by A. K. Koonce
She blinks, then smiles at me like she didn’t just snarl like some rabid wolf. I take that back, even Jubilee would take offense to that.
“Should we venture to the back of the garden for blue flowers for your wedding?” With a loud clap of her hands, she widens her eyes with an obviously false glee.
Words. There are no words. I mean, I have none. Aisha has lost a marble or two. Or three . . . or four.
“Or,” She ventures, her smile falling, “I can call the entire thing off for you, and I can marry King Iri.”
“Let’s pick the damn flowers,” I say, making a show of looking at the brush surrounding me. Roses, stems of lavender, other flowers that I can’t name because I never paid enough attention to botany except to skim books for little yellow flowers here recently.
“What if I pick out other colors than blue?” I ask. Why waste my time picking flowers for a wedding that already happened? Why not pick a new bouquet to place in a vase in my bedroom instead?
“The wedding planners strictly want blue. You’re a water fae, remember?”
No, Aisha. I forgot that I was born with magical abilities and have been defined by Goddess Nature. Totally slipped my mind.
I take two steps away, brushing past thorns, twigs, and other reaching bits of plants. Today they nearly hit my skin. Opting for a plain gown, but one in style in my very own court, I finally felt like the queen of the Northern Kingdom. Because—holy shit—I fucking am.
“I wouldn’t wander too far that way,” Aisha says, her smile twitching on one corner. “I’ve been pulling out old bushes so I can put in new herbal ones. No blue flowers there, sorry.” Her shoulders tilt in a sloppy shrug.
I hum, picking up a few random blue buds near me, giving her a slow nod. There is plenty of green on that side of the garden, I can see a blue bloom from here. She turns, snapping off her own long-stemmed cobalt bloom dotted with white glittering specks.
I take one step and then another, reaching out for the navy-blue flower she hadn’t wanted me to touch. My attention drifts over her work space. There really aren’t a whole lot of uprooted plants. Maybe only one, actually.
She should weed a bit more out here if she’s so set on new herbs.
What was back here were a lot more colorful flowers, more fragrant flowers that made the air smell sweet instead of musty. She didn’t want me to get these nice flowers for my wedding, that little whore.
I storm over to the little corner where the walls of the castle cast shadows over the plants.
Reaching to snatch up another bloom, my hand stalls between me and the plant. A bundle of flowers, neon bright, growing close to the ground, and unmistakably poisonous, sit nestled beside a bed of roses.
It’s—it’s Bloodroot. A lot of it. A fucking obscene overgrowth of tiny yellow flowers.
She had acted like she had never seen it before when I brought it to her the first time. Clearly, she would have known what type of flower it was, seeing as it is here . . . in the royal garden, where she works daily.
It’s her.
She’s the one who’s poisoning the kingdom. And I’ve been the idiot who has been asking her for help this entire time.
Well, fuck me in the asshole.
“Syren,” Aisha calls, her voice devoid of emotion.
I right myself, plastering a hard smile on my face, and hold up the blue flower “You were trying to hide the good flowers from me!” I laugh unevenly, trying my hardest not to let my sudden nerves make me shake.
Bear is still zeroed in on all the business of his meeting. I can almost hear the monotone ramblings of his guest. Bear has to know.
Bear. Bear, please. We need to talk, and we need to talk now.
I try shouting the words in my head as I walk back to where Aisha had wanted me to stay. She doesn’t have to know that I know. It’s better if she thinks I just plucked this bloom and wandered back.
Ignoring the pricking thorns against my palms, I hold up the small bouquet I had gathered. “Here, this should be plenty, right?”
She lifts a pale eyebrow. “Don’t you think the wedding planners would want more options than the six flowers you’ve crushed in your sweaty hand?”
“But you see,” I drawl, setting down the bouquet gently, then patting it for good measure. “I am a princess, and there are people who can do this for me. I tire, and I think I’ll go take a nap.”
Aisha watches me walk away. I can feel her eyes burning into my back. But she doesn’t say anything, and I don’t hear her make any move to follow.
Bear. I try again.
Nothing.
I step inside the dark corridor, wishing I hadn’t let Bear dismiss the guards just yet. The short, dimly lit hallway shifts, the one after it shifting, too, with how much of a frenzy my nerves are in right now. I take a deep breath, and the walls still. I take two steps forward, and they shift before I can continue further.
I’ll never make it to him if they keep moving like this. Turning back to find a better route, I stumble in my rushed steps. Pressure builds in my chest as my head buzzes with too many thoughts.
Frayed blond hair drifts in the wind in front of me, and a vicious glare like unbreakable diamonds zeros in on me. An unwanted gasp stutters through me.
Aisha reaches out, taking a handful of my gown and pulls me close. I push away, and when that doesn’t work, I swing. Hard. With a wild crack, my knuckles meet her perfect button nose. Metallic silver blood drips over her mouth and dots the neck of her dress.
“You cunt!”
Her hands free me as they cradle her broken nose. I fall backward, scrambling to stand in this billowing dress. My knees meet the cold stone as I stumble. The hard press of Aisha’s body sends my sprawling to the cold floor entirely.
The brick tastes like lies and death.
Her screams echo down the vacant hall. “You knew I loved him. You knew my father wanted me on this throne. You knew. You knew. You knew!”
Wet material covers my mouth, strangling my nose with the harsh scent of chemicals. My eyes grow heavy, my muscles weak.
Don’t panic, Syren. Don't panic, or you won't be able to fight back. I’d heard that message so many times before from the guards at practice. How important it is to work against your body's natural defenses.
But now, when I need it most, my body is betraying me. My heart beating frantically like a wild animal determined to break out of its cage. My hands claw with adrenaline, but it’s all slowed by sudden fatigue.
Aisha’s breath is hot in my ear, leaving me feeling damp in her hatred. “You are too much of a stupid water fae bitch to think of me as a threat.”
Iri . . . My mind whispers to my mate. Her words echo in my head, haunting me.
Yes, my queen? Bear calls back to me.
Just as everything fades to black.
Twenty
Love and Danger
Bear
My mind keeps reeling back to Syren’s call. The haunting whisper of her voice, the strange spike in her emotion that pulled me from my work. She’s asleep now. Her mind’s quiet, even though I can still feel our connection and the steady beat of her heart.
Guards stationed by her door look at me with confusion, and one even cracks open her bedroom door. “Sir, she isn’t here. She left this morning to join Aisha in the gardens.”
I nod and shoot Miranda a look over my shoulder. He shrugs and scuffs his boot against the ground. “Maybe she escorted herself to the library and fell asleep with one of those black magic books. She was out late last night, remember?” Reassuringly, he squeezes my shoulder, and gives the guards a small salute.
My lips twitch involuntarily at the thought of last night. It’s a comforting feeling, knowing she’s living because I can sense her life now bound to mine.
“You know I never thought I would see the day that my dear friend Bear would actually be in love. I swore you’d be the bachelor of the Northern Kingdom till the day you died, even if you got married. I’m glad your dad di
dn’t completely ruin you.” His goofy grin helps to ease the unnerving sense of dread still settled in my stomach.
I shouldn’t have called the guards off. Now I haven't a clue where she even is, and if I don’t know where she is, I can’t protect her.
“Let’s venture out to the gardens, and see if Aisha is still out working. Maybe she knows where Syren has run off to.” I have no doubt she ran somewhere—probably ran off to answer the call of whatever piqued her interest. Syren is not easily persuaded to stay put, not when an experience calls out to her. Not when knowledge calls out to her. Some days, I want to be more like her. And some days, I fully believe she’s out of her mind.
“She’s too much of a princess to sleep in the gardens.” Miranda starts, then pauses, holding a hand to his chin and tapping his cheek with one finger. “Or maybe she sleeps more comfortably out there. Perhaps she really did enjoy that goddess-awful island.” He takes two steps forward, his hands resting on the large doors leading outside. “You should get her a potted plant for her room.”
Gifts. Yes, I would, in time, buy her many gifts. Anything she wanted. Though I suspect we will be taking more trips than she will be accepting my gifts. She hadn’t hardly liked anything I’d given her before, though that may have to do more with her stubborn nature then the actual present.
“Well, when we find her, if she wants a plant, she can have a damn plant.” My patience is growing thin, I’ll admit.
Where is she? Why did she say my name like that last time?
Pushing through the doors, the wind greets us with a harsh bitterness that forces my magic to ignite, keeping my skin warm. Leaves rustle and vivid colors swirl in the breeze as the hundreds of flowers bend against it.
Hastily, I jog through the small trails of the garden, noting the bouquet of blue flowers left sitting on the edge of a path. She isn’t here. She isn’t here. She isn’t here.
“Off to the library we go. We should put a bet on it. I’m willing to bet ten talkens that she’s asleep with a book.” Miranda holds the door open for me, leaning away from the sparks burning holes in the shoulders of my jacket as my wings threaten to emerge.
Time has taught me to contain the power, not let my emotions rule them. But even on my good days, there are times when my instincts take control.
Miranda continues in, heading for the library as the halls shift slowly. “No, I’d even bet more than that, I think. So you can stop the brooding, my brother, because . . .” His steps slow. “Everything . . . is fine.” He stops completely staring at the carpet.
“What?” I say as I begin searching his line of sight.
“Is that blood?” Miranda points.
Bright and silver, three dots of blood stain the red carpet. Lots of blood was shed during the raid of the castle.
I heave a sigh, knowing it’s likely my fault. Who else has spilled blood on these castle grounds since my father’s death?
“I’ll send for someone to clean it up. There is still some staining from the incident. Come on, let’s just get to the library before I lose my ever-loving mind.”
“Or . . . OR we could go out and have some fun of our own? Like we used to? And it’s not like she would even be missing you because she’s sleeping. You said it yourself. She’s alive and well. If she wasn’t, you’d know for sure. Let her sleep.”
I would know if she was hurt. I would feel pain through our bond if she was in pain. All I can feel between us is her unconscious state. Am I being paranoid? Probably. Most likely. Maybe I should get out and do something with Miranda, just like old times.
My lips part to agree.
But I’m cut short.
A shrill blood-curdling scream cuts through the castle and slices right through me.
My wings burst through my jacket, singeing my shirt and lighting up the hallway in seconds. Miranda’s hand is already resting on his sword.
“Find her.” I grit out. My heart leaps before it falls as I feel her stir at the end of the bond.
Syren’s in danger.
Twenty-One
Never Never
Syren
Sending a boot into someone’s crotch has never felt so good. Though I never imagined I’d be sending that kick hard and fast into the freaking vagina of my now-husband’s ex-fiancé.
Aisha crumples in half, her hands cupping her lady bits as the satisfying scream leaves her lips. I came to, slowly. But I’m here now. And she wasted way too much fucking time.
The bite of restraints slice into my wrists, but the dumb bitch never bound my legs. She should have been faster.
“Why are you doing this, Aisha? Is King Iri really that important to you? You can have him. Be my guest.” I hiss through clenched teeth.
I feel a shudder through the bond, the entirety of Bear’s attention turned inward to me. I’m lying, clearly. Let’s calm down.
I really am quite the actress. There is no way in any realm that Aisha would have King Iri. She can’t have him. I already claimed him last night. Sev-er-al times.
Where are you? His voice is rough even in the echo of my mind.
I’m tied to a chair in Aisha’s room. I need you. Now!
I can feel his urgency even without his answer.
Aisha rights herself, snarling as she snatches up the bindings and holds down my leg to start again. “I took your offer to help find a cure. A cure is needed in the end. And they’d all love me even more if I found it. But overall, I’m finishing what my father started. I’m putting myself on the throne, and I’m getting rid of you.”
I wince as she spits the words in my face. She really does hate me. Her crystal blue eyes are tarnished with derision. But more importantly, she and whoever else created this poison, really have no plan to cure the people when it’s all said and done.
There’s no cure.
“I would have gotten you out of the way sooner, but it turns out that the handkerchief we stole from you wasn’t yours, was it? The spell I cast didn’t kill you, it killed someone else.”
What handkerchief? My hands grip the arms of the metal chair underneath me, my knuckles stretched and white. Oh, Goddess. Oh, Goddess no. Donovan. Donovan’s handkerchief.
It should have been me. It was supposed to be me.
“Why did you have Donovan’s handkerchief? Huh? Spending your extra time with another man? Your mother is just as conniving as you.”
I struggle against the thin metal wires tying me to the chair. “My mother? My mother was no one. Someone so insignificant my father barely recalls her name. What could you possibly know of my mother?”
Her haughty laugh makes a boiling, ringing sound inside my ears as she rears her ugly head back.
I’m coming, my queen.
“Goddess, you’re so stupid. Your mother was never a no one. Her name is Ellowin, and she’s the witch whose premonition demands a fire fae and a water fae be wed.” Aisha runs her fingers up my leg, flicking at a gem sewn into the gown. “She’s the one who whispered into the ears of our monarch leaders, the religious leaders, and gossiping bartenders that his curse could be lifted.” Her gaze travels from my head to my toes, devouring me with a look of disgust. “She wanted to make you a loved queen as badly as my father wanted to make me a queen.”
Is she lying?
Knots form inside my stomach. Unease leaves my skin flushed and hot. I stare back at her, glaring at her and her nasty words. She’s just trying to get a rise out of me. She’s lying. She’s a liar. She’s a manipulator.
“Maybe we have more in common than we thought.” I let a dirty sneer grow across my face, making her nasty grins look joyful in comparison.
She snorts, reaching into her pocket to pull out a handful of Bloodroot mixed with a heavy sprinkle of red particles. “Hardly. I got lucky. I found someone who wanted to use me as much I could use them. You . . . you have no luck. Or if you did, it just ran out.” Her full bottom lip sticks out in a pout.
Stall. All I need to do is stall. I take a slow breath, squee
zing my eyes shut. I can see the halls. I can feel Iri’s presence. He’s close.
“Turns out I have some luck. Sounds as if my long-lost mother is alive. Though she isn’t a witch. She’s a water fae.”
“She’s a water witch, Syren. Such a pity you won't get to meet her.” She lunches forward, forcing her fingers into my mouth, shoving the fistful of petals in. I gag on her fingertips as she pushes the flowers to the back of my throat.
“Swallow them, you husband-stealing whore!” Her teeth grind together as she speaks the grizzly growl of words.
Under my feet, a low tremble begins. One earth-rattling shake, then another, as I choke on the mouthful of poison. Aisha freezes as she smells the scent as soon as I do; burning embers, white hot rage, and falling stars.
Her hand drops from my mouth. Her body moving in a blur to the window. Vertigo plagues my fogging mind, the room a whirlwind of color, as I spit what I can into my lap. It lands in a wet heap of yellow.
Splinters of wood burst through the room. Embers and ash fly through the air as the door breaks open. I always thought that Iri looks like a fallen angel.
But not tonight.
Tonight, he looks like the lord of the damned, leader of the underworld. He looks like the repeated rumors and the whispered stories. King Iri looks like a cruel fae king. And he’s come to make certain that harm never comes to his mate.
Stone darkens where his flaming wings brush the walls, his hands containing a thousand sparks, his body glowing in an aura of fury. Darkened to black, his narrowed eyes scan the room, and he closes the space between us.
The flames clinging to his black feathers smolder. Fumes twirl up from along his body. His attention sweeps the room. The moment he sees me, he falls to his knees in front of my chair.
“Are you okay?” he asks hoarsely.
“I—yes. I’m okay.” I release a long breath.