he urged the unicorn to gallop toward the Mystic forest and away from Kingdom of Hades’ borderlands.
Desperately whispering as they rode, Ean said, “Hold, Wolfe, hold. I have you. It is over. I will not let anything more happen to you. I promise.”
“Why do you laugh?” Ari asked, leaning back from where she straddled Lucien’s thighs on his throne. The hall was empty and they were both naked. Small cuts littered their bodies, injuries from when they made love. She gripped the jeweled dagger tight. “King Ean and his men escaped. The lycanthropes failed.”
“Nay,” Lucien said. “They did not fail. They did exactly what I asked of them.”
“But, King Ean is alive. That is what you wanted?” She eyed his face, aroused by the look of crimson on his lips.
“If the king dies, the unblessed will win the war and it will end. That does not suit my designs, sweet mistress.” He touched her cheek. “All is as I plan.”
Ari lifted the knife, chuckling. “I always wanted to try this.” Smoke swirled from her hand, creating a tiny flame. The trick was nothing compared to his great power, as she sent the dagger away. Pouting slightly, she lowered her lids. “I want more power, Lucien. Give me more power.”
He grinned. “All in time, nymph, all in time.”
Chapter Nine
“What is this place?” Juliana asked Anja, eyeing th
e weeping trees of the forest leading to a stone prairie. The tall grasses were like sharp blades shooting up from the ground, yet so delicate she could kick them over, breaking them with her toes. “It does not feel right. I do not think we should go here.”
“This is the dead lands. They are meant to scare you away, to keep you from finding the way out of this place.” Anja motioned her to follow. The child didn’t say much, but did smile whenever she saw Juliana looking in her direction, which was often. “See, there, in the distance? The castle?”
“Aye.”
“It is a palace. In its great hall there is a stone fire. That is the way back to the Realm of Immortals. That will take you home.” Anja smiled, her blue eyes shining.
Juliana nodded. She followed the child’s lead as the girl led her into the prairie, kicking over the stone grasses with each sweeping step.
“Thomas, what has happened? Why have you come to Feia?” Hugh stood, rushing around the dining table to greet his brother. He looked worn, his eyes red.
“William.” Thomas’ expression was strained. “You sent a missive, asking him why he had yet to come here. He left sennights ago. If he is not here, then—”
“William arrived,” Hugh said to put his brother at ease. “Late, but did arrive.”
“Oh, thank the heavens,” Thomas sighed in obvious relief. Then, his brow wrinkling in surprise, he pointed at Hugh. “You have wings.”
“One word about them and I’ll—” Hugh began.
“Tania says Thomas is—” William stopped as he came around the corner from the stairwell, his clothes sloppily hanging on his frame. “Ho, Thomas, what brings you to Feia?”
“You,” Thomas said.
“Me?” William glanced around, as if his brother couldn’t possibly mean him.
“Aye, Hugh sent a missive saying you never arrived. You left sennights ago.”
“What took you so long?” Hugh asked.
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