Seelie (The Falcon Grey Files Book 1)

by Sarah Luddington

  Aquila stared at me and smiled, a finger tracing my straining jaw, making me jerk against the ropes holding me. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” he asked. “Of course it does. She’s creative, I’ll give her that – as mad as your father unfortunately. It’s just a different kind of madness.”

  I watched him, his brown eyes were hard.

  “I had hoped you’d grow into the man Elfhame needed, but it’s not going to happen and when you ran with your brother I knew I had to act. I will not see this land chew itself up because the royal family is mad. If no one else can do the job, I shall,” he said.

  If I could have spoken there would be a great deal I’d like to say right now.

  Firstly, he couldn’t rule. My family would rule until Elfhame decided differently and destroyed us – that’s how it worked. Secondly, we were made mad by Elfhame’s power unless we were emotionally, morally and physically strong. Even then the constant stream of power and information coming from Elfhame would corrode anyone’s mind. I hoped my brother would be stronger and together with the great minds of Elfhame we’d learn to harness her power so it didn’t hurt him. The trouble was, the men in my family weren’t known for asking others to help them rule Elfhame, which is why they went mad. My brother would be different.

  Aquila thought he could rule through Leo, I could see that, but it wouldn’t work and Gimlé rotting from the inside out made it clear.

  He approached Paris and released the gag, pulling it from his bloody lips none to gently. Paris instantly rasped, “Can’t you see that your plan is failing, that it’s wrong? Gimlé is imploding, it’s dying. You are pulling it apart and Leo is crazy.”

  “Gimlé is sick because our King is sick. Not because of Leo. I will marry her and the power will be in safe hands,” Aquila said. He sounded far more lucid than most despots.

  Paris flicked a glance at me. “Let Falcon go. He is the Crown Prince. He will be able to do something about this. If you want Elfhame whole you need to go through him. Elfhame will never accept a woman, she can’t, the act of union must be with a man and the woman chosen by Elfhame to represent her in the union. It has always been this way.” He sounded desperate. I wondered how he’d not known Aquila pulled Leo’s strings, but perhaps that was the point, the marionette and the puppeteer should remain separate for the audience until the last possible moment.

  Aquila rolled his palm over his sword hilt. “Let Falcon go? Are you mad now as well? If I do that Elfhame will force him to be king and I will lose Leo – not that there’s much to enjoy.” He stared at my sister with contempt. “What is it about you two and sex games?” he asked, returning his attention to me. “She’s the most twisted woman I’ve ever met. What she did to Marcus... Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t have done that to anyone. Just as well he was a slave.”

  The hate surging through me threatened to choke me.

  “If you let Falcon go, he can make Elfhame strong,” Paris said. He was trying to draw their attention away from me, to protect me.

  “No, he won’t. He is weak like his sister and he needs controlling. Our royal family is corroded,” Aquila said.

  I wasn’t going to argue with him, he was right. I was weak – too weak to be of used to Elfhame. I didn’t understand why she continued to allow our family control but then who could know the mind of their creator and sustainer?

  Aquila turned his back on Paris and grabbed my jaw. “Such a waste. You were my best, Falcon. Loyal, strong, intelligent... But your love for the slave... I thought you’d grow out of it... If you had, none of this would be necessary. I’m sorry, son, but I need your sister to stink of you, so you are going to be here for years and she will feed from you often, even after your father is dead.”

  I stared into those eyes. He’d planned all this for a long time, coldly learning everything he needed for his quiet coup to work. And my fate was sealed, Leo would be using me to gain access to Elfhame rather than relying on her own power. They’d keep me here for as long as Aquila needed her and once he had found a way to take power directly he’d kill us both.

  Perhaps Gifling would stage a rescue with her kitchen knives and mad hair? Perhaps Marcus wasn’t really dead...

  “There’s a story in the human world I remember from the last time I was there. It had just been written, I believe. It’s where I began to understand how I could do all this,” he said, sweeping his arm around him. “The Man In The Iron Mask.” He caressed my jaw again. “You are going to be that man,” he said.

  The nausea washed back through me and my heart raced. I began to breathe hard in panic once more. I’d always hated that bloody story and I didn’t doubt for a moment they couldn’t do it. An iron face designed to keep me hidden and silent while Leo took the Breath of Life from me whenever she wanted.

  “He’d rather die,” Paris said quietly. “He’ll never let it happen. He’ll just fade away.”

  “He is of the royal line, they all want to survive despite the odds,” Aquila said.

  “Not Falcon. Marcus is dead. You are hurting him and me. He doesn’t love me – not like he loved Marcus. He won’t save himself if you keep me alive in the hope he can save me as well. And he won’t tolerate this behaviour. He will die if you cage him,” Paris said.

  There were so many thoughts and emotions in those words I didn’t know what to think. He’d spoken of Marcus in the past tense; that’s the one that caused most babbling in my mind. Was he telling me how to rescue us? By dying? Was he mad?

  I glanced into his eyes and saw the resigned sadness of a man who knew he was mortally wounded and needed to save his comrades by staying behind to shoot the bad guys.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  I had lost so much with the bloody corpse in the room next door. Paris was right; losing Marcus meant I didn’t want to fight for his sake. What Paris didn’t know, and neither did I until this moment, was my desire to fight for him. I would fight to save him from this pain. I wanted to see him whole, beautiful, and laughing. I wanted to give him the chance to be happy. I felt a hand grab my balls and squeeze hard. A strangled cry escaped my mouth.

  “Time to suffer for me, brother,” Leo whispered in my ear. I couldn’t turn and look at her but I could feel her breasts pushing against my ribs. She twisted what she had and tears came to my eyes, unbidden by any emotion, just reacting to the pain. She released my balls but slapped upward with the back of her hand. I felt the impact of her knuckles against my genitals. It hurt but nothing I couldn’t endure. I tried to breathe slowly through my nose and I watched the wall, not Paris. I didn’t want him to see this degrading humiliation at my sister’s hands.

  She dragged her nails up my belly and over my chest, moving to stand in front of me and replacing Aquila. Her fingers found their way into my mouth. “How many cocks have been in here?” she asked, poking at my tongue which tried to retreat to the back of my mouth. Her gleeful madness in the depths of her expression made me want to deny her presence. I only had one option. I closed my eyes.

  “I am going to be able to play with you for years, brother. You poor little submissive,” she cooed.

  I doubted that. I wouldn’t survive for long. If I didn’t find a way out, the moment Paris died I’d start to fade away. Right now I only continued to live for him, he might not understand that, but I’d explain it, I’d make him understand. With Marcus gone the only thing Elfhame held for me was Paris. I didn’t care about the people. I didn’t care about the land or my father. I only cared about Marcus and I now felt I had a responsibility to Paris. Maybe more than that perhaps, but it wasn’t the time to understand.

  Leo tried to stuff her whole fist in my mouth and it hurt. I endured. Paris attempted to reason with her but she forced the gag back in his mouth and slapped him hard enough to break his teeth against the wood. He whimpered in pain.

  My sister moved to stand behind me and I felt her fingers begin to go where no one’s fingers should go unless invited. She began to talk about what she’d done to Marcus, the
fun she’d had with him and Swane. I allowed the words to pour off my skin. I hung like halal meat, waiting for the end. The one bonus, I wasn’t hard and she couldn’t get it up. She tried everything but my body wouldn’t, couldn’t find her invasion erotic. I loved my cock for that sense of loyalty.

  It made her frustrated and she hit me with her fists, then a wooden rod. It hurt. I endured. She’d take the Breath of Life when she got bored. I just had to make sure she grew bored.

  She didn’t. She placed a chain around Paris’ neck, released the gag and let him off the cross. He’d managed to heal a little while she’d been playing with me.

  “Suck him,” she ordered of Paris.

  He stared at me with dull eyes. “No.”

  The chain around his neck bit into the skin and he choked. “Suck him and make him hard,” she snarled. “I want to make him come for my pleasure.”

  “No.”

  “I will beat you if you don’t.”

  “Then beat me. I love him. I won’t hurt him for you or my freedom,” Paris said. “I will never hurt him.”

  She shoved his face close to mine. “If you don’t fuck him...”

  The words were lost. Paris was in range, his damaged mouth open slightly. I released everything in my soul into his empty vessel. We’d already shared the love necessary and the incantation, my soul recognised his and willingly surrendered. Power roared out of me. A thick stream of red energy, dark and endless. He was not connected to anything. He couldn’t siphon it off. Couldn’t steal it. Couldn’t hand it over to someone else. All he could do was swallow it and he did.

  Leo cried out and tried to pull Paris away but Elfhame and her power had other ideas. She, the energy of our world, held Paris close to my open mouth and my life poured into him. I began to fade, weakening with every moment but that didn’t matter, Paris would be strong, strong enough to avenge Marcus. When Leo couldn’t pull my friend away she hit him with the whip but nothing hurt him and he began to shine. She hit me and I felt every terrible blow but I wasn’t going to stop the Breath of Life filling Paris.

  I wanted to tell him that he’d been wrong. I did love him. I was going to die for him. Long moments passed and Paris grew stronger, brighter, harder.

  When I felt Paris could only take what remained in me, I rejected the life force, closing my mind off to the energy and swallowing the pain that caused, while he continued to feed. Large black spots began to appear in front of my eyes and I felt Elfhame trying to force herself into my soul to refill me with power as she had done while I’d been reviving Paris.

  Leo howled in rage and Paris flipped into his half form. She followed suit, yanking hard on the chain around Paris’ neck. The half wild cat hissed and spat at the half lion. They crashed into me, turning me and pulling hard on all the restraints; I thought my mouth would split open at the sides. Spinning in the harness I couldn’t see the fight, but I heard the screams and Paris came into view, slammed into the wall, covered in blood, his chest a mess of scratches. He didn’t hesitate, throwing himself back into the fray, and I began to strain against the ropes holding me, using muscles long forgotten and sadly neglected.

  I flexed and twisted, my body weak and my consciousness dissolving. I wasn’t going to leave Paris alone with Leo. I collapsed the barrier between myself and Elfhame. She washed into me and I sensed her relief – should there be an emotional response? Or was it my imagination? The muscles in my shoulders contracted and bulged, making the ropes creak. A knife flashed, not a claw, and something gave above me. The harness slipped and several of the ropes became excruciatingly tight on my left arm and leg but my right arm loosened. I fought the pain and my arm came free, sliding out of the restraints. I dragged at the gag holding my mouth agape. My fingers were numb and when they finally freed my jaw I couldn’t close my mouth but I twisted and began to untangle myself from the rest.

  I hit the ground hard, changed, fighting Leo’s spells now I was free from the bonds, and I focused on the cat scrap. Leo was winning, Paris was under her, thrashing and snapping at her, claws and teeth bloody but so were his arms and legs, chest and stomach. I screeched to distract her; it worked and she roared at me, switching victims.

  We crashed together. I bit into her neck and a bloody fountain poured forth. I drank greedily. It wouldn’t do me much good, unlike the blood of humans, but it tasted great. Other Seelie could feed from me but I couldn’t feed from them; it stopped the royal family from becoming total monsters. The claws of her hands dug into my ribs, but I dug into her lower back, far more used to fighting with other Seelie than my protected sister.

  She began to panic. I snapped at her face, wrapping my legs around her thighs. A shadow passed over my head and Leo grunted hard, her eyes rolling and widening in shock. Her arms trembled for a moment before she exhaled heavily, and collapsed on my chest. I changed form once more.

  “Falcon.” Paris hove into view, a bloody knife in his hand, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed in a faint.

  My head dropped back to the hard cold stone floor and I worked my jaw until the tension left. I pushed Leo’s corpse off me and rose slowly. My body hurt, muscles popping and pinging, pins and needles racing through to my hands and feet. I struggled to reach Paris on hands and knees, pulling him into my lap. I could see his pulse fluttering in his neck.

  “Oh, Paris,” I breathed his name and cradled him to my chest.

  “Fal,” he murmured.

  I kissed him and the Breath of Life fluttered into him, like a tickle, a trickle, a tiny stream at the beginning of a mighty river. I stroked his hair back even as his wounds closed, as did mine. When the kiss finished we drew back slightly but we gazed into each other’s eyes for a long time. He stroked my cheek, I stroked his hair.

  “I am in love with you,” he whispered.

  I drew back further. “I must see Marcus,” I spoke slowly, the words painful and I watched Paris’ fragile gaze shatter. He hid the hurt behind movement, rolling fluidly off my lap, his clothes torn and bloody.

  “I really did like this outfit – made me feel all tough,” he complained, pulling the ruined shirt and leather vest off.

  “Paris, I’m sorry. Give me time...”

  His eyes were bright, feral and he wore his perfect mask. “No time, dear boy, we have a bad man to stop,” he said. “I expect the Commander has gone to visit your father and he will find Gifling, so if you need to see Marcus we must leave.”

  I wanted to stop the withdrawal of the gentle man I’d seen in Paris, I wanted to tear at this terrible mask he covered himself with constantly. The iron mask he created to protect himself from me. I shuddered and rose, naked. Paris might have a mask for his heart but he didn’t one for his lust. I felt his eyes on me and I grasped his jaw when I passed him. “Time, Paris. If you want me, give me time.”

  I pushed him away slightly, asserting my authority. His desire flared for a moment. I walked into the room that we’d first seen of Leo’s true chambers.

  The cage remained where we had left it. The body in the cage remained where Leo had left it. The eyes gazed up at the ceiling where Paris had left them, in the cage, the face turned toward the ceiling as he’d tried to find a pulse. The green eyes remained vacant.

  “Marcus...” the sob came from the depth of my being. I sank to my knees. “Marcus...” I pressed my lips to the remains of his mouth and released the Breath of Life. Nothing. There was no soul to fill.

  No soul. Empty. Nothing. No soul to fill.

  I wanted to speak. I wanted to breathe. I really did. But there was just pain. Only the pain. I keened, a steaming kettle sound. Arms held me. Strong arms and a familiar scent.

  I don’t know how long we were bound together by my grief, Paris and I. “Leo,” I growled.

  “She’s already dead, Falcon.” He spoke gently, trying to divert my grief.

  I shuddered, rose and moved into the other room. Her body lay still in a spreading pool of red stickiness. I kicked it and the hips wobble
d. I kicked harder and it rolled over, the blonde hair matted now with blood not wax, the breasts exposed and for once flaccid until I moved them by kicking... Kicking... Kicking. The skin split, more blood and other soft things began to spread over the floor. I kicked and screamed. I screamed and cursed.

  “I hate this place. I hate it,” I snarled.

  “You need to stop Aquila,” Paris said, utterly calm, not reacting to my rage and certainly not bringing it down on his own head. He held my clothes out toward me. “You must find him and then we will bury Marcus with full honours.”

  “Full honours,” I hissed. “He was a slave.” I dragged on my clothing, blood smattered all over me. “Your words, Paris. Just a slave. He meant nothing to you. Why the fuck would you care what happens to his body?”

  Paris remained carefully passive. “Because you care, and that’s enough. I was jealous. Marcus was a threat. He was just a slave, but he threatened me because you loved him. But I am sorry, Falcon. I am so sorry.” He touched my shoulder.

  “If I hadn’t wasted time...” I snarled in savage contempt for what I’d shared with Paris.

  “I know, Falcon. You will always blame me for this, whether it is my fault or not. He’s been dead for hours, maybe days but you will always regret the moments you spent in my arms.”

  I wanted the anger to flare again but I’d given Paris a great deal of my energy and I felt his genuine grief for my pain. His sorrow stole my rage and I dragged him into my embrace. I clung to him. I couldn’t weep but Paris held me gently, hoping to remove some of the pain.

  Would I blame him? Was I that shallow? At that moment I didn’t know and I felt shame for it as well as everything else crashing through me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  “I have a man to kill,” I said, finally under some kind of control. Paris let me go.

  “You have the Commander of the Hunters to kill. It won’t be easy,” Paris pointed out.