Sea Fae Trilogy

by C. N. Crawford

  And this was the truth, because Richelle was an oracle, and she couldn’t lie. Not this. Disappointment spread through my body like warm blood diffusing in water.

  Salem had wanted this destiny for eons—to reign as a god again. He’d spoken of exile from cities, banished to a world with no meaning. But I didn’t think he had really been talking about Mag Mell. His true pain was exile from the heavens. He’d wandered here for eons, empty, and he’d been longing to return ever since.

  All he had to do was drive a blade into my heart. Not hard when I had only the faintest hint of my magic.

  My heartbeat was frantic now, and I looked around the room at the courtiers, dressed in their rough, severe clothes. I was in enemy territory here, a total outsider.

  And I sat on the lap of a man tasked with killing me to become a god.

  How much did I trust him? Should I reach for that shard of glass right now?

  I stole a glance at Salem. For the first time since we’d arrived here, he’d let the mask slip.

  This news had shocked him, and it showed on his beautiful face. In the next breath, his composure returned—that look of boredom and his easy smile. But I’d seen enough, and the sound of his heart beating might as well have been echoing off the walls.

  “Unfortunately, Lady Richelle,” he said, “I do not have a mate. You are powerful, aren’t you? There must be another way.”

  My racing heart slowed a little.

  Richelle let out a long sigh. “Killing your mate is how you break your curse. A powerful sacrifice. You know better than anyone that gods demand sacrifice, don’t you? And it’s no good if it’s not something you care about. You’re not a god anymore. So, you follow their rules like everyone else.”

  Silence filled the room, and I felt like I was drowning.

  “Pity I don’t have a mate, then.” His voice was ice. “But it’s no concern of mine, I suppose. I can make my fun elsewhere, if I must.” He gestured at the court with his wineglass, and a little of it spilled over the rim. “And you can return to this joyous court. How happy everyone looks.” He flashed a wicked smile, dark amusement dancing in his eyes.

  This was a bluff. He was testing her.

  Richelle adjusted her stark crown, then smoothed out her hair. “I will do what I need to do in order to protect my kingdom. It’s what a true ruler does. And if we must live without pleasure, so be it. At least we are living.”

  Salem’s smile grew sinister. “Ah, look at their beautiful, dour faces. Perhaps it’s time to change the name, though. The Court of Silks doesn’t fit anymore, does it? I’ll let the world know it should be called the Court of Tedium, ruled by the Lady of Drudgery.”

  Tension thickened the air.

  Richelle stared at him, disappointment twisting her features. She’d wanted him so badly that it was palpable.

  She turned, looking at her court, her shoulders slumping. “Yes, it is a pity. If you broke your curse, you could create a heaven on earth with me. You could rule as king and teach me the ways of pleasure. Like Mag Mell in the old days. With me as your queen, we would be unstoppable. But not without your penance.” Her voice tightened. “You must do your penance.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Lady Richelle. And here I was hoping we’d be getting to know each other much better.” His voice dripped with a seductive promise. “Well, I’ve had enough of the Court of Banality.”

  He lifted me and started to rise. A sense of frustration and tension rippled through the room.

  I stood, half hoping the subjects would rise up and force Richelle’s hand. I’d once done a walking tour of London, where they had explained why the Puritan rule hadn’t lasted for long. The tour guide had showed us where the maypole once stood—but the Puritans had taken it down. No theater, no gambling, no dancing, no fun… And that was how the monarchy was restored, because everyone agreed paying taxes to a king was better than sitting at home reading psalms.

  Richelle might have some superstition about refraining from sex and fun, but she was a crappy ruler.

  I took a few steps down the dais, wondering if we were still bluffing or actually giving up.

  I didn’t have to wonder long.

  Richelle stopped us, lifting her hands before me. “Wait!” she barked. “Give me another minute.” She looked agitated, pacing in front of the pool. She chewed her thumbnail, muttering under her breath.

  “Do you have something more to add?” Salem asked lazily.

  She pivoted, pacing the other way. “I’ll ask the higher powers once more. I’ll ask them if there’s another way.” Sweat shone on her forehead, and she turned back to the pool of water. “Just give me a minute.”

  As she raised her hands above her head, her magic slid over my skin, cold enough to make my teeth chatter.

  One by one, droplets of water lifted into the air from the pool. Then a small vortex spun from the pool, sparkling with gold in the torchlight. As it whirled higher, the droplets crystallized in the air. A vortex of glittering ice flecks rose above her.

  Richelle’s back arched, and the moans she started emitting sounded positively ecstatic.

  At last, she dropped her hands, and the frozen vortex fell back into the pool of water with an enormous splash that wet her clothes.

  She whirled to look at Salem, her cheeks pink, chest heaving. A grin spread over her face. “I have good news.”

  He lifted his wineglass, smirking. “I knew you’d find a way.”

  A lock of her hair stuck to her cheek, and she brushed it away. “Once you complete this task, I will lift your curse. And then we can talk about your swan, and our marriage vows.”

  Salem had slouched back into the dark throne like he owned the place. “Well? What is it?”

  She stepped forward. “While you’ve been away, the Court of Silks has been plagued for centuries by a monster known as the glashtin—the water bull. It’s not a natural animal, but rather one formed entirely of dark magic. Every year, we must sacrifice to this monster. We spill fae blood to appease it, and it grows stronger.” She stepped closer, heels clacking. “Every year, the thing demands more fae lives. If this is to be your kingdom, you must protect us, just like you seek to protect your whore.”

  He took a deep breath. “I need specifics, Lady Richelle. What do you want me to do? Kill it?”

  “Yes. The powers that be have decreed that you must kill the monster that plagues us, this revolting creature that stands in our way. Then you will be free from your curse.”

  A murmur went through the crowd, and I could see eyes shining again. They wanted rid of this monster, and then they wanted rid of their restrictive clothes.

  Salem was slumped in the throne, arms over the rests. Legs crossed, he stared at Richelle. One of his feet bounced languidly up and down. “You want me to kill a monster.”

  “Precisely.”

  “And where do I find the water bull?”

  “The glashtin lives in our ancient amphitheater. As long as we feed her sacrifices, she stays there. But if we fail, she breaks through the stone walls and starts devouring the good people of our court. You can free us from this menace.”

  She turned back to the hall, opening her arms wide.

  “We would be so grateful. We’ve already had to contend with failing crops, dwindling supplies of food. And you, Salem, our king—how grateful everyone would be if you would slay the monster who torments us. When you become king, when you kill our monster, you could make the land thrive again with your power. And once you are free to be king, I will heal the whore.” She turned to smile at me. “The fates have decreed she can help you kill the monster.”

  Salem slouched in the throne. “Her? What can she do?”

  “I gave her some of her magic back,” said Richelle. “It is quite powerful, even though I haven’t yet fully restored it. She is resourceful, I think. She will find a way to help you.”

  “But what exactly do you want her to do against a monster?” asked Salem again.

  Ri
chelle shrugged. “It seems fate has declared that she is involved in the removal of your curse. She must be there, and you must complete your penance by killing our monster.”

  The hair rose on the back of my neck. Richelle knew more than she was letting on.

  “I suppose I should take you at your word.” Salem flashed an indulgent smile.

  Richelle’s eyebrows shot up. “You know I cannot lie, Salem. I speak the truth.”

  “Tell me, out of curiosity,” said Salem, “who are these higher forces you consult with?”

  Richelle’s eyes gleamed. “I will tell you everything on our wedding night.”

  “I can think of better things for us to do on our wedding night,” said Salem.

  Gods, with the love potion wearing off, it was hard not to visibly gag. Please tell me all this nauseating faux flirting would actually get us the cure we needed.

  Richelle shrugged. “I’ve told you your penance, and now it’s up to you if you want to accept.” Her expression grew fierce. “Kill the monster, Salem. That is your penance. It’s only fair. You must pay the price for what you did to your one true love. She is the one who cursed you. Therefore, she is the only one who can release you from your curse. She must also release you from your marriage vows, so you can be mine. Your one true love, your wife, is the higher power. She set the condition for the release from the curse.”

  And at those words, I felt as if the solid world had collapsed beneath my feet. His wife? Not just a true love, but a wife. The woman who’d cursed him. I was reeling from this news, waiting for him to speak to me, but to my shock, Salem simply rose from the throne.

  He smoothed out his shirt. “Fine. Where is this amphitheater, then?”

  Not a word to me, not a glance. Not a single acknowledgement of this new bit of information…

  Without looking at me, he crossed down the stairs, looping his arm through Richelle’s like they were already bride and groom. She leaned into him, whispering conspiratorially as they crossed out of the hall.

  A moment ago, I’d had the sense that he didn’t trust Richelle, but something had shifted between them. After she’d mentioned his wife, he’d just… given in.

  I stared at their backs, dreading following them. As they walked ahead, two guards closed in around me, flanking me. Suddenly, I felt very much like a prisoner.

  Richelle turned back to me, that disgusted look on her face again. “Bring the whore. Someone’s got a monster to kill.”

  My feelings for Richelle had shifted from pity to loathing.

  With the guards on either side of me, I followed behind them, quietly simmering.

  Again, I had that feeling. The one of falling from a very tall height, plummeting through the darkness like Salem had once done.

  That one word—wife—had opened a chasm between Salem and me, and now I wasn’t sure who to trust at all.

  Aenor

  Sometimes you didn’t notice things were there until they stopped—like the hum of a fan, or the babbling of a stream. And that was how it was with the bond between Salem and me. A cord I hadn’t noticed, an unbreakable connection tethering us to each other, had snapped. And I felt its absence.

  Salem had told me to trust him, that he’d never hurt me. But that had been before he’d learned the truth: he wasn’t going to the heavens unless he rid himself of his curse. His entire purpose in this world—to become a god again, live among the stars, and reign in perfect, peaceful divinity—hinged on killing this giant monster.

  But what if there was no monster? What if I was supposed to die?

  I shook my head. No, I was getting paranoid. Richelle couldn’t lie.

  Richelle and Salem were striding proudly ahead of me, still arm in arm, still whispering in a way that made my stomach churn. Flanked by the guards, I walked in silence behind them.

  When we got to a fork in the tunnel, Richelle and Salem veered off to the right. But the guards shoved me in another direction, to the left. And now, a bony hand of dread was tightening around my heart.

  My mouth went dry. That love potion had completely worn off.

  In this narrow, dank hallway, a few torches lit the stones, highlighting a slimy floor and walls. I turned to one of the guards, a man with long black braids. He stared straight ahead. The other guard had fallen behind in the narrow tunnel. When I stole a glance back at him, I found him leering at me. He looked younger than the other, with curling blond locks draped over one shoulder.

  He nodded at my legs. “We haven’t had any harlots here in a while. Pretty thing like you, walking around, showing yourself off. You’re gagging for it, aren’t you? Perhaps we could give you want you want.”

  Oh, here we go.

  And now, the alarm bells in my mind were ringing even louder. Because Salem—for all his faults—was protective of me. And here I was, trapped in tunnel with a pair of aggressive fae males who hadn’t seen a woman’s legs in probably centuries. It was sort of like… Salem suddenly didn’t care.

  “Why am I being separated from Salem?” I asked, unsure if I should still go along with this ruse or if I just needed to make a break for it. “I came here with him. I’m his prisoner, and he wanted to heal me.”

  The guard shoved me forward. I stumbled a little, and fear coiled more tightly through my chest. I could almost hear my heartbeat echoing off the tunnel walls.

  The jolt of panic kicked my brain into survival mode. This was a good thing. In survival mode, I no longer felt fear, just a clear precision of thought.

  What did I have at my disposal? I had a dagger in my little bag, along with the sea glass. I’d brought my little comb, too. I had the smallest bit of magic returned to me, courtesy of Richelle.

  “I think you two should tell me what happens next,” I said, my voice completely calm.

  “Or what?” the blond one said. “Will you spank us?”

  I took a look behind me, alarmed to find that three other guards now walked behind us. The one to my right had now pulled ahead of me, so they were boxing me in.

  Ah, what were the odds a group of militaristic men from a sexually repressed society would be aggressive perverts?

  Either Salem didn’t care what happened to me here, or he had somehow calculated that I’d find my way out of this unharmed.

  “Tell me what happens next,” I said with quiet rage, “or you will all regret it. Are we going to the glashtin?”

  Could they hear the dangerous edge to my voice? I slid my fingers into my leather satchel, pulling out the comb.

  “What happens next”—the one with dark braids stopped walking and turned to face me—“is you take off that little dress and show us your entire body. All of it. What happens next, harlot, is you make us all happy down here.” He adjusted his belt. “We haven’t had a woman in decades, and we’ll make good use of you. And when we’re done, we’ll throw you into the amphitheater to await your fate. Odds are you’ll die… but you’ll die having pleasured us first. So you can feel good about that.”

  “I’m thinking no.” I slammed my fist into his jaw. His head snapped back, and I shoved him out of the way as I broke into a sprint.

  My feet slammed against the rocky tunnel floor as I ran. The angry shouts of the guards echoed off the walls.

  While I sprinted, I summoned my sea magic—what was left of it, at least. It tingled from my chest and along my arms, a cold and soothing power, then shot down my legs to the bottoms of my feet.

  In the cloud that formed around me, I’d bought myself a little time.

  I gasped for breath as I ran. No idea where I was going, but I needed some time away from those creeps.

  I blocked out the sound of their shouting and focused on one thing—making it rain in the tunnel. I wouldn’t be able to bring a tsunami down on a city if I needed to, but a drizzle I could manage. Enough to make puddles. Within moments, a cold rain started to fall in the tunnel.

  My feet pounded the ground, and the air grew heavy and wet around me, salty with the faint taste
of brine. I heard the guards closing in on me, footsteps echoing, as mist clouded around me.

  Then the rain started to fall, hammering my skin.

  As my feet slapped against the sodden ground, I frantically tugged the comb through my hair. Through rasping breaths, I wheezed out a tune. Only through magic would the tune sound beautiful to them, because I could barely sing right now.

  Once again, I was struck by the sense that I’d been blessed with one of the dumbest powers. Morgan powers. Trying to sing while combing your hair was already ridiculous, but add sprinting into the mix? Absurd.

  And yet it had gotten me out of plenty of sticky situations in the past, and it would get me out of this one.

  It took few moments before I could feel the click of the magic taking hold, the certainty that my targets had become enchanted. As soon as they were under my spell, I had a vision of how I looked to them—a goddess, beaming with light in the fog. Now, I had the guards completely under my control.

  I stopped running and turned back to them. They nearly slammed into me, but I held up my hand. “Stop.”

  They skidded to a stop before me, and silence fell over the tunnel, broken only by our gasps for breath.

  Now, I was in charge.

  I raised my hand again and thinned some of the fog so I could see their faces. When the mist receded, I found the five fae guards staring at me—in awe, this time.

  Time to get some real answers.

  Aenor

  I pointed at the guard with the long black braids. “You—tell me where we’re heading in this tunnel.”

  “To the amphitheater, just like Richelle said. She can’t lie.”

  Perhaps… but she still didn’t seem trustworthy.

  “And what will happen at the amphitheater?” I asked.

  He fell to his knees, raising his hands to me like I was divine. “We mean you no harm, beautiful one.”

  “Good,” I said. “Now punch yourself in the face.”

  He looked confused for a moment, then slammed his fist into his own jaw.