Sea Fae Trilogy

by C. N. Crawford

  “This room should be fit for a king, but the forest has started to take over. If I lived here, I’d have the place gleaming from top to bottom within a day. I’d have a tray of cognac, a wall of books to entertain me, a soft armchair, and a fire in the fireplace.”

  Frankly, the thought was starting to obsess me now. I wanted to make this happen for Aenor before we left. If she wasn’t going to be queen in Nova Ys, maybe she could rule here.

  This was like some primal mating instinct, to make a fortress for Aenor.

  But this wasn’t my castle anymore, and what if something happened to her when I left here? I imagined, for an instant, some contemptible castle bastards finding her here alone.

  Right now, she had no magic, and the hex weakened her. For a painful moment, I remembered the sound of my elbow cracking against her skull in the arena. I had an impulse to drive a dagger into my own skull to get rid of the memory.

  I began pacing before the curtain. My mind ignited with wild visions of a fortress I could build for her. First, I’d rip King Tethra’s body in half, incinerate the remains, and scatter them in the sea. I’d do the same to any of the nobility loyal to him. Their dying screams would ring out through the kingdom, a warning to others not to commit treason against their queen.

  I’d marry her, officially reclaim my kingdom, and then leave her to reign as queen with my death. I’d enchant these walls so the kingdom served her. Anyone who objected would feel molten rock enveloping them…

  I breathed out slowly, trying to regain control.

  “Salem,” said Aenor. “Your body is smoking again. I mean literally as well as figuratively.”

  I cast a look over my shoulder, finding that my wings had erupted behind my back and that flames blazed from the feathers, dangerously close to the curtains.

  “Ah.” Control, Salem. Gain control. Breathing slowly, I smoothed my hair. Then I snatched my trousers from the floor, dressing myself. “I do wish I had my cognac.”

  “What were you thinking about?” Aenor asked. “When you just started bursting into flame?”

  “I was thinking about protecting you by torturing to death anyone who refused to swear fealty to you.”

  Her jaw dropped open. “Salem. Once the divine hex is gone, I don’t need protecting. Trust me. And if the divine hex is not removed, I also won’t need protecting, because I will be dead. So, if you were fantasizing about burning people, it makes me wonder if that’s because you are just really into lighting people on fire.”

  I folded my arms, frowning. Bloody hell. She was right. I did like indulging in that fantasy. I wanted to keep Aenor safe, of course, but how good it would feel to turn Mag Mell into another Pompeii, a garden of charred bodies. A release…

  I nodded. “I suppose that’s true, yes. It is a favorite pastime.”

  “Maybe you could take it down a notch and learn to barbecue. I mean food, not people.”

  Heat seared my chest, and I felt like my heart was turning into glass. She was joking, I knew, but I thought there was a kernel of truth underneath the joke. That was what she hoped for, wasn’t it? Me, tamed. A safe version of her mate, a little house with warm windows and a grill in the backyard for parties.

  “You think I could be normal, Aenor? If I stayed here, you honestly think I could be… an ordinary person? Someone nice?”

  She bit her lip. “No, I could never imagine you as ordinary. Nor would I want to.”

  “Good. But it wasn’t just the burning people I was thinking about. I want you to live in the style into which you were born. Not a hovel. Some psychotic bastard stole your kingdom from you, I believe, and I need to fix it.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Oh, yeah, him. He was a complete monster. Pretty face, though, as long as he didn’t ruin it by opening his mouth.” She took a deep breath. “But maybe, just to be on the safe side, the psychotic fire-fuck needs to make amends by sticking around here. He needs to make sure nothing bad happens.”

  Clearly, Aenor knew exactly how to get her elegant fingers wrapped right around my heart. “He can’t. I can’t. But I can make you warmer.”

  I grabbed an old chair in the corner of the room, its wood rotten and covered in lichen, and smashed it against the wall until it fractured into little pieces.

  “Even when you’re being nice,” said Aenor, “it looks a little insane.”

  I crouched down, gathering the damp wood and carrying it into the empty fireplace. Then I leaned down, letting the magic flow from my palms into the broken wood. Without magic, this rotten chair would never catch fire, but the heat from my body had the intensity of Vesuvius. As I released the flames from my body, I felt a shudder of relief. The blaze burned hot, fire straining up the chimney.

  “Nicely done,” she said.

  I felt a flicker of satisfaction. I pulled out another chair, setting it down before the fire. Then I snatched her wet dress off the floor and laid it out to dry on the chair.

  Crossing back to her, I smiled at her curled up on the bed, watching me.

  She reached up for my face. “You, my psychotic fire-friend, took my power and my kingdom. But that century I spent living among the humans with no magic—it’s what made me what I am.” She looked down at her wrists, tracing her fingertips over the dark veins of her hex. “I remember it clearly now, when I killed that man with the waves. And I don’t think he was actually guilty of anything. I think that was more crap Mama said to get me to do what she needed. But the worst thing is, I liked it. I felt the power flowing through my body, and I just wanted to crush him with it. I wanted to pound his body into the rocks, because it exhilarated me. Kinda like how you enjoy burning people. Anyway, that’s why the sea god hexed me.”

  “Perhaps. We can’t know what the gods think, or that they’re wise. But so what if you have a violent streak? It doesn’t make you terrible, and it’s only one part of you.”

  She sat up, leaning into me. “I guess.”

  I glanced at the shadows cast by the flames, their fingers skimming the flagstones in wild, gyrating patterns. I pointed at them. “Look. You see how beautiful that is? The movement like spirits dancing across the stone. That beauty is painted by shadows. Light on its own is just a blank canvas.”

  Her eyes gleamed, and she smiled faintly. “Is that right?”

  “Light without shadows is tedious.”

  “Hmm. Well, if nothing else, I admire your talent for rationalizing murderous impulses using poetry. It’s quite a skill.”

  “I’m not saying you should torture people to death like I have. I’m saying you believe your nature is rotten, and you’re wrong. You think there’s something corrupt in you. But there’s something corrupt in all of us. Every living thing on Earth. Call it original sin if you want. You just have to learn to control it, even when you’re powerful. Especially when you’re powerful.”

  Her smile deepened. “Okay. Hmm. Morality lessons from the originator of sin. Good enough.” A yawn overtook her. She threw her arms up over her head and closed her eyes, leaning back on the bed.

  I liked the view. But the more time I spent with her, the more I loathed the idea of leaving her.

  It occurred to me that this beautiful, blue-haired fae was more dangerous to me than anything else in the heavens or earth.

  Salem

  I tried to keep the calm in my voice, even as my thoughts were spiraling ahead to the next thing. “Let’s wait out the storm, Aenor. Let your dress dry. Sleep a little.”

  My eyes were on the magic beneath her skin, moving too fast. But she was already falling asleep, and she rolled over to curl up on her side. I waited until her chest rose and fell slowly, so I was sure she was asleep.

  And when her breathing was slow, and she was nearly snoring, I stood quietly and crossed to the door.

  Pressing my hand against one of the stone walls, I closed my eyes. This castle, like everything else on the island, responded to me, the True King of Mag Mell. I listened for the faint music of its magic. Mentally, I
communicated what I needed to the walls. While Aenor was in here, no one was to enter this room apart from me.

  And after I left Mag Mell, the castle would keep her safe…

  My heart constricted. After I left, my magic would no longer work here.

  I pushed the thought of out of my mind, already thinking of my next task.

  I needed to go back to the Court of Silks. Richelle had already showed us what the risks were. My former wife was as powerful as I was, and she would stop at nothing to get what she wanted—my hands around Aenor’s throat. My fire igniting her.

  My wife would plague us until the end of days—always there, always watching. The only thing that would stop this train from crashing was Aenor’s death or mine.

  The will-o’-the-wisp that followed me wherever I went, flitting around my head—it was searching for signs of love. And the little creature had already seen them. That meant we were doomed.

  Quietly, I slung my baldric around my waist and sheathed Lightbringer. Then, carefully as I could, I opened the bedroom door. I slipped into the dark hall before Aenor could wake.

  Lady Richelle had been communing with higher spirits. So, who else did my darling wife have under her control? They could be anywhere—her agents, her spies. As I crossed through the hall, I had to wonder if any of them were in Mag Mell, even now.

  The thought made my blood simmer, and I felt the tips of my wings dragging across the stones on either side of the corridor as I stalked through it. When I looked down at myself, I realized my wings had once more erupted from my back, flames igniting some of the feathers. I wasn’t wearing a shirt, and a row of short, dark horns had erupted from the ridges in my shoulder blades.

  Burning. Falling.

  I was starting to turn into the beast again, and I’d hardly even noticed it happening. With an iron force of will, I mastered control of myself once more and willed my wings to disappear.

  I wouldn’t stalk around in this state, like an animal. Composure, mental control—it began with presenting a sophisticated facade to the world, the thin cloak of civilization I wore even when I was thinking of devouring people alive.

  As I passed a room with an open door, I peered inside. It was unimpressive, but not overgrown with plants. It looked like someone had been in there recently. The faint moonlight shone over a table set with wine and a plate of roast chicken, half-eaten. Hunger gripped my stomach.

  I didn’t normally feel hunger… at least, I hadn’t noticed it for a long time before I’d met Aenor. I ate only to keep my strength up, to keep up appearances. But now? I could think of nothing but a full meal of chicken, roasted potatoes, a rich gravy…

  My mouth watered. This was another effect of the mating bond, I thought. It was my instinct signaling that I needed to feed her. If the chicken hadn’t been touched by some filthy castle-rat’s hands, I’d have taken it back to Aenor right now.

  Instead, maybe I’d just keep the wine.

  I prowled over to a wooden wardrobe and pulled the door open. I was gratified to see an embroidered guard’s uniform and a selection of dark shirts and trousers hanging inside. I pulled my own damp trousers off, then dressed myself in a gray woolen pair. They were snug around the waist, and several inches too short, which infuriated me more than it should have. I hated looking like a slob, even in life-or-death situations.

  I pulled one of the shirts out and slipped it over my head. It was made of a rough wool, like something a peasant would wear, and it clung to my body, several sizes too tight.

  The state of this place… If I ruled it again, I’d have the guards’ rooms gleaming, their clothes made of the finest material.

  I snatched the wine bottle off the table, uncorked it, and took a sip. That thin cloak of sophistication was slipping off, but maybe the wine would help. Maybe it would help to quiet the violence simmering beneath the surface.

  In the corridor again, I stalked in the shadows, heading up toward the spiraled tower. I wanted to be done with this before Aenor woke, before she even noticed I was missing.

  Maybe there was another way out of this. Who knew? If I could free myself from the curse, ascend to the heavens still… Aenor would be safe; I’d be at peace.

  But for now, all I could think was that the sea glass was the only way to stop me.

  I moved swiftly up the spiral stairwell, thinking only of getting back to Aenor. I wanted her in my arms again, safe. And then I wanted to get her some bloody food, and a hot drink.

  But as I neared the top of the stairwell, I heard a door swinging open, then male voices echoing off the stone walls. My muscles tensed, and my fingers brushed against Lightbringer’s hilt.

  As I moved faster up the stairs, I smiled with sinister anticipation. Please give me an excuse to end your lives.

  By the top of the stairs, I found five royal guards all crowding the stairwell. The man in front—a fae with long black braids—stared at me a moment.

  I stroked Lightbringer’s grip. “Hello, gentlemen.”

  Gap-tooth stared at me. “Fellas, is this him? Salem?”

  Violence roiled in my blood. They knew my name. And that meant they probably knew about Aenor.

  The man in front of me swallowed hard, then drew his sword. “We saw what your swan did to Richelle.”

  One of the men in the back asked, “Where is your mate? The witch killer? She enchanted us in the tunnels. Filthy bitch. We’re lucky it wore off.”

  I tilted my chin down, enjoying the looks of fear on their faces as my wings erupted behind me, filling the stairwell. The scent of smoke filled the air. “Did she now? Let me explain something. You have one chance to make a blood oath of undying loyalty to your new king, Salem. One chance. Fail, and you die. Sacrifice your blood to me, here on the stone, pledging unending fealty to obey my commands, and you will live.”

  A blood oath would ensure they would follow my orders, that they’d be completely under my control.

  My fingers twitched at the sword’s hilt. No… maybe a blood oath wouldn’t do at all. I was in the mood for something more dramatic.

  All these fae guards were now blending together in my mind, like a faceless mass. Nothing but blood and bones. Living detritus. Mortals.

  And what would King Tethra do with my mate? I didn’t even want to imagine it. No, much better to imagine the deaths of the men in front of me.

  The black-haired guard pulled his sword. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what King Tethra would do to us. He’s mad. He boils people in oil. And in any case, I don’t like to be controlled, do I?”

  “You don’t know what I’ll do to you.” My low voice reverberated off the stone walls around us. “But I am looking forward to it.”

  The monster in me was rising like magma, pressure building. I longed to unleash the full force of my flames, to give in to that pure savagery. My searing aura was already starting to boom through the stairwell, a red-hot vibration over the stone. The castle walls around us almost seemed to fall away, giving way to the golden stones of Gehenna. I felt myself in that cave again—a god before mortals. A quivering, faceless mass of supplicants stood before me, ready to burn for me.

  The gods demanded sacrifice.

  I was the power of Vesuvius, a fiery reckoning sent from the heavens to punish the wicked. I was the smoke blotting out the sun in the end of times. I was the earth shaking, the divine wrath of the gods.

  Burn for me, mortals.

  “Wait!” cried the one in the front. “What if we just pledge a regular oath? It’s just that if the king learned of a blood oath—”

  “I am your god, and you will offer me tribute.”

  He started to raise his sword. I smiled, a snarl in my throat, and smashed his hand against the wall. I was crushing the bones, and his eyes bulged. His sword fell to the floor, skittering all the way down the stairs. I liked that feeling, the pure dominance. The scent of fear.

  Behind him, the other men had drawn their swords, but their fear was just as strong. It thicken
ed the air like smoke.

  The man with the black hair was shouting at them, but his words were indistinct to me now. Words meant nothing. The only thing that had meaning now was that my hand was on his skull and I was bashing his head into the wall. The red blood painting the stone was all that mattered.

  A tentative blade cut into my side, and that was enough for me to end it all. Mortals would learn to bend to the will of a god.

  The heat that erupted from my body blinded even me. All at once, the air smelled of burned hair and flesh. The blast of white-hot flames singed the walls, turning them black as soot. It all happened so fast that my victims didn’t even have time to scream. Ash rained around me, coating my clothes.

  Smoke billowed through the stairwell, and I waved it out of my face. It smelled of sulfur now. A wretched smell.

  When I looked down at the men, they’d curled into contorted positions on the stairs, their bodies now ashy cinders. I’d cracked one of the skulls open before the blast, and a bit of his brains had spilled out, turned into dark glass by the heat of my fire. That was the effect of extreme heat on fat. I’d seen it many times. In the eruption of Vesuvius as well… I had been there, of course. There to hear the screams, to find the bodies.

  I brought the bottle of wine to my lips and took a long sip.

  But I didn’t feel the sense of release I’d hoped for. I still felt shame cutting me open. Perhaps I should have gone slower, drawn it out. No, that wasn’t the problem.

  The problem was that I was a monster.

  I took another long sip of the wine, closing my eyes to try to calm myself. I’d recovered from this once. I’d freed myself from this. I didn’t want to unleash myself completely, not when I was so close to the end.

  I glanced at my wings, which were burning again. Then I brushed the ash off my clothes, trying to regain my composure.

  I took a deep, shaking breath. The veneer of sophistication was gone. I’d taken off my thin cloak of civilization, and I’d lit the fucking thing on fire.