Kingdom of the Western Wind

by Clara Martin

“What did they promise you?” he said flatly. I didn’t answer. “Tell me!” he roared. “Money, a job, safety – what was it?”

  “None of that,” a new voice said. I looked up. Maria stood at the door, peering in. She looked sad. “Charles, I can’t tell you what we promised her – but it was none of that.”

  Charles frowned. “If it was none of that” - “he turned to me and grabbed my other arm - “tell me it wasn’t about me,” he said urgently. I looked down and refused to answer. He grabbed my chin and forced my face up. “Tell me,” he whispered, “that they didn’t blackmail you because I am Lugh’s son.”

  Tears trickled down my face. Charles released my chin and swore. “Eileen, you shouldn’t have done this,” he said softly. “You put yourself in danger – you put your mother through hell – and for me? I’m not worth it.” He gently wiped away a tear and turned to the ambassador.

  “She goes home tonight,” he snapped. It was a tone that brooked no arguments.

  Ambassador Watkins pursed his lips. “You understand,” he said slowly, “that if news of your parentage leaks –”

  Charles made a savage cutting motion. “Stop talking. Just stop. That’s enough. You’ve done enough.”

  “Have I come at a bad time?”

  We all started and looked over. Matthieu stood at the door to the ballroom, smiling slightly. Harry sighed. “How I miss the embassy security of the human world,” he murmured.

  Ambassador Watkins was the first to recover. “Not at all, Comte Matthieu,” he said politely. “Perhaps you can help us with a small matter. “ He gestured at the assassin lying unconscious on the floor. “This man attacked me on the way back to the embassy while we were in the carriage. Were it not for the fast action of my staff, I would be dead.”

  The comte glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on Charles and me. Charles still hadn’t released my arm.

  “Most unfortunate,” the comte murmured. “The security here in the fae world is sadly lacking when compared to the human world. I have told Her Majesty many times that it will be the death of her.” He threw his head back and laughed at some unnamed joke. I stared at him, unimpressed. He caught himself and continued. “My apologies. Of course I will arrange transport to the local facilities. But I have not come on my queen’s behest, Ambassador – at least, not directly. I represent a…a faction, if you will, who is most concerned over happenings at court.” He hesitated. “Perhaps it would be best if we adjourned to another room.”

  “Of course.” Ambassador Watkins waved his hand at his staff. “Come,” he said.

  Charles lowered my hand and, after a warning glance at me, began to walk away. “We’ll talk later,” he murmured.

  “I beg your pardon,” the comte said politely, “but Mademoiselle O’Donnell will be needed as well, monsieurs.”

  “Absolutely not,” Charles said without turning.

  “It is a matter of the utmost importance –”

  “Charles, I can sit in on a meeting,” I said.

  He turned to me in a burst of motion and pressed his forehead to mine.“Eileen,” he whispered, “just a few days ago, you were in a mental hospital.” He closed his eyes in anguish. “Before that, you were kidnapped. Please.” He took a deep breath. “For me. Take it easy. I – I didn’t want to tell you this way,” he said awkwardly, “but before you left, you told me you loved me. Well, so do I.” He kissed me gently.

  “But this is charming,” the comte said, laughing slightly. Charles shot him a look of loathing andthen turned his attention back at me.

  I nodded slowly. “All right, Charles,” I said quietly. “I will. For you.”

  He closed his eyes in relief. “Thank you”

  “I’m going back to my room,” I announced to the embassy. Ambassador Watkins sighed but said nothing. The comte looked disappointed, and calculation flickered through his eyes. I turned and walked over to Maria, who was standing quietly in the doorway. “Let’s go,” I said.

  We walked in silence for a time. Finally, I asked, “Why did you tell him?”

  She shifted uncomfortably. “Charles? I didn’t tell him anything.”

  “You told him what you couldn’t tell him. That put him on the right track.”

  Maria sighed. “If you tell anyone this, I’ll deny it.” I nodded. “It never sat right with me, recruiting you the way we did. The hospital wanted you to stay for a few more days, Eileen. We took you out before you were ready.” She looked straight ahead. “I’m not proud of that.”

  I blinked. “The hospital wanted me to stay?”

  “Yes, Dr. Gupta thought you were no longer actively hallucinating but wanted to observe you to make sure you were fully out of psychosis. You are taking your medication, aren’t you?” She asked worriedly.

  “Yes, I am.” Another thing occurred to me, and I looked at her. “Why are you really here?”

  “Honestly? To keep tabs on you.” She shrugged when I stared. “I’m trained as an EMT, Eileen. If you started… degenerating, I’d notice, and get you help pretty quickly.”

  “Wow,” I said skeptically, “Homeland Security really values me highly.”

  “Well you are bonded to Lord Eamon.”

  “You are bonded to Lord Eamon,” Eamon agreed from behind me. He reached over and clamped down on my arm. The latent strength was the same as Charles’s, some part of my mind noticed clinically, but something important was missing – I didn’t feel as comforted. Maria gasped a little, and Eamon chuckled. “Yes, you can see me, Maria. When I focus enough – and am holding onto Eileen – others can interact with me. Which is why” - he started tugging me down the hall, in the opposite direction frowhere we were going – “we are going back to that meeting.”

  “No,” I snapped, digging in my heels, “we are not.”

  “Eileen,” Eamon said patiently, “Comte Matthieu represents a powerful faction here at court. You know that Faolain met with Bettina, one of the queen’s most loyal servitors. Well, now Matthieu wants to meet with your ambassador – and you. Add the pieces together.”

  I still resisted. “I thought they only know you as l’Inconnu. How could they possibly know it was you they needed to talk to?”Eamon raised an eyebrow. “I may have strategically mentioned my name as l’Inconnu’s go-to man,” he admitted. “I’m sure they suspect that I am, in fact, l’Inconnu. But they don’t really care right now; they just want to balance the power. Or possibly overthrow the queen. I don’t know, and I won’t know until I meet with them.” He sighed. “And may I point out that Faolain’s alliance is looking to invade the United States of America?”

  Sighing myself, I allowed Eamon to pull me down the hall. “I’m not happy,” I warned him, “and Charles will be unhappy as well.”

  “Well, lords of the Fae, save me from Charles’s displeasure,” Eamon said sarcastically. He opened a door and walked in. “Isn’t this cozy,” he said in greeting. “My Lord Comte, what an honor.”

  Charles, seated to the left of the ambassador, half rose in his seat, scowling angrily. The comte, seated at the end of one table, smiled lazily. “My dear Lord Eamon,” he murmured. “What a pleasure.” He stood and bowed. Eamon returned the gesture with a deeper motion.

  “What are you doing here, brother?” Charles asked pointedly. He cast a challenging look at the ambassador.

  “Why, brother,” Eamon said drily, “I’m negotiating for the future of all man-and-fae-kind.” He pulled out a chair. “Please, Eileen, sit,” he said courteously. I sat, feeling self-conscious. “Now, Comte,” Eamon said with a smile, “how may I serve you?”

  The comte folded his hands in front of him. “I will speak plainly, as I know you Americans appreciate.”

  “Appreciated,” the ambassador murmured, copying the motion. Charles was still glaring at Eamon. I winked at him, trying to lighten the tension. He glared at me instead. I sighed.

  “Simply put, Ambassador – we have no desire for war with the United States. We believe it will be disastrous f
or the fae and for humans. We have no desire for war with the rest of Europe – we have no doubt that this is where it will lead.” He paused and sighed. “Prince Faolain is an ambitious fool. He will not stop with ruling Northern Sun – he’ll unite fae-land into an empire, and I have no desire to be ruled by him. Therefore I – and a few other like-minded fae – would like to offer our support to l’Inconnu. On one condition.”

  “And what is that?” Eamon asked.

  “We must know who l’Inconnu is,” the comte said levelly. “If we are to trust our lives, our lands, to this unknown fae, he must have a name, a face.”

  Eamon nodded. “That,” he said, “is fair. And a condition I can easily meet. I am he.”

  The Comte sighed. “Then it is as we suspected,” he murmured. “I am most pleased and will take my leave. Lord Eamon, Ambassador, thank you for seeing me.” He rose and bowed once more.

  “I’ll see you out.” Ambassador Watkins hastened to the comte’s side.

  “Lord Eamon,” Jonas said, coming up to Eamon and nodding respectfully to me. “We have heard from Washington, DC – we’ll meet your requests.”

  Eamon nodded, satisfied. “Excellent.” With a mischievous look at Charles, he bent down and kissed me full on the mouth. I angrily pushed him away. “Good night, my dear,” he said, chuckling, and then disappeared.

  Charles walked over to my side. “Ready to go, Eileen?” he asked, holding out his hand. I grasped it, and he pulled me to my feet in a smooth motion that hinted at his strength. He tucked my hand more firmly in his and pulled me out of the meeting room. I looked at him. His face was blank, but a corner of his mouth ticked.

  “Charles…” I said hesitantly.

  “One moment, Eileen,” he murmured. We turned the corner and walked down a hall. “This isn’t the way back to my room,” I pointed out.

  “No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”

  We came to a room. He opened the door onto a room very like mine, small and spartan, but with only one bed. He gently ushered me in and closed the door behind me with a click. I eyed him. Every movement spoke of barely restrained violence.

  “I have had it” – he pulled his coat off and tossed it on the bed – “with patience, with caution, with restraint.” He stalked over to me and ripped my jacket off me. I sighed as he ran his hands down my body. They lingered over my breasts. “I want you, Eileen,” he said, his breath catching. “So much. Do you want me?”

  “Charles,” I breathed, reaching for his shirt, undoing the first button. That was all the answer he needed. He swept me into a firm embrace, bending me backwards with one hand anchored in my hair, and kissed me passionately.

  “I’ve been…so good,” he whispered. He nipped my lip. I moaned. “I’ve waited.” He slipped his tongue between my lips and then quickly withdrew it. I groaned in disappointment. “Enough.” His hand found my bottom and gave it a sharp, proprietary squeeze.

  “Charles,” I whispered. I reached up and framed his face with my hands. “I love you.”

  “I know,” he said gently. “God, do I know.” He kissed me on the nose. “I love you, too.”

  I gasped. He began to kiss down my neck, stopping to nibble at the nape. I threw my head back and gasped again. He picked me up and lay me down on the bed, undoing my shirt. He nibbled the top of each breast, reaching around and undoing my bra with a flick. He tossed the bra and the shirt on the floor and splayed his hands across my breasts, looking like a hungry man faced with a feast.

  I arched my back, whimpering, as he nestled between my legs. I could feel his erection through his pants, and I reached for him eagerly. He stopped me with a chuckle and pinned my hands over my head. “Wait,” he said softly, nuzzling the space between my breasts. “Just… wait. Feel.”

  “I think – that – I’m doing that,” I said between gasps. He chuckled again, and leaned up to kiss me on the lips. I nipped his lower lip, playfully; he groaned, and his eyes, already dark, darkened further.

  “The things you do to me,” he murmured. He let go of my hands and shrugged out of his shirt.

  “This,” Eamon said, “is lovely. But do you really want an audience?”

  Chapter 7

  I shrieked and tried to cover myself. Fast as lightning, Charles dropped my shirt across my chest and turned to Eamon, who was standing in the corner of the room.

  “Brother,” he said drily.

  “Brother!” Eamon said cheerfully. “How delightful. And my dear Eileen, of course – cheating on me? How could you? I’m devastated.”

  “Eileen,” Charles growled, “Is most certainly not cheating on anyone. We are dating.”

  “But she is bonded to me. And unfortunately, brother, some of her – shall we say excess? – emotion leaks down the bond.” Eamon shuddered elaborately. “Most uncomfortable.”

  Charles looked murderous. “Transfer the bond to me,” he growled, stepping towards Eamon.

  “Hmm.” Eamon tapped his fingers to his lips. “I don’t think that I will.”

  “What!” I blurted out before Charles could speak. “Why not!”

  “You don’t believe it’s because I’m attached to you, Eileen darling?” Eamon asked playfully. “It could also be because I’m trying to save the United States, Northern Sun, and Western Winds from a megalomaniac. That does play a role.”

  Charles dove at him, and Eamon crashed to the floor with a curse. They rolled around, smashing into walls and knocking a table over.

  “Stop!” I shouted sharply, jumping to my feet and quickly yanking on Charles’s shirt. “Stop! Don’t fight over me like I’m some – some bone!”

  Charles and Eamon were too far gone to hear me. They snarled, twisted, and punched until Charles put his fist through the wall. They both grew still, looking at it, slightly stunned, and I put myself between them.

  “Stop!” I placed my hands on their chests and forced them apart. “Eamon – first of all, you lied to me,” I said, coldly furious. “You said you needed to be touching me to manifest –”

  “Yes, well,” he said with a shrug, “our bond goes stronger. The magic flows both ways now.”

  “I can’t use magic,” I reminded him sharply.

  His eyes glinted, and he opened his mouth to reply, but Charles cut him off.

  “Eileen,” he said hoarsely, “I am so very sorry.” His hands hung limplyat his sides, and he looked exhausted. Blood trickled from a scratch on his temple, and one eye was swollen. I glanced at Eamon. He, too, had aswollen eye and what looked like a broken nose. I sighed.

  “It’s all right, Charles,” I said gently. “You’ve been under a lot of stress.” I reached for his hand, and he grasped mine with a sigh.

  “Now,” he said. “Brother, Eileen will be returning home tomorrow. She’s not going to be a part of this mission any longer. You have no reason to maintain the bond – give it to me.” He took a deep breath. “Please.”

  Eamon’s eyes flickered. “I rather think I do have reason to maintain the bond,” he said evasively. “But I will make you a bargain.”

  “And what,” Charles asked pointedly, “is that?”

  Eamon smiled. “Owe me a favor. Any favor, to call on whenever I ask – and in fourteen days, I will transfer the bond to you. My word on it.”

  I frowned. “I’d just like to point out that I still have no idea how I initiated the bond with Faolain.”

  Eamon laughed. “That’s what he gets for messing with humans! Eileen, because you can’t access your magic, it’s like a flailing web about you. It’s volatile. Unpredictable. Usually, it doesn’t work. But when Faolain, who was attempting to probe you, reached out with his magic, well…” He shrugged.

  “It formed a bond,” I said grimly.

  “A bond usually only shared by husband and wife,” Eamon said with a shout of laughter. “It’s generally a solemn ceremony with great grandeur and pomp.”

  “Is there any way to dissolve it completely?” I asked. Eamon narrowed his eyes at me. “There is,�
�� he replied slowly. “It can be transferred – that’s the way brides were stolen in the old days – or it can be dissolved.”

  Charles gripped my hand hard. I glanced at him and simply nodded. “Thank you,” I replied.

  Eamon bowed and disappeared.

  As soon as he was gone, I began to shake. Faolain’s face flashed in front of my eyes, and I saw the castle – the room where I where I had been held – felt his hands all over me…

  “No,” I moaned. “No.” I hid my head in my hands.

  “Eileen.” I heard Charles say as though from a distance, sounding concerned. “Eileen?”

  I nodded but couldn’t stop shaking. Faolain’s foul presence lingered in the room like a dead animal’s stench. I blinked; I was huddled in the corner, hands over my head. I didn’t remember having gone there.

  “Oh, Eileen,” Charles whispered. He was crouched down a few feet away from me, giving me space. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault.” He looked terribly guilty.

  “What happened?” I whispered. My throat felt rough, as though I’d swallowed dirt.

  “You had a flashback, Eileen,” he said gently. “Common with PTSD.” He paused. “It was probably triggered by our…interlude…and then my fight with Eamon,” he said with difficulty. “I’m so sorry.” Gently easing forwards, he took my hand.

  I started to cry. “Charles, I don’t see what you see in me,” I said between sniffles. “I have PTSD, schizophrenia, and a brain injury. You just had to commit me to a mental hospital. What could you possibly”—

  He gently brought my hand to his lips. “Oh, my heart,” he said softly. “You don’t see your bravery. Your kindness. Your intelligence. Your strength. I love you because of everything you are, including your disabilities, not in spite of them.”

  “Help me up,” I said, sniffling. He gently guided me to my feet. “I need to go and take my medication,” I said softly. Charles nodded and guided me towards the door.

  “I’ll walk you back to your room,” he said quietly. I nodded.

  We slowly walked back to my room. Charles placed his hand on my lower back. I felt safe, supported.