“Good. Well, I’m just here for the show with Melisande. Not that I particularly care to see her force you to smash your head against the wall again. I mean, it was funny at the time, but I don’t know. A little gauche, perhaps?”
“Not exactly the word I’d use, but it’s a start.”
“Speaking of gauche, does it bother you that Melisande and Lyr used to rut like animals years ago?”
“Like I said. Bigger issues on my mind.” I sipped my wine. “But any animals in particular?”
He let out a dramatic sigh. “It’s not fun if it doesn’t make you jealous. You know, I once cursed an ex-lover to grow a horse’s tail after I caught him looking too long at a human simpleton.” He twirled the stem of his wineglass. “Speaking of human simpletons, what happened to yours?”
Gina was no simpleton. She was back in London, applying to colleges. “None of your business.”
The sound of clanking chains heralded Melisande’s arrival, and I turned to see her walking through the hall behind Lyr, hands bound.
Despite her time in prison, she still managed to look gorgeous, her skin glowing and dark hair cascading over her shoulders.
She hissed at me. “You cut my wings off, Aenor.”
“And you betrayed your own court and tried to kill me.” I smiled sweetly. “You’re lucky I left you alive.”
She blew a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. “Well, my wings are growing back. I’ll work my way back into the court’s good graces. And I didn’t need to kill you because you’re dead inside. I can see it in your eyes. Dead.”
My pulse raced.
“Melisande,” Lyr cut in sharply. “You’re here for one reason and one reason alone. We’re going to see if Aenor can resist a mind-control enchantment.”
“This will be fun.” Gwydion grinned.
“Why?” asked Melisande. “What stupid shit’s she got herself into now?”
“You don’t need to know that.” Lyr pinned me with his pale gaze. “Aenor, this is only a test. But you need to imagine a protective bubble in your mind. It’s like a clear bubble that pushes out another person’s influence. Close your eyes and picture it, clear as you can.”
I nodded, closing my eyes. In my mind’s eye, I envisioned a bubble of shining white light, a crystalline surface. I opened my eyes, keeping the mental image. “All right, Melisande. Hit me with your magic.”
“Wait.” Lyr grabbed her arm. “You do understand that you can’t do anything that hurts her, right? Just enchant her to do something harmless. No injuries.”
“Boring. But fine,” she snapped, and she stared into my eyes.
I summoned a clear bubble in my thoughts, but as soon as Melisande’s eyes began shifting to warm hues, my mental bubble started to melt.
How could I resist the goddess standing before me? She beamed like the sun.
I fell hard to my knees, grinning up at her. There was something I was supposed to be doing now, but it was hard to remember, because I had to worship her.
She snatched the bottle of wine off the table, then handed it to me.
I took it from her, grinning. A gift from a goddess!
“Pour it on yourself, tunnel swine,” she said.
How was I to resist her charm?
I poured out the whole bottle on my head, dousing myself in sweet dandelion wine. It streamed down my hair and face, soaking my shirt, just like she wanted. I licked my lips, tasting its delicious tang.
“Now, from your knees, tell me about how you’re a filthy little mud whore,” she said.
“That’s enough.” Lyr’s barked words broke the spell as Melisande’s gaze snapped away from me.
I looked down at my wine-soaked tank top and shorts. Ugh.
“This obviously isn’t working,” said Lyr.
“Let me try again,” I snapped. “It was just my first try.”
This had to work.
Lyr’s pale hair whipped around his head as his magic whirled around him. He looked furious.
“Fine, Aenor. Try again. Focus. If you are unable to do this, we can’t allow Salem to return your power to you.”
I took a deep breath and rose from where I kneeled. I squeezed out the wine from my tank top onto the stone floor. “I can do this.”
Clear bubble, like a sphere of air in the wide ocean.
I shook out my limbs like an athlete getting ready for a race. Then I closed my eyes, calling to mind a shiny glass sphere. In my mind’s eye, I gave it a pearly sheen—so real I could almost touch it.
“Okay,” I said.
Melisande’s eyes shifted to the color of flames, and my breath caught in my throat.
The bubble gleamed in my mind, and I pushed out the feel of her magic, blocked out her influence. She was talking to me, but I wasn’t going to listen this time. I was Aenor Dahut of Meriadoc, Scourge of the Wicked, and I would resist. This time, I would prove that…
This time…
What was I doing?
Thing was, the goddess before me wanted me to dance on the table. Who was I to argue with a divine being?
Smiling, I leapt onto the table, my hips gyrating to an invisible beat. It was like I could almost hear Elvis floating through the air.
“Stop!” Lyr shouted.
The spell broke.
Son of a gun.
Gwydion smirked. “Was that what humans call twerking?”
Lyr, on the other hand, didn’t find this funny at all. His muscles had gone rigid, and his eyes had shifted to gold. When I looked into them deeply, he looked… haunted.
My heart clenched.
I felt like I was disappointing him.
Swallowing hard, I leapt down from the table. “Look, it’s just like anything else, I’m sure. It will take practice. I’ve only tried twice, and that one was a little better. So we’ll just try again. We can keep trying, until I’m good at it.” My wine-soaked top clung to my skin. “Just give me a second to clear my thoughts again.”
But as I started to call up my clear bubble, a raven swooped into the room. My pulse raced at the sight of a tiny piece of paper in its beak. Another message from Salem.
Circling above my head, the raven opened its beak, and the scrap of paper fluttered to the ground. I picked it up and read it, my heart hammering.
Walk outside to meet my driver now. He will take you to Jerusalem. Don’t try to resist, pet. I control you now.
Tick tock. Time was up.
6
Aenor
Lyr took the paper from me, his body glowing with magical light as he read it. “No. We’re not delivering you to him so he can control your power. It’s like we’re giving him a powerful weapon.”
“Does she have a choice?” asked Gwydion. “Beira said this wine-soaked wretch is supposed to save the world. The books say the Merrow plays a part. She’ll have to get to Salem to make that happen, and he’s not here. He sent a driver. Look, Lyr, a prophecy is a prophecy.”
“Stop talking, Gwydion,” Lyr snarled. “Before I rip your heart out.”
Lyr had shifted into his Ankou form, horns gleaming tall on his head. He liked to be in control, and he wasn’t in control of any of this.
He glared at his brother. “Seneschal, take our prisoner back to the dungeons.”
Gwydion grunted, then started dragging Melisande out by her chained hands. Melisande shot me one last furious look before she skulked away behind the seneschal.
Now, Lyr and I were completely alone in the shadowy hall.
“Just trust me, Lyr,” I said. “I can do this. I’ve memorized the summoning spell if I really need you.”
I felt that icy gulf again between us. I didn’t want to reach for him again only to find him stepping away.
“What is going on with you?” I hadn’t realized I was about to say it before the words were out of my mouth.
For just a second, his determined features softened. Then wildness burned in his eyes.
“I have a new plan,” he said. “I know a way
that we can stop your magic. We kill this servant that he has sent. We hang the driver’s body from the castle. We bring Salem to us, then I trap him. We trap him forever. Then you can return to London, and things will be just like they were before.”
For one dreadful moment, I felt like the world was shaking underneath me, that a wave of water was about to swallow me up. This was a freaking punch to the gut, wasn’t it?
“You want me to return to London?”
His brow furrowed. “Things need to return to the way they were. So I can have my mind back. You said you had no interest in ruling Nova Ys. Is that still the case?”
“Yes, but that’s not…” That wasn’t what was hurting my heart. “You want things to return to how they were before we knew each other.”
Salem’s lackey was waiting right outside for me, and this was what Lyr decided to say? I want you to leave.
“You cost me a part of my soul,” he said quietly.
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what to say, but it wasn’t like I’d done it on purpose.
His gaze cleared. “Look, we don’t have time for this. We will kill Salem’s servant, and then I will block your power. I have a binding collar that I can put around your neck.”
“What?” So that was why the book had been open in the library. Lyr had been researching how to steal my power for good.
That haunted look returned to his eyes, his pupils going unfocused. “A collar. It will dampen or eradicate any magical power you might acquire. It will help to mitigate the risk in case Salem manages to get his hands on you.”
“I know what it is, but no. Hells no.”
He stepped closer, body tense. “You saw the risk. Fields torched, crops on fire. People burning in the streets, smoke rising from their bodies. Charred corpses. You can’t give him more power. We kill Salem, together. Nothing else matters. Then it can all go back to the way it was before.”
Before we ever met.
He held out his open palm, and a small ring glowed in it. The ring expanded, till it was large enough to fit around a person’s neck. The binding collar.
“Once this is on you,” he said, “you won’t even see it. Or feel it.”
At that moment, I felt the ghost of my sea magic start to whisper up my spine, making me shiver. My stolen magic was calling to me like a lost child.
Instinct compelled me to step away from Lyr. He took another step closer, and I found that phantom yearning for my magic intensifying. It was a sharp ache between my ribs. “No. And your plan doesn’t even make sense.”
Gold light beamed around Lyr’s body, tingling across my skin.
I could almost imagine them, the claws of ice that would sprout from my fingertips… “I’m not the threat, Lyr. It’s the Fomorians. The fire fae. They will make the seas boil. They will destroy all life on earth by heating the air. I can stop them. I’m the one who can stop them.” The words tumbled out of my mouth, and I realized how nuts I sounded.
Lyr cocked his head, eyes gleaming. He didn’t believe a word I was saying.
Suddenly, I wanted to get out of here. I wanted to run and never look back.
I focused on the feel of my feet on the stone ground, trying to root myself to the earth.
I have survived. I will keep surviving.
I’d been through worse, hadn’t I? I’d lived a hundred and fifty years looking after myself.
I glanced at the collar in his hand again, my thoughts whirling so fast that I could hardly think straight. “I can do this, Lyr. I can find a way to manipulate Salem. He wants me to find something for him, and I’ll lead him to the Merrow. Understand this: I’ve wanted to kill him for a hundred years, long before I even knew his name. He ruined my life.” I thought of what Melisande had said: dead inside. “Over a century, I’ve wanted to kill him. This is my chance to get my power back, and to get my revenge. And save the world. Like Beira said. This is my destiny, and I’ve never felt something so strongly before in my life.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, another raven swooped in with a piece of paper in its beak. I held out my shaking hand, and the raven dropped the paper. It fluttered into my palm.
Leave now, or face my wrath, Aenor. I’m not a patient man.
Lyr pulled it out of my hand. “He will feel my wrath when I rip his driver’s head from his body.”
“I don’t think that will achieve much of anything. I doubt the devil cares for his driver.”
I was about to head back to my room for my things when Salem’s wrath arrived.
It started with a sound like a drumbeat in my mind. A deep, slow rhythm pounding through my blood, a beat echoing off rocky cave walls.
A dark heartbeat, and a voice from the oldest parts of my brain—the command of a primal god.
Pick up the wine bottle. Smash it.
My own thoughts rebelled. This wasn’t like Melisande’s enchantment. I was still here, still trying to resist. And yet I found myself pulling away from Lyr and spinning around to snatch the wine bottle from the middle of the table. I brought it down hard on the wood tabletop, shattering the end to leave jagged edges of glass.
Panic filled my lungs.
Press the broken shards to your wrist.
Even as my own mind screamed, I felt myself pressing the shattered end to my wrist—
Lyr caught my arms, pulling them apart. He squeezed my wrist hard enough that the broken bottle dropped to the floor, shattering completely, then he pulled me close against him, dragging me away from the table, away from the wine bottle. For the first time in days, I was in a tight embrace.
But I didn’t feel any warmth from it. All I felt was Salem watching me, waiting to see if I’d follow his orders. Seemed he didn’t even have to be here to control me.
“You’re not ready to go yet,” Lyr snapped.
“I clearly don’t have a choice.” And I wanted to go, too. It was like the past hundred and forty years had suddenly crystalized into a single purpose: kill my nemesis.
I tried pulling away from the tight embrace, but Lyr suddenly didn’t seem to want to let me go. He held tight to my arm, then lifted the collar before my face. It gleamed pale blue.
“Let go of me,” I snarled.
“And let you be Salem’s plaything?”
I bristled at the term plaything.
“It’s for your own protection,” he went on. “I know you’d never forgive yourself if Salem made you kill millions of people.”
Oh, he was good.
I actually considered it for a moment. Then I glanced down at the collar, repulsed by its metallic sheen. “It doesn’t add up. The prophecy is fire. Not ice or water.”
Was it Salem that Lyr feared so much—or me? Why did I feel like this was punishment for the loss of his soul?
Lyr rolled the collar in his hands, the movements hypnotic. The rest of his body stayed completely still. A chill rippled over my skin, adrenaline pulsing. Instinct told me to hold on to my power as much as I could, that I’d need it. That it was the best way to fight the real threat of the Fomorians.
His eyes blazing with gold, Lyr reached for me with the collar—
My stomach swooped. That was when I yanked my arm from his grip and ran at full speed. I ran for the window, arms flailing.
I felt the water calling for me, asking for me to keep it safe.
And I leapt for the sea.
7
Aenor
When I hit the water, something felt wrong in the sea. I couldn’t quite make out what it was, though. With a pang of regret, I realized I hadn’t had enough time to grab my comb—my own tool of enchantment.
Still, I didn’t have time to mull over any of that now. Lyr and every knight in the fortress would be after me within moments, wielding that damn collar.
I kicked my legs, propelling myself through the cold water with the stunning speed of a morgen. The knights would be after me, but I had an advantage in the water.
After swimming a few minutes, I could hear
them following behind me, the vibrations of their magic pulsing through the waves. My stomach clenched. How quickly I’d become their enemy.
Lyr had lost his damn mind, but at least I could run from him. His World Key wasn’t much use if he didn’t know where to find me.
Salem, on the other hand, was someone I couldn’t run from. Not yet.
I swam faster, blood pounding as I rushed through the water. I didn’t stray far from the shoreline, hugging it as I swam south along the coast.
Slowly, it started to dawn on me what was wrong with the sea around me.
It was ever so slightly too hot. Just a degree or two. I wasn’t sure how I could tell, but it just felt warmer than it should be. Had that single Fomorian been able to change it so fast?
As I swam, I heard the drumbeat in my mind again. Salem, watching me, wherever I went. With that sinister rhythm pounding over my skin, I felt an overwhelming desire to turn and head for the shore.
As the drum pounded through my blood, I called to mind the image of a clear bubble. Except Salem’s magic seemed to be about sound, and the image in my mind did nothing to keep it out. Inside my mind, I imagined a song, trying to drown out the drumbeat for just a moment—
But his magic boomed louder, and I found myself compelled to turn for the shore, moving at a fast clip.
I’d done it, though, for just a moment. I’d started to resist him.
When I stepped out onto the shoreline, the first thing I saw was a Lincoln Town Car parked by the street, windows shaded black. Already, I knew it belonged to Salem.
I glanced behind me, my breath stuttering at the sight of Gwydion coming for me, sword drawn. Lyr strode from the sea right behind him. He gripped the binding collar.
Fear tightened my throat, and I rushed for the car like Salem was my salvation. I wrenched open the rear door, throwing myself into the back seat. One last glance at the sea, and I saw them running for me at full speed.
“Drive!” I shouted.
I hadn’t even had a chance to get a look at the driver when the car pulled out at shocking speed. I slammed back into the leather seats, scrambling to right myself. As the driver took a sharp turn, I grasped frantically for the seatbelt. He was leaning on the gas with frightening aggression, but I guessed the situation called for it.
Fallen King (Court of the Sea Fae Trilogy Book 2) Page 3