by Lily Archer
He watches me swallow it down, then holds his hand out for the empty glass. When I reach out to give it to him, he stills, his eyes narrowing. Ferocious. That’s the only word for the look on his face. I clutch the fur and scoot away from him.
With fluid fury he reaches to the table behind him and draws an enormous silver sword.
A choked sound catches in my throat as he raises it. I’m going to die.
“Please, don’t.” It’s the only words I can get out as he lunges toward me.
6
Leander
Dashing across the bed, I put myself between my mate and the threat. The faint shadow darts to the left as I swing hard enough to cut down any foe, but it’s too fast.
My mate whimpers, and her fear makes rage bubble through my veins. I will slay anything that dares to hurt her.
The shadow oozes along the wall toward the window. Not a chance. I rear back and thrust the blade into the seemingly empty space near the windowsill. A low grunt sounds, and the intruder’s glamour fades as he slumps to the floor, his blade clattering on the stones.
Taylor gasps as the male comes into view, one hand gripping the wound in his stomach as he stares up at me with reptilian eyes.
“Let me guess, the king beyond the mountain sent you?” I note the twisted tree brand on the lesser fae’s throat.
“He will rule.” His eyes flicker to Taylor, and he tastes the air with his tongue. “The prophecy is already coming true.”
“What prophecy?” I press the tip of my sword to the mark on his throat.
Blood oozes between his scaled fingers. “You will burn, false king.”
“Not today.” I raise my sword.
His eyes return to my mate. “He is waiting.” The words are a threat.
Fury pulses through me, and a phantom wind rustles the curtains. “Don’t look at her.”
“Waiting.” He gurgles blood, his slitted eyes never blinking.
I should keep him for questioning, turn him over to Gareth so we can both go to work on him. But the way he’s looking at Taylor … I can’t let him live another second. With a hard swing, I separate his head from his neck.
Her scream cuts through the heart of me, ripping and tearing like a flaming blade. I rush to her and pull her into my arms. She struggles against me, her hands in fists as she tries to beat my chest with ineffectual blows. It would be adorable if I didn’t know she was terrified.
“Calm down, little one.” I keep my back to the blood spreading across the white stone floor. She doesn’t need to see it.
She eventually stops struggling. But she starts crying, her tears like iron nails in my head.
I sit on the edge of the bed and rock her in my arms. Her sobs wrack her body, and she says something in the changeling language I can’t understand.
“I will protect you with my life.” I kiss the crown of her head, her light brown hair beautiful in the too-bright sun. “Nothing will harm you as long as I walk this world, and I will take my love for you to the glowing lands of the ancestors if my time is cut short. I will wait for you there. Just as I have waited for you here.”
She sniffles, her tears wetting my tunic and says something. I can only figure out a few words: “language” and “beautiful.”
I have so many questions for her. Chief among them is why she doesn’t speak the fae language. As a changeling slave—my ire rises at the thought of my mate being enslaved, but I push it down—she should speak perfect fae. It’s required in the summer realm.
These summer realm fae with all their finery and manners can’t hide the brutality with which they treat their servants. The bruises on Taylor’s forehead and the cut on her lip are my next questions. I want to flay the one who harmed her, no matter if it means war with the summer court.
She pulls back and looks me in the eye—her strange blue ones just as fascinating as when I first saw her. Changelings are rare in the winter realm. They often can’t survive the brutal landscape. But even though I’ve seen plenty of changelings over my centuries, I’ve never seen one with such sparkling blue eyes.
When she wriggles in my lap a bit more, her ass grazes my erection, and she makes a small squeak noise and tries to scramble off me.
“No, my mate.” I hold her in place. “I will not take you until you are ready, but you must know what you do to me.” I graze her little rounded ear. “And I can scent that it isn’t entirely unwelcome.” I’ve wanted to bury my face between her thighs for every second I’ve had her alone—and some when I haven’t. Her scent heightens like the color in her cheeks, and I know if I reached between her creamy thighs, I’d find her wet for me. My cock pulses at the thought.
She wriggles again. If I don’t let her go, she’ll push me over the edge. The need to claim her as mine builds with each moment I spend in her presence. She is a gift. The first mate the ancestors have granted since the defeat of the old king. And she’s mine.
I nuzzle against her ear a bit more and enjoy the slight shiver that runs through her body. Not fear. Her scent tells me that little tremor came from desire. But she’s also unsure about me. She doesn’t feel the bond. Not yet. Perhaps because she is a changeling.
She leans away and shakes her head. “Leander.”
My name on her lips is an answered prayer. “Say it again.”
She cocks her head to the side, one eyebrow slightly arched.
“Leander. Say it again.” I gesture toward her.
“Leander?”
“Yes.” I stroke her hair.
She swats my hand away, and I let her stand. I’ve placed a cloaking spell over the assassin’s body, but she seems to have forgotten about him. Instead, she keeps glancing at me and twisting her tiny hands together. My mate is small, fragile. I will feed her the richest meats and fruits until she is hardy enough for the winter realm. Not that I will ever let her feel the bite of the snow on her fair skin or the cut of the mountain wind against her. She is far too precious.
Noise in the hallway has me standing and pulling her behind my back.
“You will let me pass!” The haughty voice belongs to Lord Tyrios.
“Not happening.” Gareth’s tone is lethal. He’s had enough of the summer realm. I don’t blame him. In all of Arin, it’s my least favorite.
Small hands grip the back of my shirt. I turn to look at Taylor, and she’s pale, her body quaking. I hate the scent of her fear. Her gaze is fixed on the door as Lord Tyrios demands entry and is again denied.
She starts shaking her head, hurried words falling from her lips. Her eyes are turned up to mine, beseeching me as her tears well.
“Taylor is my servant. You can’t keep her from me!” Tyrios complains.
I stroke my thumb across her soft cheek, wiping away a tear. “He will never touch you again, little one. You are mine. You are safe.” I wrack my brain until I find the changeling word. “Safe,” I take her hand and press it to my chest. “Safe.”
Tears still sparkle in her beautiful eyes, but she gives me the slightest nod. It’s all I need.
I pull her behind me and open the door. “She is mine.”
Tyrios holds up an aged piece of parchment. “This document shows my ownership. She is mine. I inherited her from my former wife.” He shakes the paper, as if it will matter. “Use her for your needs. But return her to me when you’re finished with her.”
His implication sends shards of ice floating through my veins. Is this how they “use” their changelings in the summer realm?
Gareth’s hand rests on the hilt of his sword. He’d like nothing better than to hew this fool in half. I’m inclined to agree with him, but killing this idiot would destroy any chance we have at enlisting the queen’s help to solve the disappearances. Sometimes, like now, I wish I could go back to the simplicity of open warfare with the summer realm. No diplomatic niceties, just simple bloodshed. But those are the thoughts of a soldier, not a king.
“She is no longer yours.” I cross my arms over my chest and glare do
wn at him. “She belongs to me. Leave here now or your blood will paint these stones.” I gesture to the pale floor.
He sputters and backs up a step. “You can’t threaten me! I’m a noble of the summer realm. Your kind doesn’t belong here. The queen should have never granted you entry into these lands. Unseelie fae are cursed—”
Gareth’s movement is faster than a Red Plains adder. He has the screeching Tyrios by the throat. “You dare speak that word? And in the presence of my king?”
“I speak only the truth.” He pushes the words past Gareth’s palm. “Filthy dark fae. Unseelie.” He spits the forbidden word, the one that used to brand winter realm fae with a black mark that went soul-deep. The distinction of Seelie and Unseelie has long since been abandoned. Good and bad reside in both the fairer fae of the summer rains and the darker fae of the winter winds. Even so, Unseelie eventually became an insult that still stings those from the winter realm.
“Know this, Tyrios.” I step toward him until I can see the beads of sweat on his pale brow. “Taylor is under my protection. You will never lay claim to her again.”
Taylor’s small hands clutch the back of my shirt again, her tremble telegraphing through me. She has nothing to fear, and certainly not from the imbecile before me.
“The queen will hear about this. You have no right to that changeling. I will take this to the high court and have her returned to me before the day is out. And when the queen hears you’ve threatened me, she’ll—”
“Please escort Lord Tyrios to the main hall.” I give him a smile that’s colder than the tip of Sun’s Bane Peak. “If I find you in this wing of the castle again, you will regret it.”
Gareth drags the squawking noble away as I turn to Taylor and hoist her into my arms. Her gaze sticks to the retreating back of Tyrios, worry in her eyes.
“You have nothing to fear from him.” I sit on the bed and keep her in my lap. “He’s nothing. Just the ash from a long-dead fire, gray and cold.”
Her chin trembles as she looks at me, and she says something I can’t understand. But she seems relieved.
She calms slowly, the pinched look on her face almost gone until Gareth storms back through the door.
When she tenses, I press her close to me. I can’t seem to stop touching her.
“Tyrios intends to get her back.” Gareth walks to the dead assassin, though I’d forgotten all about him. “Another?”
“He will be sorely disappointed.” I growl and stroke my hand down Taylor’s back. “And yes, another.”
“Get any information from him?” Gareth hunches to his knees and inspects the brand on the fae’s neck.
“He threatened to harm my mate.” I shrug.
“So that’s a no.” Gareth nods and rises again. “It’s not safe here. The summer realm allows all manner of interlopers to infiltrate their stronghold.” He scratches his chin. “I’m beginning to suspect they want the assassins to get to you.”
“Why would the queen want me dead? I’m the only thing preventing another war between the realms.”
“Who knows.” He shakes his head. “But one thing is certain, we have to leave. Now. Lord Tyrios isn’t letting her go. I have enough understanding of their laws to know that his claim on her—if confirmed by that document he held—is absolute. He can—”
“I will never give her up.” The mating bond wraps around my heart like an iron thread, each heartbeat drawing it tighter.
“Of course not.” Gareth glances at her.
Even though I trust him with my life, I have the impulse to hide her, to keep her all to myself and away from any other males.
“I would sooner swear fealty to the summer realm than let the first winter realm mate in a century slip through our fingers. And your mate, at that.” His lips quirk into a smile. “You’ve always been a lucky bastard.”
Taylor points at the door and says something, the last word turning up in question.
Gareth responds in the changeling language. He speaks it far better than I do. I try to tamp down my jealousy that he’s able to converse with her while I can’t. It isn’t easy. I’m desperate for any word from her lips.
When they finish talking, I raise my eyebrows at him.
“She wants to know where she is.” His forehead wrinkles as he looks at her with open curiosity. “She says she’s not from here. She’s from the changeling world and just got here today.”
“That’s not possible.” I shake my head. “Exchanges aren’t allowed when changelings are this old.” The fae have few universal tenets, but that is one of them. No fae can be exchanged for a human once the human reaches maturity. Too many questions would arise, and it would violate the ages-old treaty with the humans.
“I know. She said she woke up in the prison—”
“My mate in a prison?” My fangs lengthen, but I’m careful to close my mouth. If she truly is new to the fae world, she must be terrified. Fangs won’t help. They retract slowly.
“She met another changeling there who helped her get her bearings. But otherwise, she has no idea what’s going on.”
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “Does she know I’m her mate?”
Gareth darts his gaze away from mine. “She didn’t say.”
I force myself to stay calm, to ignore the sting. She may not know it yet, but she will when I claim her. “Who hit her?” I smooth my palm along her hairline where a dark bruise has risen.
Gareth asks her in her language.
She presses her fingers to her forehead and speaks to him, then touches her lip.
Gareth’s face turns into a glower. “She hit her head by accident. But Tyrios split her lip.”
Tyrios. And I’d just let him get away. I’ll have his head for daring to harm my mate.
She whimpers. I realize my grip has tightened too much.
“I’m sorry little one.” I press my lips to her forehead. Just that bit of contact sends a buzz through me that ends in my cock. The need to take her makes me dizzy.
“Two choices. Stay here and fight Tyrios, which would endanger the agreement with the queen. Or take your mate and flee. That option may leave a sour taste in the queen’s mouth, but at least you won’t have spilled one of her noble’s blood.”
“Tyrios will die by my hand.” My words are a promise, one that will never be broken.
“I have no problem with that. But now is not the time.” Gareth jerks his chin toward Taylor. “Getting her safely to the winter realm is the most important thing.” His eyes light, as if hope set off a spark inside them. “A royal mate. Do you know what this could mean for the winter realm? For our future? Maybe this is the end of the curse for all of us.”
I wasn’t the only one who had wished for his mate during the dark years of the war and the ones that came after. Gareth is right. Tyrios can wait. I will strike, but it doesn’t have to be now. My need to protect Taylor overwhelms even my desire for vengeance.
I peer at her—at my future—and almost burst with pride. She is mine, and I would lay down my life to keep her safe. Once we are surrounded by snow and ice, wind and cold—the chilled heart of the winter realm—I will breathe easier. “We leave at nightfall.”
7
Taylor
Being cradled in the arms of the huge warrior should be terrifying. Instead, I’m oddly comforted. His scent of crisp winter wind and warm fires calms the worry that eats away at me. But I’m still on edge and trying to figure out how to get back to where I belong.
This strange place doesn’t make sense to me—not the people, the weather, or the language. At least the other massive brute speaks English, though he hasn’t given me much comfort.
“We’re leaving tonight,” the other one—Gareth is his name—says.
“Leaving? But how can I get back if we leave?” I shake my head. “I can’t go. What if the only way back is here somewhere?”
Gareth ignores my questions and kneels in front of me.
Leander’s grip tightens for a secon
d, then relaxes.
Gareth holds my gaze and speaks in the fae tongue, his tone lilting, the words almost a song as he stares up at me. When the near-song comes to a close, he lays his sword on the floor in front of Leander and me.
“What’s going on?” I’m almost at eye level with the scarred fae, though he doesn’t scare me. His eyes are warm, far warmer than Tyrios’s or even the royal-looking woman’s who could speak to me without saying a word.
“I have sworn my allegiance to you as my future queen.”
“As your what?” I shake my head and push away from Leander’s arms. He doesn’t let me go far.
“More will become clear in time.” Gareth bows his head. “It’s customary for the queen of the winter realm to respond to the Winter’s Oath with the phrase ‘bladanon thronin.’ It means ‘your pledge is honored’ roughly.”
“I’m not your queen. I don’t belong to Tyrios or anyone else. I don’t belong here. I just want to go home.” I finally manage to scoot away from Leander’s grip, though I realize it’s only because he allows it. He’s twice my size and made of pure muscle.
“I cannot rise unless you say the words or strike the head from my body.” Gareth lowers his dark eyes to the floor.
“What?” My voice takes on an edge of panic. What is he talking about? If things didn’t make sense before, now they were utterly bananas. Me? A queen? I’m a college student with Bs in literature and history and straight As in my science classes, a love of Friends reruns, and a penchant for eating an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s in one go. I’m not a queen. I don’t even feel like an adult half the time. Hell, I can’t even drink legally for another month!
“I’m sorry, my lady, but we are in grave danger here. We must leave for the winter realm. I have sworn to protect you with my life. If you deem me unworthy, and my pledge dishonorable, it is tradition for you to end me. And I would prefer death to living a life of shame.”