by Ciara Graves
“You think it’s serious?”
“I don’t know but doesn’t matter.”
I glanced over the report again. There was another protest in Charus over Jeric’s proposed changes to the goblin laws. It had started as a simple protest, and a fight had broken out. Seven people were seriously wounded, one was dead, and there was a report a half-hour later about the group terrorizing a local goblin community. It wasn’t so much the fight breaking out that had me worried. The fae who reported in said several of the fae there were talking about removing Jeric from the throne, that Mariana would be better suited in his place. They could’ve just been talking, but one of the names listed was a familiar one. Luka.
“I want Luka brought in,” I told Henson.
“For what?”
“I don’t care for what, I want him off the streets, and I wanted it yesterday. If there is going to be another attempt on Jeric’s life, Luka’s can damned well bet he’ll be involved.”
“I’ll make sure it’s done.”
“And up the patrols,” I ordered. “I don’t want a single fae stepping foot on royal grounds without knowing. If there’s anyone here who’s not supposed to be, you find me immediately.” I folded the report and placed it in my pocket. Maybe if Jeric saw this, he’d understand why I kept urging caution moving forward. “Was there anything else?”
“No, nothing.” Henson took a second too long to reply.
“Henson just tell me. My night’s already ruined.”
“I was going to wait until I knew for certain, but I believe Mariana has figured out what’s going on. If you catch my meaning,” he whispered.
We were alone in the hall, but I understood his desire to stay quiet. Mariana’s spies were everywhere. Maids, guards, even goblins who she seemed to hate so much.
“And?”
“Iona, it’s no secret how much she dislikes you. I just want to give you a head’s up, in case, well, in case someone tries to kill you.”
“Sucks to be them,” I said, trying to lighten the mood, but Henson grabbed my arm. He never did that unless the situation was serious. I capitulated and asked, “Did you hear her actually say that she was going to have me killed?”
“No, but there was a strange fae in her chambers today. I didn’t recognize his face, but he had the same markings as you do.” He motioned to the skulls on my left arm. “I followed him when he left her chambers, but he just disappeared. I’m sorry.”
Great. Not only did I have to worry about someone trying to kill Jeric, but they’d also be coming for me now, too. “Thanks, Henson.”
“Watch your back.”
“I will. You do the same. Everyone knows you’re my closest friend.”
“Only friend,” he said with a grimace. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I waited until he turned the corner, then continued toward the main staircase. The mansion was quiet at this time of night. I nodded to the guards stationed throughout, each of them returning the gesture. Jeric usually worked fairly late in his study. The other guard could escort him to his room, but lately, I’d been doing it, if only for my sanity’s sake. His study was in the east wing of the house. I turned the corner, and my feet froze.
There should have been a guard just outside the door. He was absent. The study was at the very end of the hall. There were only windows, and none of them were open, but the door was. Slowly, I pressed my finger to the com.
“Henson, you copy?”
Static crackled back at me.
“Henson? Shit.” I drew my daggers, fire enveloping the blades the moment they were clear of the sheaths.
I sniffed the air, but there were no unfamiliar scents on the air. Avoiding the squeaky spots in the floorboards, I crept down the long hall, poised and ready to attack. The door to Jeric’s study was cracked open. Using one dagger, I nudged it, and it swung inward.
“Jeric?”
Heart pounding, I expected to find his body on the floor. His. Or the guard’s. Nothing appeared out of place. There were no broken windows, no destroyed furniture. There were no signs of a struggle at all. The lamp on the desk was on, and there was a half-empty glass of bourbon beside a stack of papers. Any other guard might’ve thought Jeric simply went to bed early, but he was meticulous. He never left his lamp on. Hell, he never let booze go to waste either.
“Jeric?” I walked the perimeter of the study. There were no closets or hidden passages out of here. “Damn it.” I sheathed one dagger and put my finger to the com in my ear. “Anyone have eyes on King Jeric?”
The static turned into a high-pitched shriek.
I flinched, yanking the com out of my ear. I had a half-second to realize something was wrong when the door to the study slammed shut. One hand grabbed me by the nape, and then there was a sharp stab at the side of my neck.
I gasped, swinging around to attack, but everything was blurry.
I called out, my words sluggish. Exhaustion slammed into me. I hit the floor hard, and my dagger fell away.
A pair of booted feet filled my vision, and then there was nothing.
I came to, face-down, on the rug. Head throbbing, I pushed up to my elbows and knees. My stomach roiled, but I managed not to vomit. What the hell happened? Dizzy, I waited for a second to get my bearings, then opened my eyes wide.
Jeric’s study. I was still here. I was still alive. The attacker. I spun around too fast and ended up back on the floor. Why was it so dark? The lamp had been on, right? A sharp pain shot down my neck to my spine. Some bastard had drugged me. It felt like cotton filled my ears muffling all sounds. I scrambled to get to my feet.
“Jeric?” I said, but it came out garbled. I coughed and tried again. There was no reply. I reached for my com, but it wasn’t with me anymore. “Damn it.”
In my right hand was one of my daggers. I didn’t bother to look at it too closely. Instead, I fumbled for the switch on the wall by the door. I hit it with my hand and the antique bronze chandelier popped on, flooding the room with light. I glanced around slowly, expecting to be attacked again. I spotted the pair of boots sticking out from behind the desk.
“No,” I breathed as my heart sank. “No, Jeric? Jeric!”
I sprinted across the study, biting back a yell at what I found. Jeric, on his back, eyes frozen, open wide. His throat had been slit. I checked for a pulse even as the rational part of my mind said it was too late. He hadn’t been in here earlier. I would’ve seen him.
“Jeric,” I whispered as I clutched at his shirt, willing him to breathe. To be alive.
Nothing made sense. After another glance over his body as furious tears burned my eyes, I found a dagger protruding from his chest. A dagger with a unique hilt etched in onyx stones and rubies.
A dagger that matched the one in my other hand.
“Jeric?” Mariana called from down the hall. “Brother, I know it’s late, but I really need to talk to you. Jeric?”
Too numb, I didn’t bother to move or say anything.
Mariana walked into the study. I heard her rush around the desk, and then she was screaming. I continued to keep my hand pressed to Jeric’s chest, willing him to take a breath, his heart to beat. Neither happened.
I tuned out Mariana’s hysterics as cold fury overrode my grief. Jeric was dead. He was dead, and it was my fault. I should’ve seen this coming. I should’ve stopped the bastard who drugged me—
“Arrest her!” Mariana screamed, pointing at me.
I frowned at Henson and three other guards behind her. “What?”
“You killed Jeric,” she shouted as tears streamed down her cheeks and she gasped for air. “I knew this would happen. I knew you’d be the death of him. You murdered our king!”
“Why would I kill him?” I snapped, refusing to stand.
“Look at the dagger in your hand, you half-blood bitch.”
I bristled at Mariana’s words, but then I saw confusion quickly replaced by panic and fear in Henson’s eyes. I followed his gaze to the othe
r dagger in my hand. It was drenched in blood. My other dagger jutted out of Jeric’s chest. The dagger dropped from my hand, and I leaped to my feet.
“I didn’t kill him,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Prove it,” Mariana whispered harshly. “You dug your claws into him. You got close to him on purpose. You made him fall for you so you could kill him. I will not let you get away with this. Arrest her!”
Henson made no move to do so, but the other guards were Mariana’s. They shoved Henson aside and charged me.
I backed away from Jeric’s body.
They carefully stepped around him. Two more blocked the study door.
Mariana continued to cry, but the second the guards were all focused on me, she smiled like the evil fae she was. “Seize her! King killer!”
“You really want to do this?” I asked the guards.
They glanced to my bare forearms, then each other. None of them made a move to grab me.
“I did not kill King Jeric,” I told them. “Someone else was here and drugged me.”
Mariana stomped her foot, like she was a child throwing a tantrum, not like a sister upset over the death of her brother. “If you do not arrest her, I’ll have you all executed for conspiring to commit murder. And you,” she said, aiming the last at me, “I’ll see you tortured and made an example of before you meet your end.”
The guards threw themselves at me, but I dodged to the right. They stumbled over each other.
I kicked one in the side. He fell into his partner, and they tumbled onto Jeric’s desk. My sorrow at Jeric’s death turned into red-hot rage at Mariana’s accusations. More guards were summoned by her screaming.
Beside her, Henson looked torn.
I shook my head. He had to save himself.
Regret in his eyes, he came at me, too.
I grabbed a chair. Hoping I didn’t hurt him too badly, smashed it over his head. He hit the floor. Two more rushed me, coming in from the door as the first two climbed back to their feet.
I blocked punches and kicked one in the gut, then headbutted another one. I might’ve been smaller than them, but I was the only one with goblin blood. My added strength gave me a slight advantage. Guards crowded the hall and with them were several advisors. Shit. I wasn’t getting out of here that way—
A fist caught me in the side of the head, and another cracked my jaw. I staggered back and took a kick to the gut.
Air knocked from my lungs, I gasped and fell into the back wall of windows. My hand struck glass, and I grimaced, realizing what I was going to have to do.
The tattoo on my right arm burst to life as fire came to my palm. I smashed it into the window with a yell. Glass shattered, and I climbed out onto the narrow ledge.
“Don’t let her escape! Get her!”
If only those advisors had ever learned to trust me, I might’ve had a chance to explain. Now, I would be dubbed a traitor. A murderer. As I clung to the edge of the ledge over my head and my boots barely fit on the one at my feet, I looked once more at Jeric’s body. I’d never hear him laugh again or have him kiss me. All this time, I let myself believe we’d get a happy ending.
Two guards reached out the window.
I shimmied along the ledge then flipped onto the roof.
Mariana’s screams followed me as I clambered over the shingles, running around chimneys and carefully sliding down the steep peaks. My truck was parked in the main garage, but there were vehicles out on the grounds. I was not about to be locked away in a cell to rot. Mariana had hired an assassin, but it hadn’t been to kill me, as Henson thought.
I wiped furiously at my face, not even realizing how many tears had seeped out.
Gunshots shattered the shingles around me.
“Iona!” Mariana’s head guard Eric yelled. “Stop! You won’t get away with this.”
I picked up the pace and miss-stepped, sending me sliding down the roof on my back. When my boots hit the gutter, I flipped over and barely caught another ledge on the way down. I slammed face-first into the stone wall of the mansion. Blood dripped from my nose as my claws dug into the stone. There was nowhere for my feet to take hold.
More shots struck nearby. I lost my grip. With a yelp, I plummeted into the hedges on the ground.
I rolled out of the bushes. The grass was wet with dew, and the stars overhead were bright. I hit my head when I landed. A tiny voice in the back of my mind asked what was the point in running. With Jeric dead, I had nothing to come back to.
I gritted my teeth and flipped to my feet.
I’d avenge Jeric’s death. That was my purpose now. One way or another, I’d show them all that Mariana was behind his death. But I had to be alive to do it. Shots hit the ground a few feet behind me. Another blast struck my shoulder. I sucked in a sharp breath at the pain, put my head down, and sprinted for the gravel lot. Staff black trucks lined the fence. I yanked the door open on one, slid behind the wheel, and grabbed for the keys I knew were in the visor.
The engine roared to life. I threw it in reverse. As the alarms sounded, I took off, engine howling into the night.
Gravel flew as I floored it, heading for the main gate in the near distance. They hadn’t shut it yet, idiots.
As I aimed for it, the guards at the two watch posts shouted, waving their arms in the air to close it. I was only twenty yards away when the back window shattered.
I ducked as bullets peppered the inside of the cab. One nicked my right arm.
I jerked the wheel, swerving to throw off their aim.
As I spun the wheel again, pressing the accelerator to the floorboards, the driver’s window cracked, and something slammed into my shoulder. It wasn’t a bullet, but there was no time to see what it was.
The gate had started to close.
Digging my claws into the leather around the wheel, I urged the truck to go faster. When I reached it, the heavy iron gate took off the passenger side mirror and scraped along the truck’s body, but I was out.
New problem: I had no home outside of my quarters.
No safe house I could hole up in the other guards wouldn’t know about. The headlights bounced as I sped down the road away from my former home. I just had to get away and out of Charus. That was my best chance at survival.
The truck had a full tank of gas. I’d stay off the main roads and avoid any major towns. If I could make it to the light fae, I’d stand a chance of pleading my case. They were usually a bit more understanding. I hoped that would be the case.
My left arm tingled, where I’d been struck. I pressed my hand to my bare arm. There was a tiny drop of blood on my hand when I pulled it away.
“What are you?” I muttered, trying to look without driving off the road.
The tingling grew worse, reaching my fingers. When it crept up my shoulder toward my neck, panic set in. I took a sharp left, then another right, winding through the wilderness of Montana.
Giving my head a hard shake, I told myself the tingling was nothing. A shard of glass, that’s what hit me. Just a shard of glass.
The further away I drove, the more my thoughts turned to Jeric.
A single tear slipped down my cheek and dripped down my chin.
“I’ll find out who killed you,” I assured him, wondering if he could hear me. “I won’t let them tear your kingdom apart.”
Once I was safe, I’d let myself fall to pieces. Right now, I had to keep going and make it somewhere safe.
I made another left onto a dirt road. The tingling inched up my neck, then across to my other shoulder.
The turns became sharp, but there was no time to slow down. I would not let Mariana win. I couldn’t.
Not like this.
Chapter 4
Aiden
The truck bounced along the dirt road which wound through the wilderness and toward the small chunk of property where my cabin nestled among the trees. A small pond resided behind it, fed by a natural spring. I spent many mornings fishing as the sun came up over the horiz
on. The herb garden was to the right of the one-story, two-room structure. It needed to be weeded and picked. Beyond the wooden post fence was a small greenhouse I’d constructed several years back.
I saw it all clearly inside my mind. My little slice of home. After talking with Teresa again, right before I left Timber Falls, that sudden longing to find the missing piece to my life had grown. It was my own fault. She’d finally plucked up the courage to say something to Henry. She’d barely gotten the words out when he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
As happy as I was for my friend, the realization that I was indeed as lonely as Teresa assumed only sunk in deeper.
“You’re happy, remember?” I spoke into the silence of the cab. “You like being a healer. You don’t mind being alone. You never have before.”
I rolled my eyes at my reflection in the rearview mirror. I failed in my lie to Teresa. I wasn’t much better at lying to myself.
A few minutes from the cabin, I glanced down to flip on the radio. Not much reception out here, but even static was better than the thoughts rattling around inside my skull.
A flash of red caught my eye.
I looked up then, slammed on the brake. The truck swerved as I jerked the wheel to the left and came to a sharp stop.
Sucking in a deep breath, I stared through the windshield at the red taillights of another pickup. This one had slammed into a tree. The headlights were busted, and there was no light coming from inside the cab.
“No one ever comes out here,” I muttered to myself as I quickly climbed out. Was it someone trying to get to me? It was rare people sought me out, but it did happen. “Hello?”
There was no reply from the other truck. I reached over to the glove box, grabbed the heavy metal flashlight, and hurried over.
Hoping I wouldn’t have to place a call to the fae relocation team, I hesitated, then shone the light into the front of the truck.
The woman’s face was smeared with blood, but she was certainly not a human. A sharply pointed ear that peeked out of her hair told me she was fae and part goblin. As I stepped closer, my healer instincts kicking in, I spotted her hands hanging limply in her lap. Her nails were small, black claws. She was dressed in all black, too, but there was blood on both her arms as well as on the steering wheel. I reached in and carefully searched her neck for a pulse. The thump was steady beneath my fingers. Setting the light on the smashed-in hood of the truck, I opened the door. She slumped to the side, a grunt coming from her.