Seduced By The Fae King (Mated To The Fae King Book 3)

by Bailey Dark

  “What happened?” I ask. My voice is hoarse, and it hurts to speak.

  “You went head on with Sadal,” Thal says. “You almost died. I had to pull you from the bodies before you died from blood loss.”

  “Thanks,” I whisper. Gratitude swells in my chest as I stare at my cousin. The thought of dying at Sadal’s hand before I save my people makes me sick.

  “Don’t thank me.” Thal glances away before flashing me a grin. “I just didn’t want to be King.”

  I laugh harshly and then fall into a fit of coughing. “Your self-interest has done it again, Thal.”

  We fall into silence as the healers check my bandages. I glance down at my legs, now on display. Thal clears his throat at the sight of my cock and I smirk. The smile fades when I see both my calves encased in plaster. Broken. Both legs. I close my eyes and let my head sag back onto the pillow.

  “Damn it,” I murmur.

  “They’ll be fully healed within the week,” Thal says encouragingly. “Don’t worry about it, cousin.”

  “By the end of the week, it might not matter anymore. We might be dead anyway if I can’t do something about it,” I growl.

  The healers fall silent, their hands moving more slowly. I know I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have expressed that kind of hopelessness in front of my own people. Thal shoots me a look as if to say look what you’ve done.

  “So, we lost this battle,” I say, ignoring his warning glare.

  “This battle,” he says evenly. “Only because Sadal got involved.”

  I shrug. He’s right. Before Sadal joined the fray, our soldiers were driving the demons back into the mountains and we decimated the Bloodbanes in the sky. I could bring myself to feel satisfied if I didn’t know that Sadal will beat us again if he chooses to fight. He could crush us in minutes just as he did today.

  Sadal will only grow stronger as chaos grows in Alnembra – he feeds on it. And as he grows stronger, so, too, will the Bloodbane. And that would be the end of Alnembra. The end of Canes. The end of all Fae kingdoms on the continent. I stare out the window as Thal takes a seat at my bedside. Darkness has fallen, stares wink in and out of sight as clouds float past. The healers slip a pair of loose-fitting pants over me while their magic still blocks the pain.

  “I need to see the witch,” I say softly, thinking of Verity in her Bloodbane cloak.

  “What?” Thal’s brows furrow. “She’ll never talk to you.”

  I wait until the healers have closed the door behind them to speak. “Our war is hopeless unless we find a way to cripple Sadal, maybe even kill him.”

  “You’re talking about killing one of the old gods,” Thal says seriously. “A god, Altair.”

  “You know the legends,” I whisper. “They weren’t always gods.”

  Thal shakes his head. “Those are legends, just legends.”

  “Nevertheless.” I eye him. “I need to speak to the witch.”

  I don’t tell him what happened to Verity, that she’s become one of the Bloodbane. If there’s a way to undo it, the witch would know. And if anyone knows Sadal’s dark history, it would be the Bloodbane.

  Thal sighs, surrendering to my stubborn nature. He rolls a chair with wooden wheels to my bedside and helps me into a sitting position. I grit my teeth as I scoot closer to the edge of the mattress. Thal scoops me into his arms and settles me into the chair. I eye my legs, splayed and at an odd angle as they still rest on the mattress.

  Pain shoots through my legs and all the way up my spine as Thal carefully arranges the plasters onto the chair. I hiss, clenching my eyes closed as I ride the pain until it fades to a dull throb. Thal grimaces sympathetically before moving behind me to roll the chair out of the room.

  Carefully, we manage to make our way down the stairs and into the dungeons with the chair. Grunting, Thal settles the chair onto the damp stone floor of the dungeon. He shoots me a glare. “Damn, heavy fool,” he growls.

  I grin. “Imagine getting back up.”

  He rolls his eyes and shoves me forward. We pass Navi’s cell but I don’t bother glancing towards her. I hear her rustle in the darkness, I even hear her fingers rustle against the iron bars of her cell. She gasps when she catches sight of me, but we’re out of view in seconds. I stare intently at the Bloodbane’s cell in the back of the dungeon. She’s silent, making no sound as we approach.

  Thal sets the torch in the sconce, illuminating the area. The witch is sitting with her knees to her chest in the corner of the cell. Her robes are ragged and dirty. Her hair is matted, and there are dark circles under her eyes. I eye her, cocking my head to the side. Her pale blue eyes are sharp, studying me intently.

  “Her eyes,” Thal murmurs.

  Verity’s eyes, he means. “I know,” I say stiffly, a silent warning.

  The Bloodbane smirks. “I see you took part in the glorious battle, on the losing side, I presume.”

  I wave a hand to my wounds. “Courtesy of Sadal Melik, your groom.”

  She curls her lip. “What brings you down? If I had known the King of Alnembra was going to grace me with his presence, I would have cleaned up a little.”

  “No need,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her sarcasm. “We need to talk about Sadal.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” she snarls.

  “Oh, but there is.” I lace my fingers together. “While you’re in here, enjoying my hospitality. Thousands of your sisters died fighting the Fae today. We destroyed their forces before they could so much as make a dent in my army.”

  She glowers at me. “You came down here to gloat?”

  “No. I came down here to talk about Sadal. You might care to know that he didn’t intervene until almost all of the Bloodbane had fallen, and most of the demons as well,” I say bluntly.

  I watch as her eyes grow cold with icy rage. Her shoulders stiffen. There’s a rustling noise as she rises to her feet and stalks towards the bars. She scowls at me. “How many?”

  “How many what?” I ask, cocking a brow.

  She presses her dangerously beautiful face against the bars. “How many Bloodbane?” She hisses.

  “At least five thousand,” I whisper.

  “Five thousand,” she echoes. She falls back from the bars and closes her eyes. “Cleo. My name is Cleo.”

  “Cleo,” I murmur. “How do we defeat Sadal?”

  She laughs mirthlessly. “You want to fight the dark god?”

  “It’s the only way to prevent carnage on both sides,” I say forcefully.

  “You could always surrender,” she says, smirking.

  “We both know Sadal won’t be stopped by a white flag,” I argue. “Are you always this obstinate? Or are you simply loyal to the dark god?”

  Cleo narrows her eyes. “Don’t insult me.”

  “Which part was insulting?” I cock a brow.

  “I hate him,” she hisses. “I’ve hated him since before you were born, Altair.”

  I look at her curiously. “Why?”

  “You want to know about defeating him?” She says, ignoring my question. “Then you need to meet the first Bloodbanes.”

  Thal scoffs. “The first Bloodbanes? Aren’t they the crones and hags that wither away in your keep?”

  She glares at him. “You are?”

  “Thal,” he says, giving her a little smirk.

  Cleo turns back to me, ignoring him. “He hasn’t said much but I can tell that’s not because he was listening ever-so-intently.”

  I snort as Thal’s eyes flash angrily. To his credit, Thal doesn’t draw his dagger or stalk towards her. He simply rolls his eyes at her. I glance between the two of them, animosity thick in the air. “Tell me about the first Bloodbane.”

  “The first women to succumb to Sadal’s charms were much cleverer than the women that followed,” Cleo says, leaning against the bars. “They wanted the power, but not the strings. Of course, Sadal wasn’t quite as adept at trapping his precious brides into eternities of torture with him. Th
ey outsmarted him easily.”

  “Outsmarted him?” I say disbelievingly.

  “According to whispered legends, they were quite the temptresses themselves,” Cleo says wickedly, eyes gleaming. “Imagine, the ancient Fae women; naked and powerful and glorying in the earth. What new god wouldn’t try to meet their demands?”

  “So, he wasn’t always a god,” I say with bright eyes. I lean forward, ignoring the pain. “What was he before?”

  Cleo shakes her head. “That I don’t know.”

  “How did these first Bloodbane outsmart Sadal? What does that mean?” Thal asks. I can hear the frustration in his voice as Cleo keeps dancing around the question.

  “They made him agree to give them power, they might have even loved him for a time, but they refused to give up themselves. That’s the downfall of every Bloodbane witch, you see. Now, we give up our whole selves for power, for freedom, for love.” Her eyes grow dark, a frown tugging at her lips. “At least, that’s what we think he gives us. But it’s only chains.”

  “What happened?” I ask.

  The torch light flickers in her eyes. “They left him when he started to make demands of them. He grew greedy and they were children of the earth; they were free. They didn’t want him anymore. So, they left.”

  “Do they still have their power?” I ask, the words tumbling from my lips. “Are they more powerful than Maaz? Where are they now?”

  “They kept their power. But more importantly, they know more about Sadal than anyone in this world or in the ether. They were his for eons,” Cleo explains. “If they’re still alive, you would find them in the wastelands.”

  Thal cocks a brow. “There’s nothing out there. They couldn’t have survived.”

  “The wastelands are the only place Sadal would never go,” Cleo snaps.

  My brows furrow in confusion. No one has been to the wastelands for thousands and thousands of years, since before my father was born. I’ve seen paintings of the dreary region, covered in pale dust and cracked earth. It’s hard to imagine anyone living there now.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, staring thoughtfully at her.

  “Positive,” she says through gritted teeth.

  I look at Thal. He glances down at me and shakes his head warningly. He doesn’t trust this Bloodbane. He wouldn’t trust any Bloodbane. I wouldn’t either, except that I’ve never heard a witch proclaim her hatred of Sadal so intensely. I believe her.

  “Thal,” I murmur. I meet his gaze, lips pressed into a tight line. “I need you to do something for me. Something dangerous.”

  Chapter 7

  Verity

  In the tent, I pour over the Bloodbane text. I find myself reading more quickly than I did in the past. Now that I’m not engrossed in the Bloodbane and trapped in Sadal’s temptations, I haven’t felt that inexplicable pull towards the magic that I did before.

  Outside, I can hear the demon’s howling, celebrating their victory over the Fae army. The Bloodbane witches are drinking whatever alcohol they brew themselves in the keep and have brought with them. From time to time, they fly past the tent on their deadwood brooms with wild abandon, whooping.

  I see shadows streak past, another drunken witch trying to race the others. I stare morosely at the walls of the tent, listening. In the back of my mind, the constant thought of all the Bloodbane dying nags at me. I wonder constantly how I could end the plague that they are on the world.

  I turn back to the book, eyes roving over a page on mass poisoning. It’s not my taste, I muse, turning the ancient page. Moonlight spills into the tent as the flap opens and Sadal waltzes in. I narrow my eyes at him, but he hardly looks at me. I think back to the moment I struck him, wishing I had done more. If I had a knife in my hand, perhaps I could have ended everything then.

  I can feel the cold dagger strapped to my thigh, hidden beneath the folds of my dirty dress. The urge to reach for it now as Sadal lingers in the room is almost overwhelming. But now isn’t the time. I’m not ready.

  Sadal glances at me, as if he knows my thoughts. “You haven’t joined the festivities?”

  “I have nothing to celebrate,” I say coldly, glaring at him.

  Sadal closes the distance between us but I don’t shrink away. I straighten my shoulders, scowling. He leans over me, arms braced on either side. I can’t help turning my head as his lips hover inches from mine. My nostrils flare, heart pounding with anger and fear.

  “Verity,” Sadal murmurs. “I’m hungry for you.”

  The hair on my skin raises at his words. “Stay away from me,” I manage to say without stumbling over my words.

  A purr rumbles from his chest. “It won’t be long now, Verity. When all of this is over, tasting you will be so satisfying.”

  I wonder vaguely if he means to literally eat my body. My face pinches with fear as I imagine how much time I have until Sadal makes good on this fearsome promise. He leans closer and I feel his cold, wet tongue trail over my cheek. I flinch, stomach twisting with fear and disgust.

  When he pulls away, he licks his lips like a lion after feasting on a gazelle. He flashes me one more dangerous look before sweeping out of the tent. When he disappears from sight, I feel my body trembling. My breath, trapped in my chest, comes shattering out of me. I wipe furiously at my cheek, getting the stain of Sadal off of me.

  My hands curl into fists at my sides and I whirl back to the book. One spell, one spell specifically for Sadal. I touch the dagger through my gown to reassure myself it’s still there. One spell, and one dagger. Scowling, I tear through the book, grazing over each page to find what I need.

  And then I see it. Eyes wide, I pause mid-page turn to read more in-depth. My cheeks flush with excitement as I read the only spell in existence that can make a god mortal. In this world, I know nothing of the gods and legends and myths that revolve around their deities. I don’t know Sadal’s origins, I don’t even know if there are other old gods beside Sadal. If there are, I think wryly, they’ve neglected this realm for too long.

  But if this spell can level the playing-field between Sadal and I, perhaps I can finally make things right. Perhaps I can avenge Altair and redeem myself. I hide the book under the four-poster bed and peeks out of the tent. I need ingredients for this spell, ingredients that I know the Bloodbane will have somewhere in this camp. Since we’ve been here, I’ve seen them brewing their potions and poisons nearby.

  The witches are staggering between the tents, drunk and exhausted. I hold my dagger tightly in my hand, in case one of the witches catches me while I steal from their supplies. I slip out of the tent, tugging my hood up to obscure my face. With this hood, I’m practically invisible now. I’m one of them.

  I stalk between the tents, weaving between the distracted witches. They cackle and holler, clustering around fires with their deadwood brooms in hand. I stare as one falls hazardously close to the flames. But the broom doesn’t catch fire and the witch draws it away from the flames with a drunken apology. The other strikes her as quickly as a viper, falling on her angrily. They pummel each other, rolling across the muddy ground and snarling.

  I take a step back, shock widening my eyes. The fight intensifies, and I see a flash of silver as one pulls a dagger. The blade is coated in green; poison. I step back as they wander this way, hissing at each other.

  I whirl away, running in the opposite direction as one of the witches draws first blood. My blood is pounding in my ears as fear rushes through me. I’ve never left the tent at night before and I can feel my fear slowly beginning to petrify me. In the distance, the howling of the demons grows louder, and I wonder if they’re feeding on Bloodbane witches that accidentally wandered into range in their drunken stupor.

  I force myself to keep walking, to keep peeking into tents in search of the supplies I need. I push through a crowd of Bloodbane that are clinging to each other, looking sick. I see bottles of their alcohol littering the ground nearby. Their eyes are glazed over and half-closed. They won’t remember my prese
nce in the morning.

  A witch stumbles out of a tent, and as the tent closes, I catch a glimpse of shining beakers and heavy wooden boxes. The supplies. I rush forward, hand clutching my dagger. Casting one look around to make sure I’m not being followed; I slip into the tent.

  Inside, I find shelves and stacks of various herbs, dried body parts, powders, and mysterious liquids I don’t dare touch. I run my finger along the glass beakers and bottles, reading the short descriptions written in jagged handwriting. I grab a bundle of chalk and sticks of dried herbs. Grimacing, I shove my hands into glass containers filled with vinegar and wrap my hand around soggy frog legs. I stuff them into my cloak, trying not to gag.

  I close my eyes, trying to picture the list of ingredients the spell called for. The Azulina Mushroom. I search for the name and find them stored in a wooden box. The mushrooms are blue with wide lips. They seem fragile, so I place them carefully in my pocket.

  Suddenly, I hear the tent open. I whirl around, dagger pointed towards the door. My hand is shaking, and the tip of the blade trembles. I see a tall, thin woman framed in front of the doorway. She studies me, her face in shadow. Slowly, she pulls her hood down and my lips part in surprise as I take in the familiar face.

  Nakarr smiles wickedly at me. “Remember me, mortal?”

  “You kidnapped me,” I say, surprised. I recover and brandish my dagger at her.

  “What are you doing in here? What are you stealing?” Nakarr knocks my dagger aside with a snort of disgust. She steps around me and studies the jars and boxes I’ve put in disarray. She eyes me, looking impressed. “A death spell?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammer, refusing to drop her gaze.

  Nakarr’s lips quirk into a smile. “Perhaps you are more Bloodbane than we have thought.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, brows furrowing.

  Nakarr’s hand snakes around my shoulders and she turns me towards the door. She draws it aside, showing me the Bloodbane locked in quarrels or asleep on the ground. I stare at the Bloodbane fighting hand to hand. One of them slams her deadwood broom into the other’s cheeks. A tooth flies from her mouth, blood clinging to the roots. I twist my lips into a grimace watching them attack each other.