Mab walked to the edge of the building and stood at the ledge, her face turned toward the city. After a few tense, silent moments, she twisted around to face Nimue once again, her slim form bathed in moonlight. While Nimue had the appearance of flame, her mother was all ice; fair skin, blue-black hair, crimson lips, and a preference for blue and silver silk. It was a wonder they were related at all.
“Look around you, Nimue. What do you see?”
It was an easy answer when the city below was full of activity and noise. “Living people.”
“Destruction.” Mab’s sharp voice cut like a knife. “Miles of grass dead beneath the concrete. Acres of forests are torn asunder for trite baubles and worthless trash. Streams brim with toxins.”
“And here I thought the mighty Winter Court thrived on death, decay, and murder.” It was a childish, snippy thing to say, but there was no taking back her words. The disappointment in her mother’s expression hurt more than any angry words would.
“Death is a natural part of the world, giving way for new life in the great cycle. That life eventually fades. Decays. Then the cycle begins anew. Balance, Nimue, in all things. This must be observed, respected, and protected. Wanton destruction hurts all of us. Smell the air. Taste their rancid filth. They heap stone over stone and bathe in their own excrement. These mortals care nothing of the world they inhabit. Why should we?”
The sad part was that nothing her mother said was a lie. Nimue pursed her lips and stared into the distance, watching the packed street of cars and pedestrians. Exhaust choked the air around them, along with the usual whiffs of garbage and piss that seemed to float around the city.
Yet she still saw more than death. The vibrancy of humanity colored the world around them.
“I agree that the humans have done much damage, Mother, but all isn’t lost. They’re beginning to see their own follies and attempting to make amends. Cleaner energy, planting trees for those they take—”
“It is not enough. You’ve been away from our realm for so long you are ignorant to the impact on our kingdom.”
Guilt coiled around Nimue’s heart. “I didn’t see….”
“No, you did not.” Mab’s tone softened slightly. “Our worlds may be separate, but they are forever bound together by fate and spirit. One cannot be whole without the other. Come, let me show you.”
Within moments of the city transitioning to a dazzling winter scene, not unlike the lands over which her mother and father presided, Nimue realized something was wrong with the serene landscape.
Water streams ran freely down the sides of the mountain as the lowest points melted. The glaciers floating freely in the water were little more than a scattering of ice cubes. Nimue knew this place intimately—her mother had once brought her there as a child, and they’d been delighted by polar bears and hunting animals pursuing their prey down the floating ice bridges.
“The mountain is melting.”
“Indeed,” Mab said.
“That… doesn’t mean anything. Temperatures change, Mother. You’ve told me yourself that you watched the ice age sweep through this world and the rise and fall of many civilizations.”
“Yes. Over thousands of years, my love. These humans have done in centuries what time and nature accomplished over several millennia.”
“It isn’t too late to make changes.”
“The dragons have the power to replenish and heal the world, but they have spent years frolicking as children would. Perhaps if they spent less time fucking and more tending to the world as they were designed to do, both of our realms would be in better shape.”
Another wave of magic swept over them. Cool mint and smoke, wisps of shadow embraced her, and when she opened her eyes again, she and her mother balanced upon the edge of a cliff overlooking the Amazon.
A million trees stretched before them.
“If you’re trying to further your case, Mother, bringing me to the Amazon is hardly the way.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, dear. Neither does willful ignorance. Look.”
Nimue didn’t want to look. She already knew what to expect before seeing the loggers and felt the land crying out in pain. She knew what to expect before she felt the echoes of bloodshed.
“Given time, they will spoil even this. But it can be stopped. This can all remain wild and green, ripe with food and filled with birdsong. Titania and I are in agreement—”
“You’ve spoken with Titania?”
“Yes. Such a matter of grave importance required a meeting between the courts. Her land suffers. Her kingdom is rotting from the inside, and the humans are to blame. But once the humans are gone, we can come out again and dance beneath the moonlight without fear of being hunted. We will be the hunters, as we once were. That is the freedom the Titans will bring.”
Tension wound itself in her gut, bringing a chill to her skin. “Mother, what have you done?”
“Done? Nothing.”
“So you haven’t made a deal with the Titans.”
“No.”
“Do you intend to?”
A graceful shrug was her only response. Mab’s gaze remained fixed on a distant point, her face painted with warm light. It took another moment for Nimue to determine what it was her mother watched. A flock of birds took off from the area, disturbed by movement. Not a movement from the ground but from the trees themselves. As they shifted, she made out the shape of an enormous arm and the curve of a naked spine before everything went still once more. The humanoid form became unmistakable.
“Mother, did you bring me here to speak with Gaia?”
“I have no plans to deal with the Titans if that’s what you wish to know. However, I also do not plan to intervene. Things must follow the natural order.”
“That’s what you call this? Natural order?”
“Look closer, Nimue. The mere presence of a Titan here has flushed this forest with life. You can feel it all sprouting, deep in the earth. Elsewhere, wherever they are awakening, the same is happening.”
“And?”
“And I have decreed we allow it to be so. The fae shall not intervene, save for one matter.” Mab turned and finally settled her gaze on her daughter. “Arthur.”
“What of him?”
“He has used old and forbidden magic. He is trying to alter nature’s course, and we will not allow it.”
Her stomach dropped, and for a moment, it felt as if she were in free fall, sending her heart racing. “Please, for my sake, do not do this.”
Mab reached out and stroked Nimue’s hair, her dark eyes sympathetic. “I know this pains you, though I do not understand why. I remember when you came to me, not in tears, but filled with rage and fury, consumed by your bitterness. You never wanted to return to the mortal realm.”
“But I did.”
“Because you are my daughter, and I raised no quitter. Have you not spent centuries pushing him away for his betrayal?”
“And life after life, I always seek him out. And he seeks me,” she admitted, hating the way her heart squeezed tight within her chest. She met her mother’s gaze. “Because you have not raised a quitter. A thousand years ago was not our time. Now, it may be. He doesn’t deserve death for this.”
“What would you do in my place?”
The unexpected question gave Nimue pause. For once, rather than give her mother a flippant response, she took a moment to consider the matter. Mab didn’t rush her. In fact, her mother appeared satisfied by her restraint.
“Let him continue his plan,” Nimue said slowly. Her mother didn’t interrupt, waiting for her to finish her thoughts. “Yes, old magicks were used, but the mere fact that Merlin could cast them could be seen as providence. It could be that Arthur was meant to come back to restore balance to an inequality we haven’t yet seen. The Titans tip it as much as his trip through time does. So let him be, even if it means you stay out of the fight.”
“An interesting argument.”
Her heart fluttered, fast as a hum
mingbird. “Will you accept my proposal?”
“I will consider it.”
With that said, her mother brought them home to Elfhame.
Ten
Being left alone with the fae king gave Arthur the uneasy feeling of being small and helpless. This was, he imagined, what a teenage boy felt like the first time he picked a girl up for a date and met her parents.
He was no nervous teenager.
With his resolve strengthened by that thought, Arthur’s posture straightened, and he met the king’s gaze head-on. Oberon promptly smiled. Within seconds, a weight lifted from Arthur’s mind, the intrusive magic fading away. All of his feelings of self-doubt and unworthiness vanished.
“Do you always try to intimidate guests with your power?” Arthur challenged.
Oberon’s smile widened to an unnerving width. “Ah, you saw through me quickly. It is little different than presenting Excalibur, a symbol of your power and strength. Can you claim to have never wielded such authority over a guest?” Oberon asked.
Arthur conceded the point with a bow of his head. Some battles were better left alone, especially when dealing with the fae. “I hope we can be frank with one another moving forward.”
“As do I. I wish to better know the man who ties my daughter to the mortal plane.”
“With all due respect, Your Majesty—”
“Oberon, please. We are, after all, equals in rank.”
“Oberon. With all due respect, Nimue is her own woman. I have never asked her to stay away from her home, nor would I.”
“We shall see.” Oberon closed the distance between them. He stood at an equal height with Arthur, though his crown of twisting branches extended another foot upwards. “Please, allow me to show you our kingdom. We seldom have mortal visitors anymore.”
“When was your last?”
“Five decades, give or take. If I recall correctly, the fellow was a painter. His greatest dream was to memorialize our realm on canvas.”
Two winged creatures coasted down and perched on a nearby branch as large as a log. They reminded Arthur of bats crossed with lions scaled to the size of an elephant. Indigo fur covered their bodies but faded lighter in the thick mane around their necks. Oberon climbed astride one and waited, watching expectantly while patting a dappled gray wing. Arthur approached the second, taking a moment to let it get his scent while he ran his hand over its shaggy mane and admired the iridescent strands.
Pretending not to notice the fae king’s approving smile, Arthur scratched the creature behind one of its enormous ears before swinging onto its back with ease.
Their flight took them across an impressive forest with more than the dreary and desolate waste he’d expected from old tales. He caught glimpses of communities below, men and women dressed in beautiful colors matching the landscape itself, down to the colorful winter flower fields dotting the dry grass with jewel colors.
“You seem surprised.” Oberon’s voice carried across the distance as if he were right beside Arthur. “Did you expect something else?”
“More ice, I suppose. Old tales make the Unseelie out to be dark and haggard beings.”
Oberon laughed and said no more. A whistle cued their rides to veer sharply to the left, bearing them toward a line of craggy peaks. The wind grew colder, each breath coming out as fog. By the time they landed, goosebumps had risen on Arthur’s skin, and he wished he’d worn a jacket. Still, those were minor concerns compared to the circle of fae warriors who stood at attention feet away. They all wore identical black armor that shimmered in the tones of a beetle carapace.
“Do you plan to kill me here, Oberon?”
And if the king planned to murder him, could he even put up a fight against so many sidhe knights and the king himself?
“Not at all. However, I find the true measure of a man most evident in the way he fights.”
“This feels more like an ambush.”
“On my word, Arthur, you will leave this peak alive. A duel is all that is asked of you. The knights of your legendary round table are a curiosity of mine. I would like to know if there is truth to the myth. My finest warrior has requested this honor, and I could not help but indulge for the sake of my own curiosity.”
Arthur skimmed his gaze across the knight. When it came to the face, things were rarely straightforward and clear. He knew better than to seek out the largest and heaviest of the knights. His gaze flew past several ogres and skipped past a troll with a blue face crisscrossed in white scars.
Another moment passed before Arthur saw him. Of the dozen, one whip-lean warrior watched with an anticipatory sheen in his pale blue eyes. Arthur met his gaze then bowed.
“It would be my honor to duel you.”
“Good eyes. What gave him away as your opponent.”
“His eyes.”
Oberon smiled again, without the predatory gleam for once. “Donnacha, take the field.”
The lean warrior brought his fist to his chest in salute. A swift about-face pointed him to the field beyond, and Arthur followed, aware, aware of fae in observance. Every man and woman among them saluted in the same manner. Once he moved beyond them, they turned and filed to either side of the dueling ground. Oberon remained where he was, hands clasped behind his back.
As he strode forward to meet his opponent, Arthur summoned his sword. Excalibur materialized in his hand, as familiar and comfortable as his own arm. Donnacha’s eyes widened briefly at the display, then his face was impassive once more, all his focus on Arthur.
“The fight will end when one surrenders to the other,” Oberon called out. “Begin!”
Donnacha darted forward faster than Arthur expected and feinted left. Arthur knocked his sword away at the last second and twisted away, putting distance back between them, letting the fae’s own momentum carry him past.
As it was a duel, Arthur did not attempt to strike the knight’s undefended back—not that it remained undefended for long. The moment he thought to yield to his honor, Donnacha melted before his eyes and reformed, facing the proper way. His sword flew out, whip-fast.
They traded blow after blow, Arthur’s thousand years of experience against an unknown number of fae centuries. They danced back and forth across the dueling circle, testing each other’s defenses without finding a weakness.
Arthur fell into the rhythm, always watching his opponent for subtle cues. Donnacha relied on speed over power, and his ability deserved the title Oberon had given him as his best warrior. But he wasn’t invulnerable. Arthur bided his time, waiting for the opening.
I see it!
Arthur surged forward like a freight train at that moment, taking Donnacha by surprise with sheer aggression. The other blade glanced off his sword, but he was brawnier and equally fast, something Donnacha had underestimated in his weredragon opponent.
Donnacha stumbled off balance. Even as he fell, he blocked most of Arthur’s blows, forcing him to the offensive. Arthur bashed the hilt of his sword into Donnacha’s face at the next opening.
Like most fae, pride and arrogance were a point of contention. Donnacha’s composure cracked, and he charged without the same finesse, allowing Arthur to easily bat away his attack and send the fae stumbling past. Their subsequent blows rang fast and furious, sparks flashing each time their blades met. The moment Arthur foresaw his next opening, he took it, taking a slice along his ribs to bring an end to their fight.
Donnacha’s eyes flew wide as his back struck the ground as if he couldn’t believe he’d been knocked down. Arthur leaned over him, pinning the knight’s sword hand beneath his boot, Excalibur’s point held at the fae’s throat.
“Do you yield?”
For a split second, defiance flickered in the knight’s eyes. A slight press of Excalibur against his fair skin quickly squashed any consideration of continuing the fight.
“I yield, King Arthur.”
Arthur lifted his sword away and offered his free hand, which Donnacha took. Once the fae was on his feet, he
bowed his head.
“Thank you for this honor. One day may our swords cross when fortune favors my blade.”
“A friendly rematch under the same terms would be welcome,” Arthur replied quickly, careful to phrase his words as Nimue taught him. The last thing he wanted was to fight this man to the death, or as enemies years down the road when Donnacha thought he’d be long forgotten.
One by one, the knights banged their fists against their breastplates until Donnacha joined them. The king’s wide grin and shining eyes set Arthur at ease.
“Well fought. The myths do not lie.”
“Did you learn what you hoped to?”
Oberon chuckled and started down a narrow craggy path. Arthur glanced back once before the dueling field was out of sight, watching as the knights all gathered around Donnacha in a curious cluster. There was something somewhat comforting in that, seeing that the fae acted the same way as humans. He imagined them all going over their fight, play by play. The errant thought made him smile.
The winding cliffside path led to an archway carved into the mountain face. Oberon paused at the threshold and turned around to face Arthur.
“You fought bravely against Donnacha. Fighting against a full armored man while you have only a weapon to defend yourself is….”
“Crazy?”
“Foolhardy would be my choice, but brave nonetheless. You also fought with honor. Thrice I counted opportunities for you to take advantage of the battle. You could have taken your dragon shape. Such was not excluded by the duel’s terms.”
“Hardly fair against a man with a sword. That’s not my style.”
“Exactly so. Honorable. Yet you have perverted the laws of nature not once, but twice.”
Arthur’s brows shot up. “Twice?”
“Yes. Your existence in itself is a crime against fate. A mortal is only meant to live one lifetime, but you’ve endured centuries. Life after life after life.”
“I’m not alone in that. Witches are reborn.”
King of Avalon: a Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance (Rise of the Elder Gods Book 2) Page 10
