by Nesa Miller
“Aye,” he said. “Well, onward for us.”
She shivered. “It was so nice in Nunnehi, I’d forgotten how cold and bleak it was here. If we shimmer, we should get to Laugharne in time for an evening cuppa. Shall we scheme through the night by a warm, cozy fire?” Etain held out her hand.
“Sounds a plan, milady.”
Hand in hand, the two disappeared in a blue shimmer.
Alatariel raced up the stairs at the howl echoing through the hallways. A violent tremor rocked through the palace, knocking her to her knees. The Shalifi, Trident, met her at the top of the stairs. “My Queen. I fear he has awakened in a foul temper and destroyed the shield.”
“Is anyone hurt?” she asked, breathless.
“Not yet. He overpowered a circle of thirteen, Your Grace. It is unheard of.”
“Trust our High Lord to traverse new territory. It’s obvious we no longer know the full extent of his powers.” Nearer to the door, she heard the sounds of a room in total chaos. “He’s reunited with his darkness and is now a true High Lord of Kaos. He’s like no other before him.”
“Excuse me for saying this, Your Grace, but the laws of magic are specific. White magic is tied to the laws of light, while black magic is tied to the laws of darkness. If we can determine to which he is now aligned, we can neutralize-”
“Kaos is not bound by such limitations. It has no equal, Trident. Dar has no equal.”
“What of his wife, the High Lady of Kaos? It is said he has shared his blood with her. Surely her strength is equal-”
“She has left this realm. I’m sure it’s the reason for his anger.” She reached for the handle. “I underestimated the bond-”
The door burst from its hinges and threw her back into the Shalifi, throwing them both across the hall. Commander Crom came running from farther up the hallway. “Your Grace! Shalifi!”
He helped a stunned Alatariel to her feet, and they both assisted the battered Trident who took the brunt of the impact against the wall, acting as a cushion for his queen. “Commander Crom, thank you,” she said as she straightened her gown, hoping she could get her heart to slow down before facing Dar. “Trident, how are you?”
He leaned heavily against the wall. “I will be fine, Your Grace.”
“Once we’re done here, you get to Chelri.” She turned to Crom. “We must get the High Lord settled before he brings down the entire tree.”
The Shalifi stepped in front of her. “He has destroyed the room. We must ensure your safety, Alatariel. I beg you, please allow the wizards to enter first.”
The wizards formed a living wall between Dar and their queen, alert to the High Lord’s movements. Alatariel gasped at the enormity of the destruction. Dar had unleashed total chaos, ripping apart pillows, sheets, and mattress, and pulverized the bed and side table. Books had been ripped from the bookshelves, their torn pages still fluttering to the floor.
She pointed to ribbons of bluish sunlight filtering into the dark room. “How did that happen?”
“The containment spell held during his first attempt, but when he released a bolt of sheer force, it ripped through the shield, raining sparks over everyone,” the Shalifi explained.
“Where is she?” Dar’s voice thundered.
The wizards answered with a singsong spell. Minute crystals formed at Dar’s feet, blossoming out, quickly creeping up each leg. Their journey sounded like cracking ice in the first thaws of spring. The veins in Dar’s neck bulged as he shattered the spell with a simple hand gesture, sending three wizards flying backward, slamming them into the walls.
“I will not be caged like an animal. Did you honestly think your puny powers could hold me?”
“Stop this madness, Dar,” Alatariel commanded from behind the wizards. “This is not the conduct one would expect from a High Lord. You will abide by our rules while you are here.”
Cold eyes bored into hers. “This is what happens when a High Lord has been betrayed. Have you any idea how it feels to be made a cuckold by one you trusted with your life?”
Alatariel’s anger flashed in return. “Your actions have made you a cuckold, not Etain. You damn well know she would not betray you. Look past the lies left behind by your jealous brother.”
Dar paced back and forth across the room. “What makes you think this has anything to do with Midir?”
Too late, she realized her mistake. However, she bravely stepped out from behind her wall of wizards. “I had a long conversation with your wife.”
“That must have been interesting.” He turned his back. “She has admitted her guilt by slinking away without as much as a goodbye.”
“Yes, she has gone, but not for the reasons you think.”
He spun around, grabbed a handful of her red hair, and pulled back hard, exposing her long neck to an extended talon. Alatariel gasped, her eyes rolling at the unexpected attack. “Do not cover for that whore. Did she run to her dead lover’s realm?”
Commander Crom was the first to reach for his blade. “Release her, High Lord,” he said from outside the circle, “or your exit from this realm will not be the one you planned.”
A concerted shreen of metal filled the room as seasoned warriors followed Crom’s lead, encircling their queen and her assailant. The wizards filled the gaps between the Black Blades, ready to deliver a magical assault should the swords aimed at the High Lord not persuade him to release their leader.
Dar’s glare accosted each one as he spoke. “You are no match for me or the power I call upon. I do not wish to harm any of you, but if you stand in my way, I will lay waste to all.”
“High Lord, your mind is not yet healed. Let us help you,” Trident said.
Alatariel raised a hand to stay their swords. A vision of the dead wizard flashed through her mind, but she pushed it away. She knew Dar better than anyone in the room and did not believe he would cause her irreparable harm. His anger was obvious, but she sensed something else that could prove far more dangerous…an irrational fear.
“Dar, these Blades are of your making, trained by your standards. A wizard has already died by your hand, and now you threaten their queen. You know they will not allow you to pass, no matter what it takes.” From the hallway came the sounds of an army on the march. In the next moment, the Queen’s Royal Guard filed in, sealing off the room. “Are their lives worth that of a whore?”
He bared his teeth, pressing the talon against her skin. She flinched, feeling its sharp edge cut into her flesh. Blood trailed from her throat down her chest.
“My Lady!” Crom shouted.
“If you believe she’s betrayed you…” Alatariel turned her head as far the talon would allow, looking at Dar from the corner of her eye, “take off the ring. Destroy it. Be done with her.”
Dar considered the finger that bore the testament of their union, turning the ring gently with his thumb. His thoughts went to another woman in another time, one who proved too weak to fight off Midir’s advances. In the end, Midir had betrayed her, as well. The mark he and Etain shared warmed his chest as it whispered to his heart. The protective shield he had put up because of his evil brother, who continued to lie and scheme from beyond the grave, started to crack. Dar glimpsed the happiness and newfound trust of the last few days. He clung to the cracks for dear life, willing them to tear apart, and wanting, more than ever, to believe the good he desired, not the evil he had seen. He retracted the talon and pushed the queen away.
“I can’t do that.”
She turned, facing him. “Why keep a ring given to you by a whore? What do you owe her that warrants the lie on your finger?” He had no answers. “Could it be your heart tells you differently?”
In another search of his mind, he realized something was missing. “What have you done, Alatariel?”
“I’m merely trying to get it through your thick head that your wife is loyal to you.”
Trident reached between the Blades and pulled the queen to safety, the warriors tightening the circle around
the High Lord.
Dar continued to finger the ring. “I’m not talking about Etain.”
“Oh,” she said, taken aback. “Well…” She lowered her eyes, then lifted them to his and squared her shoulders. “We saved you from his lies.”
“We?” he asked, a dangerous glint in his eye.
“Etain and myself… We rid you of his poison,” she said. “Dark remnants of Midir were twisting your mind.”
He drew in a slow breath. “It was not your place,” he reprimanded, afraid of how many of his brother’s memories had been destroyed. “Did you, at any time, consider the consequences?”
“Our main concern was to destroy his hold on you. He wanted to tear you apart, to ensure you were as unhappy as he. We did it to help you move on and live a happy life with Etain.”
“You have erased memories I needed to come to terms with the blood he shed. A part of me committed those evil deeds. We are both to blame.”
“Your way of coping would have been the death of your loving wife.” He shot a scathing glare at the straightforward woman` “You can’t change the past, Dar. You had nothing to do with how he lived his life. The moment the priests separated you, he was his own person. Do you give him credit for the good you’ve done?” She pushed her way through the wall of Blades and forced him to look at her. “You have enough of your own guilt. Don’t take on his, as well.”
Dar turned from her damning stare and looked at the split in the wall. Through the opening, he caught the flight of morning songbirds, twittering among the branches of the old tree. A slight breeze entered the room, blowing the blond mane from his face. Inexplicably, his thoughts turned to the day he found Etain at Midir’s, her sword in hand.
“You say you spoke with her. Did she tell you of the day she nearly took my life?”
“We spoke of many things, but I believe she mentioned it.” Quietly, she motioned the wizards and the Blades to leave them alone.
“He cannot be trusted, Your Grace,” said Crom, a wary eye on the High Lord.
Dar looked at the man. “She will not be harmed, Commander. You have my word.”
“Your word means nothing today.” Crom narrowed his eyes. “You have my word that you will not walk out of this realm should she come to any further harm, whether it be by your hand or another’s.” Dar tilted his head in acknowledgment.
Alatariel stepped in between the men. “Commander Crom, despite all that has transpired here, he remains our High Lord. His word will be respected.” Her features softened. “A few moments, please.” Crom cast a warning glance at the man standing behind his queen. She turned to address her men-at-arms. “Not one word of this leaves this room.”
Crom stepped back as the Royal Guard, the Black Blades, and the wizards retreated to the hallway. Before he joined the others, Trident offered her a cloth for the wound on her neck. She pressed it to her skin and waved him out.
Once they were alone, Dar submitted to his memories, reliving the day he appeared at Midir’s castle and came face to face with a warrior Etain. “In true Midir fashion, he tried to steal my life again. I have no idea what happened between them.” He gazed through the cracks in the walls. “Her actions puzzled me, but then I realized she didn’t recognize me. When I noticed the green in her eyes, I knew she was under the influence of his magic.” Arms over his chest, he shook his head. “My lady, left alone with that monster…subjected to I’ll never know what.”
“You could ask her.”
“I could…” He looked at her, “but she wouldn’t tell me.”
“Do you not trust her?”
“It has nothing to do with trust. She would hold back the worst to keep from hurting me.”
“Doesn’t sound like a woman bent on betrayal to me.”
Dar had no response, returning his gaze to the openings in the wall. A long silence separated him from this place. In time, he sighed and crossed the bridge laden with memories. “Once Nim’Na’Sharr was in her hands, the valiant sword reclaimed her mistress. A medallion served as a power boost in case the sword was not enough, but Nim didn’t need it.” He suddenly turned. “Would you have a new room prepared? I promise to take better care of it.”
“I have every faith.” She walked to the doorway and instructed a Blade to have the room next door prepared for the High Lord. Before she dismissed her men-at-arms, she reminded them that, if they wished to keep their posts, gossip was for old women, not a productive pastime for honorable men.
“Your Grace, with all due respect, do you think it wise?” Crom asked.
“He’s on the road to recovery.”
“High Lord or not, he must answer for his actions today,” Trident said.
“So true, milady,” Crom echoed.
“Gentlemen, please. We can discuss this later.” Trident exchanged a glance with Crom, bowed to his queen, and left.
Crom, not so easily convinced, eyed the destroyed doorway. “It is against my better judgment, Alatariel. However, I trust your instincts.” He turned to follow Trident, but stopped and shot a determined look at Dar. “I will be watching and will not hesitate should it come to it.”
Dar met the queen at the doorway. “Thank you, Alatariel. I would do the same were I in their position.” He took her hands in his. “My deepest apologies for today.” The expression on his face mirrored the pain in his heart. “I know I cannot make amends for the life I have taken or for the troubles I have brought to this beautiful city, but I will find a way.”
“Were it not for Midir, none of this would have happened. Don’t worry about Shalen’s family. They will be taken care of.”
“I would request the opportunity to speak with them, if I may.”
She patted his hand. “Let’s leave it for now.”
He nodded. “If it’s not too much to ask, may I be left in peace to compose myself?”
“Take as long as you need, Dar.”
The time spent in the Highlands gave Freeblood a sense of relief. Although saddened by the loss of his brother, and abandonment by his human family, thanks to his asshole father, his outlook on his future remained positive. He was ready to get back to Faux, and even Dar and Etain.
Approaching Sólskin manor, he slowed his pace, then stopped to listen, thinking it couldn’t possibly be what he thought. I wasn’t gone long enough. He took a few more steps. Have Dar and Etain come home? It was possible, but something told him this wasn’t their brand of music. This was definitely Faux.
He walked through the gates into the courtyard, small white pebbles crunching beneath his neon Converse. With each step toward the front doors, the music grew louder. Just as he reached the stoop, the doors flew open. A pair of blondes dressed in the skimpiest red plaid skirts he’d ever seen, their buxom chests covered with what he was sure were men’s handkerchiefs in another life, and thigh-high boots stared at him. Seeing the surprised expression on his face, the two laughed and grabbed him by each arm.
“Oh, my gawd. Aren’t you just the cutest thing?” the one on the right said, her green eyes glittering.
“We’ve been waiting for you, sugar,” said the one on the left. “We were on our way out, but now that you’re here...” She took him in with eyes that matched the other blonde, making him feel naked. “I think we’ll stay a while.” Each girl linked an arm through Freeblood’s and escorted him down the hallway.
The throne room was the place from where the ear-splitting music rumbled. In the far corner was a live band. Death metal was the current choice, but the singer was an ear wrencher. Freeblood had heard a lot better from the garage bands back home. People littered the room. Dancing, lounging, drinking, talking, laughing, and… He did a double take.
Should they be doing that in public? Not a prude by any standard, he felt his face go red and turned away.
Through it all, a familiar laugh caught his ear. He ignored whatever the blonde bimbos were chattering about and scanned the room. She was here somewhere. The laugh came again…from above. Extricating himsel
f from the twins, his gaze drifted up the steps of Dar’s throne. There sat his horny little demon. His jaw clenched as he saw her deep in conversation with some lowlife who hovered over her like a vulture waiting to pounce. The twins tried to engage him once again, but seeing the death glare in his eyes, decided it was time to go.
He turned his gaze to the woman lazing upon the throne. His stomach churned, feeling betrayed. She should’ve known he was back by the burn in her blood, but either she chose to ignore it or was too distracted. Something else made his breath catch in his throat.
Maybe she just doesn’t care.
At that moment, Faux turned her sparkling black-eyed gaze upon him. He caught the slight change in her and felt the heat rise in his blood. That special heat only she could induce. Freeblood relaxed and gave her a lazy grin. Was that not what had attracted him in the first place? The audacious games she loved to play, mesmerizing people with her hypnotic tail, taking them hostage with those bottomless black pools of pure sex…until she would grow bored and squash them with a single comment. His stomach no longer churned, and his heart steadied into the rhythm of a primal drum. Let her play her games. He was a fierce competitor and always played to win. He ventured up the steps.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back.” Faux leaned back in the oversized chair. “How is the little family?”
“Hmph,” was all he was willing to say, afraid anything more would end his hard-won peace.
“Does that mean you're here to stay?”
He gestured to the crowd. “Is this what I have to look forward to?”
A smirk lifted the corners of her delicious red mouth. “I get bored when left alone for too long.”
Freeblood grunted a laugh. It had only been a few hours. “We should have a discussion about what that means so I’m clued in.”
The vulture cleared his throat, but a unified glare from the couple made him rethink it. Spinning around, he graciously descended the grand steps, head held high, acting as though it had been his plan all along.