“What’s happening here? Goodness, man. Have you no optimism left in you?” Arthur demanded.
“The optimism died when our brothers turned for the other side and attempted to murder us.”
“Tristram—”
“We need the fae. There’s no way that we can pull this off without far more magic than any of us has on our own. Without Merlin’s wizard friends, we won’t come close to having the power.”
“The fae would sooner spit on us than join us,” Arthur said. “You know this.”
“Then do what you’ve always done in the past, Arthur. We need you to be more than a tactician. We need a goddamned diplomat. We need you to force the fae to see reason, and if not force them, convince them in the way only you could do.”
A migraine threatened to burst a blood vessel behind Nimue’s left eye. “That’s absurd.”
“You’re suggesting that I, what, march headfirst into a confrontation with a pair of fae demanding my head from their court?”
“Absolutely not,” Merlin said.
The tension in her shoulders waned. While the wizard did have his flaws, she could usually count on him to be the logical voice of reason. However, Arthur’s apprehension defied her expectations, making her wonder if this new iteration of him had been born with intelligence far exceeding his prior incarnations.
“It’s an unnecessary risk,” Galahad agreed.
“It would place him in undue danger,” the scarlet dragon said, dark curls of smoke escaping the massive red wyrm’s scaled nostrils. Belenos was gorgeous in a way that Ares was not, his horns a shade of molten gold under the newly risen sun.
“It would place us at a tactical disadvantage,” agreed the other fire dragon, Ares steepling his charcoal talons in a way reminiscent of a man pondering the next move during a game of chess.
Tristram glowered at them all. Heat flushed his throat and seeped into his face. “The alternative is that we face certain doom when the Titans decide to march. We’ll all be dead then. Arthur included. May I remind you that our gift has a finite source, and should Merlin fall, so shall we all? They seek to obliterate mankind, dragonkind, and God only knows what else.”
“You don’t seem to understand,” Nimue said quietly, with all of the patience she could muster .”If Arthur were to confront the king and queen, he would be facing his death.”
Without missing a beat, Arthur replied, “Sounds great. I’m in.”
Nimue groaned and dropped her face into both hands. “Nitwits. I’m dealing with nitwits.”
All at once, the others began to talk over each other and talk at Arthur rather than with him. Dragons disagreed with emotion-laden snarls, Merlin attempted to bring logic to the argument, and Tristram held his ground as if none of those present could squish him beneath their opposable thumb-claws.
“No,” Astrid said with the finality of a mother denying her son a final cookie before bedtime. “He can’t go there. They’ll kill him if he leaves.”
“You can talk to me, Mom. I’m right here. You can all talk to me instead of talking about me like I’m not right here.”
Heavy and oppressive silence fell over the group. When all eyes fell to Arthur, he drew himself to his full height and met their gazes in return.
“I’ve made my decision, and I won’t be moved. Whether or not there is even a scrap of a chance that my meeting King Oberon and Queen Mab will change their minds, it is worth the risk to my life. Tristram is right. We need them, and it’s foolish to believe we can do this alone. Before, you guys had two Titans on your side. Hyperion and Styx are gone.”
“So you aim to replace them with fae?” Ares asked, the ridges and horns of his draconian brow creasing over enormous yellow eyes.
As much as she wanted to kick pebbles and tantrum, something about the decisive tone of his voice weakened her knees and made her abdomen clench.
Now isn’t the time to get hot and bothered over him doing what he always does.
Except, she’d always been hot and bothered over King Arthur when the man was at his most courageous.
“I have a direct line to the King and Queen of the Winter Court,” Nimue said quietly, her voice a knife slicing through silence heavier than lead.”
“Of course you do,” Arthur replied. “You’re a lady of the court.”
“No.” She wrung her hands. During the era of wandering, murderous giants, the time for secrets had long passed. “It’s more than that, Arthur. I have the most intimate bond of all to the king and the queen. Mab and Oberon are my mother and father.”
Nine
The aftermath of Nimue’s shocking revelation led them back to Merlin’s tower, where the others had assembled who weren’t directly involved in the fight. As far as they knew, Merlin resided in the safest place in the city, next to Nimue’s lounge. And if the Titans arrived to topple the skyscraper, at least they had a dozen easily accessible magical doorways in its vast halls to scatter through to safety.
Still, for safety, Nimue convinced the group to change their meeting place to another location afterward. They couldn’t risk discovery or endangering people nearby if the Titans or their hidden supporters had reason to suspect they were in the penthouse.
“Alright. Let’s get down to the reason we’re all here,” Ares said as he pulled up a chair. “What’s this make you then? Are you the princess of Elfhame?”
“No. I abhor that title.”
“But you are Queen Mab and King Oberon’s daughter?” Galahad pressed.
“I am.”
At that, Astrid’s eyes grew wide. Wait, wait, wait. Wait a minute. I thought Titania was married to Oberon. What I read—”
“What you read? Is that what fiction tells you these days?” Nimue asked, amusement warming an otherwise chilly tone. Her laughter carried bitterness. “No. Not anymore. Once, a long while ago, they were queen and consort. Then the Great Upheaval occurred, and Oberon went his separate way, dividing the kingdom of Elfhame in the process.”
Astrid appeared at a loss, her mouth opening and closing several times. “Fae divorce? I thought they bound together forever, like the rest of us.”
“No, darling. Forever is a long journey, and the road traveled by the fae is merely longer than most others.”
Explaining the most straightforward concepts to the mortals should have exhausted her, but she found their wonder almost endearing.
“That isn’t true. We’ve been soulbound, and we don’t intend to break apart for any reason.”
How cute.
Nimue only smiled, unable to shatter the romantic views of the half-dragoness.
“We have no choice but to plead our case to the fae and ask for their aid. We are the only beings with the power to match that of the Titans. I will return home and—”
“Not alone,” Arthur cut in. “I’m going with you.”
Those were the words she’d dreaded most but had expected since their arrival. “And why would I take you with me?”
“This is my world at stake. My people in this world are in danger of extermination. If anyone should plead our case, it must be me.”
“Preposterous. The fae want you dead because of your screwing around with time and fate. You wouldn’t last a minute in our realm.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Bloody stubborn man. Fine.”
“Then, we’re all in favor of bringing the fae on board?” Arthur said, turning to the other dragons, his fellow knights, and the people he loved the most. Heads nodded around the room. “Great. Then there’s no time to waste. Everyone, spread out again. Find your safest places until it’s time to gather. And don’t go where you’d be expected. The Titans have eyes everywhere. They’ll be watching your homes.”
“Roger,” Ares said as he and Hel vanished through a portal.
“We’ll be in touch,” Astrid promised before she and Galahad did the same.
One by one, the dragons departed until only Arthur and Nimue remained.
�
�Why didn’t you ever tell me that Oberon and Mab are your parents?”
“It was never any of your business,” Nimue replied curtly, only to feel like a bitch. Her family problems weren’t his fault. Softer, gentler, she added, “I didn’t want to be associated with them. I wanted to be known for the quality of my deeds and not for my connections in Elfhame.”
“That makes sense. I can understand that.”
“I suppose there isn’t a moment to waste then.
An autumn-scented breeze carried dead leaves and decaying flower petals on the wind of a kingdom on the brink of perpetual winter. Nimue and Arthur arrived in an expansive forest. Slim silver trunks crowned with golden and copper leaves stretched toward a sky that shimmered like an opal. A delicate frost coated many of the branches to lend them a diamond glow.
Nimue gave Arthur a moment to acclimate to the change in surroundings, then started her way through the woods, not following any discernible path. She didn’t need one. Home called to her like a beacon, the ebb of power tugging at her heart and soul.
“Back door?” Arthur finally asked, voice low.
“Of a sort. Better not to flaunt your presence until I’ve pled your case, don’t you think?”
“I don’t like hiding.”
“It’s not hiding. It’s survival.”
While few humans would consider Elfhame a safe haven, and most would certainly never trespass within the home realm of the fae, Arthur had never been like most humans. Even when he’d been a simple man of mortal blood, he’d performed exceptional feats of courage and proven capable of meeting any challenge. It shouldn’t have surprised her in the least that he was willing to face certain death by approaching the very fae who had ordered his death.
“Hm.”
Nimue knew that hm. It was the sound of a man who had something to say and wanted her to ask him what he had to say. Because of this, she ignored it, thoroughly reminded of why she’d always been thankful for the cycle of death and rebirth each time Arthur reincarnated.
Instantly, guilt drowned those bitter little feelings. No matter how much Nimue longed for their little breaks, she always missed him in the end and eagerly awaited his return.
Yet when Arthur hadn’t surfaced—when he hadn’t reincarnated for centuries—she had not sought him.
In hindsight, a wiser woman would have awakened Merlin from his slumber and demanded answers sooner, but she would never admit that to Arthur and let him know she’d actually missed him over the years.
How could she possibly confess that even now, centuries later, with a new body and features unfamiliar to her, he was as handsome as he was the day he stood among the crowd of young men desperate to draw a magic sword from the stone. Then, she’d wandered in the disguise of an old beggar woman, intrigued by Merlin’s game and curious about the man from the woods. Never in a million years had she expected to fall in love with him. Nor had she expected to have her heart broken so thoroughly.
Yet that love never faded away.
The deeper they moved into the forest, the more apparent their destination became until the looming mountain came into view between two silver fir trees. On that mountain, the most magnificent palace awaited them, the creation of snow, stone, and ice framed by a winter forest forming a canopy above a thriving city carved from the mountain face.
Before Arthur could admire more of the winter kingdom, guards met them at the end of the ice-encrusted path and obstructed the passage with shining spears. Arthur tensed beside her.
“We are here to see my mother and father. Let us pass.”
“He is not welcome here, Lady Nimue. In fact, we have orders to end this creature at first si—”
“King Arthur is under my protection. There will be no ending anyone this day.”
“King?” the faerie guard challenged, laughter in his expression. “Ruler of what kingdom? King of what nation? He has nothing.”
To his credit, Arthur did not give the insolent fae what he deserved, and he remained a stoic example of a diplomat. Nimue did not feel so in control of her emotions. “Let us by or—”
“Allow them to pass.” The voice of Queen Mab held power and commanded attention, booming from all around them in every direction as if a dozen Mab’s surrounded them.
Nimue didn’t say another word. She didn’t even gloat at the scowling guards. She simply took Arthur by the hand and led him past the pair without so much as a triumphant smile.
An opalescent lift raised them as high as Merlin’s penthouse from the lowest level of the mountain to the ground floor of the palace grounds. When they reached the top, gentle sprinkles of snow blew in from the east onto the apple orchards of the courtyard; her mother’s doing.
Irritation flickered, only to swiftly vanish when she glanced at Arthur and saw his enchanted expression. A smile fought its way onto her face as she watched him crane his neck to look around. Even the impassive king could be wowed by their surroundings. His gaze kept dropping to his feet, or more precisely, to the translucent stairwell sculpted from glass.
The snowfall thickened the higher they ascended and continued even after entering the palace proper.
Nimue guided him to the throne room at the center. The place was both autumn forest and tundra landscape, rainy days mingled with frost and the cusp of winter, a perfect reflection of the two monarchs seated on silver thrones. He stopped a respectful distance away and bowed deeply.
“Your Majesties.”
Nimue favored her father the most. Even in the moonlight, snow falling all around them, his hair shone the deep red of autumn oak leaves. Unlike Mab, he smiled upon seeing them. Meanwhile, her mother wore what Nimue liked to call the resting bitch queen face.
“Mother and Father.” Nimue curtsied, observing the usual courtesies. “Allow me to present King Arthur Drakenstone.”
“Bold of him to come here. I suspect you put him up to it then? Of course, I’d expect nothing else from you, my dear. Come.” Oberon rose and held out his arms, and Nimue happily went to him. She and her father shared a special bond, but she loved her mother no less. After embracing Oberon, she leaned over and kissed her mother’s chilly cheek.
“Please listen to what he has to say,” she pleaded softly before stepping back and rejoining Arthur at his side. He barely perceived her slight nod.
He looked so nervous she feared he would combust in the middle of the throne room.
“I’ve come to ask for your aid against the Titans.”
“The Titans do not threaten Elfhame,” Oberon said. “For what reason would we join you?”
“To ignore the threat would be a death sentence that condemns every mortal,” Arthur replied.
Of the two, Nimue hoped that her father would have more empathy for the situation, yet his neutral expression left her uncertain about gaining his help. He carefully avoided her gaze, attention solely on Arthur, while Mab paid none of them any attention at all.
“We are not mankind’s shepherds. Few even believe in us anymore. We are myths and bedtime stories venerated by few who keep the faith.”
“Because you willingly choose to remain unknown. Humans know their myths are real now. They know dragons and vampires thrive among them. They accept witches and shapeshifters.”
“Do they?”
Arthur’s brief pause hung heavy in the air. Oberon’s gaze flicked toward Nimue, filled with so much sympathy that her heart twisted. Arthur had his work cut out for him if he was going to win her father’s vote.
Tall and elegant as ever, Mab rose and smoothed the voluminous fabric of her ivory gown, her cold expression unchanging. “I leave our guest with you, my darling, while I have a word with Nimue. You know my thoughts regarding this matter. Now you may form your own.”
With a last look at Arthur and hope that he’d be a persuasive negotiator, Nimue followed her mother from the spire, trailing her in silence until they reached the ground once more. Mab never looked back to see if she followed. Eventually, their path brought t
hem to a familiar garden, where frosted purple roses grew in bushes taller than Nimue stood. A curious hive of pixies peeked out from their nest then swarmed out, circling around her with excited chimes. Nimue laughed and held out her hands for the tiny creatures.
“They’ve missed you,” Mab said.
“And I miss them.”
“You’d miss them less if you came home more often.”
Wearisome as it was to hear the same censure, Nimue also had to admit that her mother was right. Her visits home had been far and few in the last century. Humans and all their complexity interested her more than fae bickering and banquets. Unfortunately, despite all its other charms, the mortal realm didn’t have friendly pixies.
“You’re right, Mother. I’ll make a better effort to come home.”
When Mab’s eyes narrowed with skepticism, her gaze swept over Nimue from head to toe then back again, as if she were seeking out a lie.
“Why did you really come here, Nimue?”
“Well, you never come to visit me at the Violet Hour.”
“Step into your den of vice and extravagance? Never.”
“Not much different from the court,” Nimue said sweetly. Her mother’s dismissal of her lifestyle still stung, though she’d long since learned not to dwell on the disappointment. Mab was who she was, and there was no changing her views.
Why do I even bother? She’s made her mind up long before we arrived.
Her mother’s lips pursed. Rather than the expected reprimand for her cheeky response, her mother gestured her closer. “Come, I wish to show you something.”
Mab didn’t need a magical portal to travel between realms. She simply chose where she wished to be, and there she was in a whirl of snow and a twist of shadow. The fae garden around them wavered and shimmered, colors fading and blending to the black and fluorescent hues of the city. Nimue recognized the rooftop to her building immediately. She arched a brow, curious as to their presence in a place her mother despised but bit her tongue. Her mother would explain herself when ready.
King of Avalon: a Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance (Rise of the Elder Gods Book 2) Page 9
