The faerie queen was beautiful in the same way that Finn was: they were of the same blood, or whatever else coursed in their veins – brackish river water, or the clear tide that gathered in rockpools, perhaps. Her hair was the same dark gold as his, and her face as finely featured. Yet her eyes were a darker blue, and she had no tattoos on her flawless skin.
Glitonea’s tone was icy as she towered over Faye; she crouched down on the cobbles of the stone corridor so that she could meet Faye’s eyes levelly.
‘Answer me. We made a bargain, and you have not come to me to deliver what was agreed,’ the faerie queen hissed. Up close, Faye noticed that the material of her diaphanous robe seemed to be made of fish scales, gleaming in the dim lamplight; it was transparent, and underneath it, Glitonea was naked.
‘I… there hasn’t been enough time,’ Faye lied; she had absolutely no intention of either getting pregnant or of giving that baby to the faerie queen. Yet, rationality seemed a distant comfort in that moment.
‘My assistance can be withdrawn as it was given,’ Glitonea regarded Faye’s face, tracing one fingertip over her pale, sweaty forehead. ‘Though you are unwell, it seems.’ Her expression became watchful, and without warning, the faerie queen grasped at Faye’s stomach, through the silky dress, holding her hand on Faye’s abdomen. ‘Aha. Perhaps you have not betrayed my trust after all, sidhe-leth,’ Glitonea smiled wolfishly, and Faye’s hand went instinctively to her belly in protection.
‘What?’
Glitonea smiled even wider. ‘I believe that, with your kind, being with child gives you the nausea you currently find yourself with,’ she arched an imperious eyebrow. ‘Indeed, I doubted your fealty, sidhe-leth. It would seem that I had no need to question it.’
‘But I’m not…’ Faye began, and trailed off, not knowing what to say. She wasn’t pregnant, was she? Surely this was the same faerie hangover as she’d had before. She would know, surely... Her mind raced. If Glitonea wanted to believe that she was pregnant, she wouldn’t disagree: in fact, it could work to her advantage if the faerie queen thought she was with child.
‘What has brought you to this part of the castle? Did you seek me? To tell me about the child?’ Glitonea held out a hand and pulled Faye upright. Her head spun and she felt the sickness rise again, but swallowed and took a deep breath to steady herself.
‘Y-yes, my queen. Though I also sought another. A friend that Finn holds prisoner in the dungeons here.’ Faye thought quickly. The bargain of a child, her child, was a considerable one; if Glitonea believed that she truly would get what she’d asked Faye for, then she’d probably be willing to help her again. Yet Glitonea was watching her closely, and Faye knew that she was trying to tell if she was lying. She couldn’t slip up.
‘A friend?’ A secretive expression crossed Glitonea’s face; her eyes darted away from Faye’s.
‘A woman, Aisha. Finn took her, with the others, from the concert at Abercolme. I’ve seen her in dreams, and I know she’s dying here.’ Faye allowed the emotion to flood her voice, and reached for Glitonea’s hand. ‘Please, dear queen. Please help me once more. I have acted on my part of the bargain.’ She made herself lie and hoped she was doing it convincingly.
‘I have already fulfilled my side of the bargain.’ Glitonea pulled her hand away. ‘You are the one who is in my debt and not the other way around. Go back to my brother for as long as you desire to be his whore, Faye Morgan, but never think that you can ask anything else from me.’ Her voice was cold, like the sea at Abercolme in winter, where a couple of minutes of swimming would induce hypothermia. Faye shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.
‘Please, Glitonea. For the child,’ Faye appealed to the faerie queen, but Glitonea’s mouth stayed pursed in a line.
‘I do not owe you anything,’ she repeated, and turned away, opening a door opposite. ‘Look after the child for me, Faye Morgan. When it is time, I will help you in your labours. That, I will do for you,’ she sneered, and opened the door wider. ‘I have paid the price for interfering in my brother’s affairs of the heart and have promised him I will do so no more. For you see, I have my own human lover, and I would not want my brother to take this one away from me.’
The heavy wooden door swung back on its hinges as Faye stumbled forward to look inside what she realised must be Glitonea’s personal chamber. She saw inside for just a moment before Glitonea slammed the door in her face, but it was enough time for horror to soak Faye’s heart with its dread dark.
Inside, chained to the opposite wall, hung the unconscious, naked body of Gabriel Black.
Thirty-Eight
Faye didn’t remember being carried back to Finn’s quarters or laid out on his bed; all she saw in her feverish dreams was Gabriel’s body, striped with lines of blood, and bruising at his wrists where they were cuffed to the wall.
Yet in her dreams, Gabriel’s eyes met hers with a mixture of pain and desire as Glitonea knelt, naked, in front of him and took his engorged cock into her mouth, and his words, back in the shop, echoed in Faye’s confused memory: what life is this, here with these dusty old books, better a life lived and Faye, in her dream, tried to reach out for him, to release him from his bonds, but he turned his head away. No, no. I am hers.
Faye was dimly aware that light faerie hands raised her body up and trickled faerie wine down her throat; that they washed her and dressed her, but she had no awareness of time passing. She was lost in a dream, walking the corridors of the castle of Murias, searching for Aisha and Gabriel, calling their names. Yet every doorway in the corridor she opened, in her twilight consciousness, opened onto a cliff edge with a drop that yawned under her, or a wall of black water in which large, indistinct shapes moved – shadows within a darkness that made fear flick its tail in her belly.
She could feel consciousness tugging at her; in her dream, light suffused one end of the corridor, and she walked towards it.
Yet, just before she walked into the light, her perception changed, and she saw the castle for a moment as if it was made of glass. She could see everything; the levels indexed like cards in a box, the contents of each room; the secrets of the castle laid bare. And in that moment, she saw the dungeon that she was searching for, closer than she’d expected.
She awoke with Aisha’s name on her lips, and found Finn sitting next to her on the bed. Seeing her open her eyes, he placed his warm hand on her brow.
‘You’re cooling down. That’s good.’ He propped her up on pillows and lifted a cup to her lips. ‘Here. Drink this.’
Expecting it to be the faerie wine, Faye turned her head away, but Finn tipped it up to her lips, making her drink. ‘It’s just water. Drink it.’
She drank, and felt herself slowly return to her body.
‘It is the human part of you that is suffering,’ he breathed, kissing her cheek softly. ‘You have been here too long, enjoying our pleasures, sidhe-leth. Perhaps it is time for you to return home for a time. To recover fully.’
Faye closed her eyes and sipped at the water again. There was nothing more she wanted than to return to the ordinary world, but she’d awoken with the knowledge of where Aisha was. She couldn’t return to the ordinary world and leave her here. Or Gabriel.
‘I… I’ll be all right. I want to stay,’ she lied, although every fibre of her being cried out for home. She reached for him and kissed him, though her stomach lurched when she did so. ‘I would miss you too much.’
Finn returned her kiss, and she felt him respond to her immediately; Finn’s ardour knew no end, like the waves on the ocean that rolled continually. She found it galling that he should think nothing of trying to make love to her when she was so obviously unwell, and pulled away from his touch. He looked annoyed and the sullen snarl she remembered returned to his full-lipped mouth.
‘Clearly not enough,’ he remarked pointedly.
‘Let me recover, my love.’ Faye laid back against the pillows and took a deep breath. She didn’t know if she had it in her to try
and get to Aisha one more time, but she had to try; both she and Gabriel were in terrible danger.
‘Fine.’ Finn stood up and paced the room. ‘What would you have me do while I wait for your recovery?’ He was like a child; spoilt and sulky. Faye smiled so that her face wouldn’t show her disdain for his immaturity. She thought fast. There was one way, perhaps, to ensure that Murias could be distracted enough for her to try to get to Aisha and Gabriel.
‘Perhaps a ball would cheer me up, my love?’ she suggested, injecting all the warmth she could into her voice. ‘In a few hours I should have recovered sufficiently to dance.’
Faye doubted that she’d feel up to dancing later, but if Finn was deep into the crowd and she sat out for a dance or two, then perhaps she could sneak away to find Aisha and Gabriel. She’d seen it, the place where Aisha was kept; if her vision had been correct, then Aisha was being held in a room not that far from Glitonea’s quarters. She’d been closer than she knew when Glitonea had found her; if she hadn’t been so sick, perhaps she would have found Aisha.
What is this sickness? A voice in her mind needled at her. Is it the effect of Murias, or was Glitonea right? Am I pregnant? But Faye refused to believe it. She’d been feverish; pregnancy didn’t give you a fever. Murias made her like this if she stayed too long; she could be here for longer than ordinary humans, being half-fae, but it still took a toll on her. Glitonea was wrong. She was playing you for some reason, she told herself, though she couldn’t think of a reason why Glitonea would lie. Faeries lie. Perhaps there was no reason; it was just their nature.
Finn obviously didn’t pick up on her duplicity; perhaps it was his pleasure in the idea of a ball that distracted him, but in any event, Faye was grateful when he smiled, and the spoilt child disappeared.
‘A ball. Yes! An excellent idea,’ Finn cried, and clapped his hands. Five faerie servants appeared, and he fired instructions at them. A fine gown and jewels for my lady. My grandest attire. Food, drink, music! You know what to do, he ordered as Faye felt herself slipping under the cover of sleep again. She felt him come to the bed again, when they had gone, and caress her breast. Yet, to Faye’s surprise, he pulled back the bedcovers and picked her up gently, carrying her to the bathroom where the palatial sunken bath was already full of rose and neroli-scented water; rose petals floated on the surface of the water. Even more gently, Finn lowered her into the warm water, making sure she was comfortable, took up a sea sponge and began washing her with slow, hypnotic movements.
Faye made herself lie back against Finn’s strong arm. She couldn’t show any sign of her duplicity.
‘We must make you presentable for the ball,’ Finn murmured as he wrung the sponge over Faye’s head, soaking her auburn hair and rendering it wetly black. Faye gasped in surprise, but Finn merely smiled and repeated the soaking. ‘I like you drenched.’ He smiled again, his ocean-blue eyes dancing in amusement.
Finn’s warm, wide hand circled the sponge over Faye’s breasts and shoulders, caressing them gently; she fought the responsive warmth in her abdomen at his touch. As if knowing her arousal, he continued his slow circling. Finn wore the soft blue trousers and robe he often did, and, taking his arm away from her for a moment, he pulled off the robe so that he was bare-chested.
The oil-scented water glimmered in the light of hundreds of white candles that unseen hands had lit before Finn carried her into the room.
‘Now, where was I?’ He smiled knowingly as he took a bottle from the side of the bath and poured something from inside it into his wide, cupped hand. Faye smelt rose with an underlying tang of bitterness as Finn stroked the oil over her shoulders and breasts. ‘Close your eyes,’ he ordered, and when she did, Faye felt Finn’s oiled fingers massaging gentle circles on her cheeks, temples and forehead. Finn’s fingers made their way onto her scalp, massaging the oil into her hair and her head.
‘Does that feel good?’ His voice caressed her as gently as his hands. She nodded, fighting to retain her composure. Lyr’s crystal was hidden in one of her slippers under Finn’s expansive bed, and without it, she could feel herself slipping back under Finn’s spell. No, No! she closed her eyes and steeled her will against his—
‘More?’ his tone was gently teasing, but she opened her eyes and pulled away from his touch.
‘I’m a little tired,’ she said, not meeting his eyes. ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t tire me further ahead of the ball.’
Finn sat back on his heels and regarded her coolly for a moment, but then got up from his knees.
‘As you wish, mistress. I forget you are half human. Even a sidhe-leth cannot keep up with the desires of a faerie king.’ He smiled somewhat smugly, obviously proud of his powers of endurance. ‘I forget myself.’
Faye kept the smile fixed on her face until he’d left, when her expression became watchful. She knew what she had to do, but she was afraid.
Thirty-Nine
Faye fought the giddiness that summoned an acid sourness in her mouth as Finn twirled her around and around the ballroom.
As before, the dress that had been laid out for her by the unseen faerie hands fitted her perfectly, but was even more revealing than it had been at the last dance. This gown was split into two sides; one side black and one side a coral pink, with gold stitching that held them together, breast to thigh. The pink half of the dress had a long, flowing skirt and a loose, flowing top part that draped sensuously over the top of Faye’s arm.
The black side of the dress wasn’t even really a dress, by any description, but a series of black bands of silk no more than a few inches thick that wrapped themselves around the apex of her right breast, waist and hip, and only vaguely covered the triangle between her legs. One black shoulder strap held the entire right side up. For jewels, Finn had presented her with a choker and tiara of black opals, with matching earrings that were so long, they trailed on her shoulders. Faye was wary of any jewels given from the faerie king, because of the way he’d used an opal ring in the past as a tool to summon her. But Finn had insisted that she wear these. When he wasn’t looking, she’d reached for Lyr’s crystal in the slipper hidden under the bed and torn a hole in the narrow doubled-over band of pink silk that made up the waistband of one side of the dress, easing the crystal inside it.
The nausea hadn’t left Faye; in fact, it had grown worse, but she was holding on to her composure as best she could until she could reasonably insist that she sat down for a while and wait for Finn to disappear into the throng. Faye thought that she knew where she would need to go and planned out her route in her mind as she danced with Finn. It might be tight, but she’d have to try.
The music was as wild as it had been before; onstage at the centre of the dance that revolved around them, three gnome-like faerie fiddlers played a fast reel along with two female ogre drummers and a delicate, reptilian flute player whose webbed blue fingers were almost a blur. The crowd were as uproarious and extravagant as she remembered, too; bare-breasted nixies danced with fish-headed faeries, winged creatures twirled beautiful and courtly members of the royal house – Faye guessed they were minor royals – and radiant, ephemeral figures that were almost made of pure water or light, dipped and wove through the crowd.
Faye didn’t know whether it was the enchantment she was under by being with Finn or whether the floor of the ballroom had changed its state, but the bones and bodies she remembered from before were gone, and she and the rest of the dancers pounded their rhythm on what looked to be a glass-topped water tank. She’d only glimpsed flashes of it as she and Finn danced, but it looked as though the whole of the ballroom now sat on top of the sea, somehow, and shapes and shadows moved under them: sea serpents, strange gilled creatures, mermaids, the black shadow of a whale. Faye craned her head to try and see it better, but it was no use; all she saw was the odd intriguing flash of something, and then the legs and feet above.
‘Faye Morgan. How well you look this evening. You have such a glow about you.’
Glitonea’s voice snappe
d her back to attention. The faerie queen was dancing next to her and Finn; Finn nodded graciously to his sister. The comment was meant to imply Faye was pregnant, of course, but Faye didn’t think that had entered Finn’s mind… and anyway, Glitonea was wrong about that. Is she wrong? The voice in Faye’s mind questioned again as her gorge rose and she fought the impulse to be sick. She ignored it.
‘I’m quite well, thank you,’ she lied, avoiding Glitonea’s gaze.
‘Indeed.’ The faerie queen raised an eyebrow in disbelief. ‘I believe you know my dance partner,’ she added and smiled radiantly at the human man with her, whose eyes never left her face. Faye hadn’t seen him until now – Glitonea’s body had concealed him – but now her eyes widened as she recognised Gabriel’s dark eyes and pale skin.
‘Gabriel!’ she cried, and reached out for him, but Glitonea laughed and danced him away before Faye could touch him. Never stoutly built, Gabriel was already gaunt, and the clothes he’d been given hung off his frame. Faye remembered the first time they’d met: remembered the smart dinner jacket and white shirt he’d worn underneath at the shop, slightly foppish, with a kind of magical beauty about him. He would certainly die here if she didn’t help him.
‘Oh dear. I do feel a little bit weak, actually.’ Faye staged a stumble in Finn’s arms and affected a faint kind of look. The faerie king frowned, irritated: she’d learnt that he’d little patience for weakness. ‘I think I need to sit out for a little while.’
Finn laughed and picked her up, twirling her around to the frantic beat of the music.
‘Nobody stops the dance, sidhe-leth,’ he taunted.
‘Finn! I want to get out. Now!’ she cried helplessly, but he wouldn’t let her go and danced her around, faster and faster.
‘This was your request, Faye. A ball in your honour,’ he shouted above the din. ‘You are the king’s most lovely consort. The fae thrive on your beauty and our desire.’
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