by Layla Harper
Fae King’s Vengeance
Court of Bones and Ash: Book 4
Layla Harper
Fae King’s Vengeance
Copyright © 2020 by Layla Harper
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by: Hot Tree Editing
Cover Art: Deranged Doctor Designs
For more information:
www.laylaharper.com
Created with Vellum
For Lee
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Also by Layla Harper
About the Author
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Faith is seeing light with your heart when all your eyes see is darkness.
Barbara Johnson
1
Kyra
I sink my elbow into the vampire’s stomach. Spinning around, I race for Ilearis’s slumped form before Aelinor’s minions can throw us into the portal they’ve just opened.
Something grabs me from behind, sharp points digging into the back of my scalp, and I’m shoved forward into the whirling vortex of light. Magic stings the exposed areas of my skin like hundreds of tiny hungry mouths. A minute later, the spinning sensation stops.
Ilearis drops to the ground beside me.
I lift my head. We’re no longer in the goblin camp but outside a portcullis built into a massive gatehouse.
Azgagh?
It has to be.
“Get up.” Magda drives the heel of her boot into Ilearis’s back.
“You’re despicable.” My lips curl. I gesture to Aelinor, who’s watching me from behind with the same disgust that has to be flaring in my eyes. “She killed your kind in the Forest of Night and yet you—”
She plows her fist into my stomach with preternatural speed. Grabbing a handful of my hair, the vampire brings her foul mouth to my ear. “That is my new queen you decry.”
“Fuck you, traitor,” I spit.
She releases me with a shove to the ground.
“So weak.” Aelinor snickers. With a regal air that makes me see red, she skirts around us to lead her ghastly crew of goblin, demon, and vampire soldiers down the beaten path to the iron gate looming ahead.
Hate boils in my veins with a ferocity that steals my breath. I've never wished harm on another living being, but Aelinor?
I want to see her suffer a slow, horrible, and painful death.
Clutching my stomach with one hand, I bite back the bile racing up my throat and push onto my feet. Rowena’s blood coats the front of my tunic and pants, and the echo of her heartbreaking wail still rings in my ears, threatening to douse my rage with a blanket of fear.
I can’t let that happen. She and Ilearis fought tooth and nail against a drunk-on-goblin-souls Aelinor to save me.
Until their magic waned and Rowena's illusions broke.
Then Magda let her claws do the rest.
I squeeze my eyes to block out the memory.
Stay focused.
We need to stay alive until Rogar arrives. Because he will. Magda was the only one of Frinhol’s guards working for Aelinor. Once Rogar gets back from the queen’s fortress, he’ll find us. And if anyone can figure a way out of this mess, it’s him.
“Come on, Ilearis.” I gently prod her shoulder. She grips my bicep. Tears leave track marks across her bloodstained cheeks. “It’s going to be okay.”
Please let it be okay.
A solid number of guards patrol the outside perimeter with more situated atop what must be a fifty-foot curtain wall. Beyond the barbican, we cross into a vast courtyard bursting with noise and smoke. Canvas tents are set up in clusters around large campfires where hardened male and female warriors glare as we enter the enclosure.
Adding to the hostile ambiance is the ruined castle soaring in the background. Gothic in feel, it looks better suited to be perched upon a rocky cliff than an ashy desert. Two damaged towers flank a stone structure with black towering spires aimed at the sky like bloody spears. Scorch marks fan across two of its exterior walls. The fact that the edifice still stands is a testament to the ancient fae who’d erected this imperial building with its grand arches and sweeping windows before their world went to shit.
Aelinor veers to the left of the massive curved double doors with metal rods running in horizontal rows, our destination a smaller structure constructed entirely of… ice?
No, glass.
Probably forged from Argomar’s sand.
As if to confirm my hypothesis, my skin pebbles from the weight of the foul magic hanging in the air.
Aelinor climbs the glass stairs and crosses the landing. Two fire realm warriors stand on either side of grand doors, gripping crystal handles. Never breaking her stride, she flicks her wrist. The guards bow and pull the doors open.
“Double the perimeter patrol,” she barks without sparing either a glance.
“Yes, my queen.”
Queen?
I manage not to snort and turn my face to hide my contempt.
We shuffle inside. Aelinor’s small army of goblin and vampire mercenaries splits off inside the building, taking positions near the doors and other key locations. The queen wannabe marches to the glass steps leading to a dais with a crystal throne worthy of a B-grade fantasy movie. On the floor to the right is a huge crate with six or seven fae beings lying on the ground. Most have their backs to us, but I note three goblin males and a horned fae with its face buried in a bulky bicep.
Prisoners or dissenters?
If I can free them, would they help us escape?
Aelinor lowers herself onto the ostentatious chair and crosses one long leg over the other, her traitorous eyes narrowing in my direction.
At the foot of the dais, Magda sinks her claws into my shoulders. “Kneel.”
Although the rational part of my brain knows complying with the command is the smart thing to do, the loyal part of me—the part that loves Rogar—revolts. Surrendering to this bitch in any form feels like a betrayal of his trust.
“Never.” And for once, all of my body parts are in agreement with my wayward tongue.
Ilearis straightens her spine, standing proudly beside me in solidarity of those this false queen of lies and misery would take from us.
Cruel magic snaps around my hips and wrenches me to the floor, wringing a yelp from my throat. I slam against glass harder than cement, excruciating pain exploding beneath my kneecaps. My eyes burn with tears, but I bite back a groan and lift my chin to meet Aelinor’s cold, empty stare. Her right arm sits on the transparent armrest, elbow hinged, one slender finger tapping the underside of her chin. She
looks so freaking pompous my stomach clenches.
To think I’d defended her to Rogar back in the cavern.
The thought alone makes me sick.
“Your pride will be your downfall, human. However, it is a character trait I can appreciate. But your steadfast devotion to my cousin, although admirable, is severely misplaced.”
“Misplaced?” I sputter.
“Yes, misplaced. The honorable king of the orcs is not all he seems.”
Rogar may not be perfect, but he’s more than his past. More than his future. More than the lies spilling out of her mouth.
“So this is about unseating him?” I shift my body and immediately grimace at the pain stabbing my knees. “You want his crown?”
“I have no desire to rule Drengskador. The lands the high queen stole will be returned to their rightful owner, the kingdom of Regnir.”
If that happens, the autumn court, with her mother at the helm, will purge every orc from Drengskador.
“All this”—she flicks a hand in the air—“is about righting a wrong. Or at least it began that way.” Aelinor uncrosses her legs. “For too long, the needs of Alfhemir have been ignored by the high queen. Faerie thirsts for a ruler who understands the darkness permeating every level of our society. A ruler unafraid of our violent roots, who is true to our nature. Although commendable, righteousness and honor do not serve the needs of the fae, and as a result, we are broken. Weakened. Little more than shells of our former selves.” Her brown eyes shimmer, glowing brightly with the passion of her words. She leans forward, gripping the ends of the armrest. “I will right Alfhemir. I will restore the mighty houses of Faerie to their former glory!”
“How? By steamrolling over anyone who opposes you? Good luck with that.”
“Tsk, tsk. You may be human, but you are far from stupid.”
“Stupid is attempting to resurrect an evil wizard who nearly destroyed your world the last time he lived.”
Aelinor belts out a laugh. “I may just keep you locked in a gilded cage for my amusement.”
It hits me then. She’s… crazy.
Really crazy.
Past the cuckoo’s nest crazy.
Fear banks the anger burning in my blood. This is bad. There’s no reasoning with the deranged, and Aelinor believes every word she spews. It’s evident in the lines of her face, her posture, her entire stance. She sees herself as Alfhemir’s savior, and anyone who opposes her is Faerie’s enemy.
“You have brought me good fortune, Kyra of the Earth plane. Because of you, I now have the means to break the queen’s wards. Wizards are so rare.” There’s a hint of longing in her voice. “She will be of great value to me. When Myrkur rises, perhaps I will grant you the honor of witnessing his momentous ascension. That is, if you do not wear out your welcome before then.” She turns to Magda. “Bring me the girl.”
The vampire drags a struggling Ilearis up the stairs and forces her to kneel at Aelinor’s feet.
“No, wait.” Panic takes hold of my body, but Aelinor’s magic has me pinned to the floor, leaving me helpless to do anything but watch.
She places her hands on Ilearis’s shoulders and closes her eyes.
The girl’s body goes rigid beneath her touch. She grunts, and her slender frame shakes under Aelinor’s assault.
“Stop it, please. You’ll kill her.”
“I feel the portal’s mark on her powers. Pity.” When Aelinor removes her hands, Ilearis slumps forward. The vampire catches her before she falls against Aelinor’s legs.
Leaning back into her glass chair, Aelinor arranges her silver-white hair over a shoulder, her brown eyes evaluating the unconscious wizard before her. “Completely drained. Of all the scenarios we had planned at that hovel of a tavern, none of us had accounted for losing our magic. Very well,” she says as if coming to some internal decision, “I will not torque her.” She swings her scary, too-alert gaze to mine. “Consider it a gift, human.”
The magic restraining me vanishes, and I collapse onto my side. The burning in my knees momentarily halts before the searing ache returns with a vengeance.
A metal screeching makes me jerk my head left. Two of Aelinor’s red-winged demons hold thick chains in their hands, lowering another giant cage to the ground. I scan the ceiling, switching my focus to the rear of the building. Two additional cages are suspended in each corner of the room.
“Your home for the foreseeable future.”
I let out a breath, my bravado giving way to a mix of trepidation and fear.
One of Aelinor’s silver brows creeps higher than the other. “What?” Her pale lips widen over white teeth. “Did you think I would provide you with accommodations fitting the mate of a king? Silly human. Magda, see that my bath is prepared.” She rises from her throne and signals to the goblin standing by the door. “Veert will assist you.”
The vampire bows. “You are too kind, my queen.”
Aelinor’s smile slips from her face. “I like you, Magda. Truly I do.” In the next instant, she wraps her claws around the baobhan sith’s neck, lifting the female clear off the floor. “Betray me as you did Frinhol and you will wish you had died upon that bloody field with the rest of your comrades. Do I make myself clear?”
The vampire’s hoofed feet dangle beneath the bloodstained hem of her green dress. She nods and utters something that sounds like a choked “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Good.” Aelinor opens her hand.
The vampire lands with a clack and then drops into a curtsy.
“Be off with you.” Aelinor shoos her away.
Magda vaults the stairs dividing the dais from the main floor in one leap and rushes to the goblin waiting for her by the door.
Ilearis hasn’t moved, her small form crumpled at the base of the throne, and from where I’m lying, I can’t tell if she’s breathing.
Aelinor steps over her body and descends the four steps separating us, hesitating by my feet. My weight is on my left side, my knees ballooned to the size of grapefruits, pressing uncomfortably against the leather fabric snug around my extended legs.
Cocking her head, she considers me and then lowers into a crouch. “What is it about you, human? I barely detect your scent, and yet you smell… different.”
Wizard, wizard, wizard, my brain screams, sending my heart into a blind panic.
“I cannot place the fragrance”—she frowns—“yet it calls to me. How strange.” She inhales again, deeper this time, spiking another flurry of fear. I can’t let her discover what I am. Not yet. Not until I’ve figured a way out of this glass hell.
But how? Distract her? Deflect? Piss her off?
“I-I forget how sensitive fae noses are. Maybe it’s the king’s scent you smell on my skin?”
My words seem to snap her out of a spell. Wrinkling her nose with disgust, Aelinor shakes her head. “Rogar’s seed. Of course. Human promiscuity is well documented in our annals.”
She snorts and looks away.
I hold my breath… waiting, waiting, waiting.
Abruptly, her steely gaze whips back, startling me. Her hand snaps to my chin, lifting my face until I have no choice but to stare into the burnished depths of her cold eyes. “Do you love him?”
I don’t answer because I know I can’t hide the truth from my expression.
“He will pay dearly for you. How his heart will break when he watches your life drain away. The hollow hole your death leaves behind will haunt him for the rest of his days.”
I vow to never let it happen.
Somehow, I’ll find a way to stop her.
2
Kyra
As if reading my mind, Aelinor says, “You would thwart my efforts when so many fae before you have fallen?” Her mouth twists into a wide smile. “What else would you do to save your life? Forsake your king?”
She seems to search for the answers in my gaze and then laughs out loud. “I could make it worth your while, human. Riches? A harem? Prestige? A return to your world? What woul
d it take to make you stray?”
There is nothing, in this world or mine, she could possibly offer to achieve that end.
Nothing.
“I feel sorry for you, Aelinor. Bribes might buy you obedience, temporarily maybe, but they will never buy you loyalty. Or allegiance.”
Her fingers dig in to my chin. “What would you know of loyalty? You who are derived from a fickle race who bows to coin and excess?”
“Look around you. Seriously, take a long hard look,” I prod. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Her eyelid twitches, but she doesn’t break eye contact for a second.
I hook a thumb toward the guards behind me. “That’s not loyalty. Given a choice, your army would abandon you—” I snap my fingers. “—in a heartbeat. Oh wait. Half already have. Isn’t that right?”
“Shut your mouth.”
“Rogar commands loyalty. People freely follow him into battle. They die for him, not because of what he’s promised them or what he gives them but because of who he is. What he represents. What he stands for.”
She rises to her feet. “Enough.”
I’m on a roll and too fired up to stop or pay attention to how her body has suddenly gone rigid. “You might call yourself a queen. They might treat you as one, but let’s face facts. You will never be half the ruler Rogar is. Never.”
She screams, and her magic sends me flying across the room.
My back slams against the empty metal cage and I crash to the floor, unable to breathe. Pain splinters to every corner of my body, and I groan. My tongue may have cost me a bone or two, but on the bright side, I got my wish. I’ve put distance between me and the false queen. And man oh man, did it feel good telling her off. My delivery might need a little work, though.