Teagan

by Sharilyn Skye

  Teagan

  The Eight Book Three

  By

  Sharilyn Skye

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons living or dead is coincidental.

  Copyright 2020 by Sharilyn Skye

  All Rights Reserved

  Ebook ISBN: 978133313469

  Paperback ISBN: 978133313476

  First Edition: April 11th 2020

  Cover Design: PaigeLCroPhotography

  Cover Photo: Dreamstime:© Branislav Ostojic

  Dark Horse Publishing

  Morgantown, WV

  #countryroads

  “But I’ve never ever been a blue calm sea

  I have always been a storm.”

  ~Stevie Nicks

  “Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.”

  ~William Shakespeare, The Tempest

  “We may encounter many defeats, but we must not be defeated.”

  ~ Maya Angelou

  Chapter One

  Teagan

  Being kidnapped by trolls isn’t what I thought it would be, not that I had put much thought into it. I never dreamed such a thing could happen. One minute I’m sitting with the rest of The Eight in Ari’s bakery, and the next, I’m tossed over the shoulder of the giant, green, foul-smelling creature and taken rather gently through the countryside at a high rate of speed.

  I heard the screams and clash of swords as I was carried away but could do nothing to stop it. Despite my bulk and strength, the beast holding me pinned me with one hand and hauled me across the land to this strange place.

  I’ve been treated well so far. The Troll dropped me at the gates of the strangest place I ever saw and left me there. Its peaceful exit was not my first clue that this entire event was planned, it wasn’t even the most significant clue, but it was a clue all the same. I had seen the things circle Ari as I bounced upside down against the Trolls ass and knew this was a targeted strike.

  Fucking Trolls.

  Fucking Queen.

  I sat in front of a mirror dressed in a long silver gown that dipped to show my cleavage. It fits my curves perfectly, and a long slit showed my muscular legs. A small train trailed behind the thing covered with platinum accents and decorative glass. It weighed a ton. My mess of odd hair was piled on my head, and my dark skin shone in the pale light from the sconces on the wall. Gold flecked eyes stared back at me and wondered again about this strange turn.

  I’d been here three months, time enough to acclimate to their language and pass several tests given to all warrior females. Never had I imagined this place existed. Never had I heard of the Eruhini or Eregion, yet these people are our cousins from the old days. The Winter Court to the Fae Summer, so says their Queen.

  It is a strange land of ice and snow. The winter is harsh and endless. Tall spires of ice and mountains block the sky and surround a palace made of burnished black stone. A town surrounds the palace that, from the windows high above, appears almost normal. Almost.

  These people are all the same. I stand out in the sea of either silver, white, or black hair and pale skin like a beacon. I’ve fought my way through their ranks with each test they give and have found that they are true warriors.

  Were Ari here, she would have killed the Queen and been home with her men already, but my skills with a sword are not as sharp, so I only made it to Second Sword, whereas the Queen is First. Many a warrior was stunned by me. All of them can kiss my ass.

  If they were thinking to steal a weak Fae female, they screwed up. Big time. Though Ari is better with a sword, I am better with my fists and heavier weapons like maces and the ax.

  Females here are not as rare as they are in Talamh na Sithe, but they are still significantly outnumbered by the males. However, in this land of ice and snow, women rule. Everything. It’s odd. Not the only odd thing, but a very odd thing.

  According to Queen Kharis, they need to add some diversity to their population and hoped that stealing a few Fae females would do it. They wanted Airmed and two other girls. That they know of Ari at all was the biggest clue as to how this transpired.

  Queen Kharis looks like a silver-haired version of Aramea. She has a black streak running through her wavy silver hair, and her eyes are blue, not green, but the similarities are there. She shares the same cold looks and dark glares, and I know they are related, perhaps even sisters.

  Not even when I bested her warriors in testing has she been unkind or threatening. Still, the propensity to violence is there in her eyes. Those eyes met mine in the mirror as I placed the last touch of paint on my lashes.

  “You look stunning. Every male in the pen will clamor to serve you,” she said, walking to me and placing her fair hands on the silver fabric of my dress. The contrast against my skin is stunning. At home, I would wear red or other bright colors, but I have to admit the silver is not bad, it’s just not something I would have chosen.

  “Thank you, my Queen,” I said, reverting to my formal tone with her. My stomach dropped at the thought of what was to come; I didn’t agree with any of it.

  “I’ve told you hundreds of times to call me Kharis, none of that formal my Queen stuff, please. This is not Talamh na Sithe, and I am not my sister,” she said, confirming my suspicions.

  “Kharis, thank you for the dress, it’s lovely.” I moved to stand, but she placed her hands on my shoulders and used her strength and size to keep me in my seat.

  I’m not tall, not like her, but I am not short like Ari, either. I mean, no one can be short like Ari, but I’m not tall like most Fae or Erhu either.

  “I’m glad to see it covers your tattoos,” she added, bringing a rueful smile to my face.

  I was dropped at the gates in the Spring while there was still snow and ice on the ground. Once summer had reached its height and the snow melted, I ventured outside to put my bare feet into the warm, sparse grass and was taken to the ground by the flow magic.

  My keepers had watched in horror as magic tattooed my skin from the toes on my left foot up and over my hips and back around to my arm. Only the left side was marked. Out of all the strange things, this may have been the most bizarre. The tattoo was silvery-white on my darker skin and made of beautiful swirls in continuous lines from toes to fingers. The design was ancient-looking and triggered something deep in my hindbrain to turn on and function. I have no idea what they were for, but they were there all the same. The Queen had not been happy about any of it.

  In Eregion, only slaves have tattoos, yet I am not a slave.

  The slit in my dress exposed my right leg, not the left. Although most know the tattoos are there, Kharis wants them covered.

  Her hands rested heavily on my shoulders a moment before she lifted them. “Your trials are through, tonight we accept you as one of our own. You’ve earned your place as my second blade, my first fighter, and my third anvil. Had I known what a warrior you are, I would have shown the Trolls your drawing and commanded they retrieve you specifically. They chose well. We are honored.” I watched her vacant eyes, not sure I believed her.

  I missed my friends, that’s true enough, but that’s all I missed. I’d been in two households in a short time and had nothing to show for it. I had been given to a total of eight men and was still a virgin. None had been unkind, and for that, I am grateful.

  In the first home, the men had been together so long that they could not accept a female into their lives. They had dressed me up like a doll, done my hair, and treated me kindly, but they had no interest at all in a sexual relationship. They wanted a daughter, not a wife.

  The Queen came one day and demanded that she view a mating, saying it was an old custom, and she needed to confirm that our contract could be
fruitful. The men had lain down, cradled me, held my hands, held one another’s hands, cried, cajoled, and pleaded, but they could not perform the act. They all sobbed and clung to each other as I was taken from them.

  In the second place, the men planned to take a few days for us to become accustomed to one another. The Trolls saw to it that there would never be a chance to consummate our relationship.

  Here? Goddess, are things different here.

  “Ready Teagan Rilynoquar?” the Queen said, standing straight and tall while drawing me from my thoughts.

  She had changed my surname to make up for the fact that my name was very Fae sounding and not at all Erhuhini. Once my trials were completed, the other warriors had chosen for me. They say it means House of The Fist, for that is what I am to them now. A fighter. First Fist. Funny how my sister is the same in Talamh na Sithe, only no one knows it but The Eight.

  “Yes, Kharis. I’m ready.” There was no choice, I thought as I rose from the chair and strode behind her from the room.

  The Palace is immense. It took me the better part of my time simply to find the Throne room. I’d been granted a large suite of rooms in an empty, unused section of the place. Everything I could want and more than I need is available to me. There is more wealth here than I imagined possible.

  We walked down marble halls with platinum, crystal, and mirrored accents. The sword strapped to my back rustled softly as I went.

  This land has electric. It took me weeks to figure out I did not need candles or flames to light my way or heat my food; I had only to flip a switch or turn a knob. They use torches and candles for effect, but there is no need.

  The water for my baths is always hot, and they have fountains from the walls of their bathing rooms that emit a stream of water they call a shower. It’s insanity. They trade goods with other realms and brought this so-called technology back with them. I can’t say it’s a bad thing.

  When I’m settled, as they say, I will take a house of my own. Until then, I stay in the palace occupying more space than one person or six could use alone.

  Like everything else, that would change.

  I followed the swish of the Queen’s skirts and the lights glinting off the sword across her back down the stairs and into the Great Hall. Talamh na Sithe has one of these too, but it smells like pain and old blood. This hall is twice the size of that one and smells like fresh pine and newly fallen snow.

  Every warrior in the land lines the walls. Hundreds of women in silver and white stand at attention, swords strapped to their backs, and tall glaives in their hands. The blades on the glaives gleam and reflect the light so that the contents of the makeshift pens in the center of the room are highlighted by ever shifting bright spots.

  Men crouched at the sides of their Warriors and in the pens crowding the center of the room, moved here tonight for just this purpose.

  “Tonight, we welcome Teagan Rilynoquar, First Fist, Second Blade, and Third Anvil; long may she live!” Kharis announced, her voice booming out across the vast space.

  “Long may she live!” the warriors said in unison, their voices loud enough to shake the delicate glass pieces hanging from the chandeliers above the floor.

  “Warriors all, add your blood to the cup, and we’ll drink for our health!” Taking her sword and holding it high, the Queen sliced across her palm and let a few drops of blood dribble into a large silver cup set on a dais at the front of the hall.

  Each woman came, repeating the process until the cup was full. As they passed me, they stopped, gripping my forearm with theirs and leaving bloody prints on the bared skin of my right arm.

  When at last it was my turn, I took my sword and added my blood to theirs.

  “Daughters of Eregion,” Kharis started, stopping to allow for the single thump each woman made with her glaive upon the marble floor. “We unite to accept and welcome Teagan into the ranks of the best warriors in all the lands. May she fight hard, bear many daughters, and die covered in the blood of her enemies.” The Queen shouted the last bit, and the room erupted into raucous cheers. Woman pounded their glaives over and over onto the floor until the din was breathtaking.

  Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. There hadn’t been a battle since I’d been here. The women trained and worked, but the place had been nothing but peaceful since my arrival.

  Picking up the cup, the Queen brought it to my lips, tilting it so that my only recourse was to drink or wear a bloody gown. I took one gulp of the viscous stuff, choking it down. I was grateful when she pulled the cup away and brought it to her lips. When she finished, the women rushed forward, grabbing for the cup so that each might sip our joined blood.

  Fights broke out, and cheers rose, filling the hall with so much noise that the bones in my ears vibrated. I stood side by side with the Queen and watched the cup get passed around until it was empty, and the women were once again lining the walls.

  “And now you must choose your House. Three men to serve you through the days of their life. They are yours until their death. As they provide for your needs, you provide for their safety. Their decisions are yours to make. Their punishments yours to bear. Choose wisely.” Kharis opened the gate to the pen, where men knelt, separated into groups of three. “It’s smarter to pick bonded Trios, but if a particular slave strikes your fancy, I will remake a Trio to include it.

  And here was the part of all this I dreaded. For months I had known it would come to this. I didn’t care about the ceremony, the blood, or even being here. I liked this place. I fit in, despite my coloration.

  I enjoyed the freedom that came with being female in this place. I had no desire to run home through Troll country to regain what? Friendships I was practically forbidden to enjoy? No, I liked it here just fine.

  I walked through the groups of men, their pale skin oiled and shimmering in the lights above. They wore paneled leather skirts that separated into sections as they knelt, and thin studded straps crisscrossed their chests and backs. Their muscles danced and twitched from the effort it took to kneel for this length of time. Their hair was a mix of silver, black, or both just like everyone else. There was minimal color among their ranks, except for a few other women they had stolen from one place or another. And me; I imagined they’d never seen anything like me before.

  I didn’t want to own men, I could barely take care of myself, yet they expected me to pick out a Trio of slaves to provide for. I didn’t think it was right, but I kept my thoughts on the matter to myself. It was the most significant thing about Eregion I found distasteful. Had I wanted a choice in Talamh na Sithe? Of course, I had. The opportunity to walk my path was one thing; this type of choice was something else entirely.

  Keeping my face blank and my eyes forward, I walked through them. “Eyes up where I can see them,” I commanded. In this place, appearances are everything. I had to appear strong. I had to appear commanding. In other words, I had to fake it ‘till I made it.

  Some of the men reached out to touch the hem of my gown, others shook where they knelt, and others watched me as directed. Here and there, I allowed my hand to trail over a shoulder or brush aside long hair. I used my left hand and not my right. After being tattooed, sometimes, I felt things.

  What does one do with three male slaves? In this land, whatever one wants.

  Their tattoos were not like mine. Where mine are delicate and twisting things, theirs were darker, more primal, and masculine. Rods pierced their nipples, and all were waxed free of hair unless the men here did not grow it. They were bare as babes, not that I’d ever seen one of those either, I just assumed.

  I ruffled straight hair and skimmed bald heads, feeling nothing. My newfound ability gave me no insight as to which Trio to choose. I didn’t want any Trio. At least not like this, but it was the price to pay for being in Eregion and was not optional. I was on the backside of the middle row when I met the bright gray eyes of a man with long silver hair braided down his back and felt something travel down my spine and settle in my core.<
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  I had asked all the men to keep their eyes raised. Few had been able to do it, and those who did kept them fixed on some spot ahead. This man met my eyes as I looked across the backs of the others, and I found that intriguing. The two other men in the Trio had their eyes up as well, taking me in, but stopping short of looking at my face.

  One of them had blue eyes, which are rare here. Blue eyes are royal eyes, most people had gray or silver eyes, but his eyes were strikingly blue. Black hair skimmed his shoulders, and a stripe of pure white ran through the hair at his temple.

  The other man had eyes that looked black from this distance. The black hair that lay pulled into a loose knot at the base of his neck had a gentle wave to it. They were, by far, the most interesting group to me.

  Walking over to them, I trailed my hands down the spine of the silver-haired man who still pinned my eyes, feeling electricity shoot through my hand, down the tattoos, and through my toes. I kept my surprise to myself.

  A muffled grunt from him had the Queen swinging a leather tipped whip against his side. “Eyes down and be silent,” she said, letting her whip hit him twice, sending my blood boiling.

  “This Trio will do nicely,” I said, modulating my voice so that my fury didn’t show.

  “I suggested you choose wisely, Teagan, these are not the wisest choice. Their former owner bore many a scar on her back as she was unable to keep them in line.” She raised her whip again and moved to strike the man a third time.

  “I like a challenge, My Queen, they are mine now. Stay your hand, if you will. He is mine to punish,” I reached for the man’s chin, turning it left and then right as if to inspect it. “If there are to be marks on him, I will place them,” I finished. His eyes narrowed on mine, and I gave him a little wink, making sure no one but he could see it.