by Sophie Oak
“Please, Your Highness,” one of them begged. The other two glanced back at the door as though the very fact that Lach had said the name might conjure them up.
Lach shook his head. “I can’t bring them down on our heads by saying their name. They’re already here, so why don’t we act like we’re not scared of the buggers.” He leaned over to one of the men, a sidhe from the village outside the palace. Madden was the king’s liaison to the villagers. “Do you know if they came from the caves?”
There had been a nest of sluagh living in the caves by the beach for as long as anyone could remember. They, along with the Planeswalker demons, could slip on and off the planes as they pleased, though none had figured out how. It was a deeply held secret. To discover it, one had to become a sluagh and no one came back from that. Lach glanced down at the box at his feet. It was filled with crap. Trinkets from his travels. A cheap broach he’d picked up, several combs, a set of cards from the Vampire plane. It was a load of junk he’d picked up and didn’t need, but it would be enticing to the sluagh, who lived for such oddities. He’d meant to offer it to his father, but he’d been told to take his seat.
He supposed no one had need for his negotiation skills.
“I hear they’re from the Seelie plane,” Madden explained. He threaded his fingers together, glancing back at the door. “They have news.”
Shim leaned in. “Why would they help? Sluagh don’t take sides.”
No. Sluagh took people. They took lives and slaves. They took rotted corpses when they wanted a meal. They did not take sides.
A sudden chill fell across the room like a wave slowly crashing on the shore.
The Host was close. Lach could feel it. A spark of power shimmered through him. Yes, the dead were coming. It was an odd thing, but he felt more comfortable, his body relaxing as though he’d finally found his place. He leaned back, his eyes focused on the door.
Madden shivered. “I don’t like this. Perhaps the king should bar the door.”
Lach felt a smile on his face. Oh, but he was suddenly hungry. “It wouldn’t work. They have no need of doors.”
They entered from every wall, their forms gliding through rock and wood as though neither existed. A hundred sluagh it seemed formed from near nothingness. Pale and wraithlike, their bodies showed the way each had died. Wounds on a sluagh were like jewels to a high-born lady, an expression of beauty. Even to the Unseelie, who understood the horrors of the planes, sluagh were monstrous.
And yet, Lach saw an odd beauty to them.
“We seek the king.” They spoke as one, their voices sending a fresh wave of chilled air through the hall.
His father stood, along with Beck and Cian Finn. They each nodded to the group of sluagh, not an ounce of fear showing.
“The Kings of the Seelie Fae welcome you.”
His father nodded as well. “As does the King of the Unseelie.”
A single sluagh floated to the front of the crowd that had now moved, coalescing into a single mob. The sluagh had obviously been a sidhe at one time, the long lines of his body a dead giveaway. The flesh at his throat was mottled and gnarled, signs of the rope that he had hanged from.
“The sluagh are grateful that such high-born men would stoop to speak with us. King Beckett and King Cian, you might be the rightful owners of the Seelie throne, but you do not sit upon it. King Fergus, you rule the Unseelie, but we have no use for you.” His head whipped around, eyes locking firmly on Lachlan. Every one of the sluagh turned in one motion, a great flock of wicked birds of prey. “We seek the King of the Dead.”
Duffy tugged at his tunic. “Damn me, Lach. I think they’re talking about you. Should I get me axe?”
“Hush, Duffy.” For once Shim sounded serious.
“What are you talking about?” His father’s voice boomed through the hall. “Leave my son alone. He isn’t well. Guards, take the princes out.”
Lach stood. He wasn’t about to be hauled out like an idiot child who didn’t know his place. He did know where he belonged. He hated it, but the dead called to him. He turned his eyes on the guards coming in. “Touch me and I’ll kill you. Once you’re dead, I’ll take control of your corpse and turn you on everyone you love. Do you understand?”
“Prince Lachlan, we must do as your father requests. He is king.”
The sluagh leader was suddenly right in his ear, a cold whisper across his flesh. “He is not the king of us, Your Highness, and you know this to be true. Your power is not whole yet without your bondmate at your side. Take power from us. We give it willingly. Show them. Show them all.”
He looked down at Shim, seeking sound counsel, but his brother’s face had turned cold and hard. “I feel it, too, brother, though it is not my power to take. Take it. Show them. ’Tis the only way to prove it.”
Ice edged through him, the sluagh pushing death power his way. He could command this. This was no flare of uncontrolled talent. This was raw power, and he was the master. He reached out to call the dead to him.
A loud wail went up. A grunting and then a scream as the boar that had been roasted and laid out on the table for feasting struggled to its legs. A headless fowl, plucked and covered in sauce, unfurled grotesque wings and tried to fly. The group of sluagh shimmered, their bodies humming with power.
“Enough!” His father roared through the hall. “Enough, son.”
Lach shut the power off with a wink and a great deal of regret. He could have gone further. He’d felt them all in that moment. He’d felt all the dead things of the palace rising again. He’d felt the animals lying dead in the fields and around the palace courtyard, small and large. He sensed the goblins who had died in a recent sickness. He’d felt the ogre they’d killed but days ago stir. He’d felt them all and realized he could have an army.
And then he’d felt a softer stirring and a gentle whisper.
No, Lachlan. Let the dead rest, son.
His mother. He’d reached out and caught his mother asleep forever in her tomb.
Lach fell back into his seat, his hands shaking with fear. Fear of what he could become.
The sluagh smiled, a ghastly thing. “You begin to see, Your Highness.”
His father was suddenly at his side. “What have you done to my son?”
Beck Finn was there, too, studying him. “How has your power manifested without the bond? We were told you refused to bond.”
“We bonded long ago, but our mate is trapped on the Seelie plane.” Shim stared at the Seelie king, waiting to be laughed at.
“Fuck me, they’re powerful,” Cian Finn said, his eyes wide. “They couldn’t have taken on the full bond, yet they’re able to do all of this.” He frowned. “Could you leave supper alone next time? I don’t think I can eat that thing now.”
Lach had to smile a bit. “I’ll try.”
Beck got to one knee. “They want to deal with you, Prince Lachlan. Can you handle them?”
“Yes. I can handle them. I know them well.” He’d always been fascinated by the sluagh. “Duffy, grab the box, please.”
The gnome hopped down and retrieved the box filled with trinkets. Gifts for the unshriven dead.
“Go on then.” Lach nodded to the sluagh leader.
Duffy flushed, standing there with the box in his small hands. “You want me to give it to him?”
“If you’re scared, I’ll do it.” It was said with a harsh edge. Duffy wanted to be a warrior. A warrior should be able to handle the simple passing of a box.
The gnome’s face firmed into a stubborn pout. “I ain’t scared of nothing, Lach.”
He marched to the sluagh and held up his box. “Gifts from the princes.”
A wicked smile crossed the sluagh’s face as he opened the box. “Treasures. Come and take your part.”
The group descended like a pack feasting on a kill. There was shuffling and the pressing of shade to shade, but finally they broke up, each holding some small piece in their hands. And one by one they faded away until o
nly the leader remained.
“You are wise, King of the Dead.”
Lach shrugged. It had been a good bet he could thin the herd with a simple gift. “I listen to my people.”
“And they will listen to you.” The sluagh cocked his head, taking in Cian Finn. “I don’t like that one. Send him away.”
Cian. The Green Man. Light to his darkness.
“No.” Lach wouldn’t let a sluagh control this. If he was the King of the Dead, then he was king. He could feel his brother’s support. “The king stays. Now, sluagh, I’ve given you your gifts. I’ve allowed you to feel my power. Tell me your secrets. It’s why you’ve come.”
If there was one thing the sluagh loved more than small trinkets, it was secrets. They listened in, hiding always, to hear the great secrets of the planes, hoarding them like diamonds until the time was right to trade. And then they would whisper, a little touch here or there, sending one country into war and suggesting another go down a path that led to famine. Both would benefit the sluagh.
Lach knew he was walking along the razor’s edge.
“Torin is gathering power.” The sluagh waited.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Lach stood again, Shim at his side, moving as one. “Only today the Seelie kings have come with this news. This is nothing I can use. Be gone.”
He could feel the sluagh’s shock. “I have more, Your Highness.”
“Then you should tell me more or I will cast you from my kingdom.”
The sluagh frowned. “Fine. We have heard the plans of Torin and his hags. They mean to kill all the non-sidhe on their plane and then they will move on to this one. They will attempt to control the Vampire Council with fresh consorts, but each one will be spelled to turn on his or her master when the time is right.”
Beck Finn went white. “He’s promised a hundred consorts to the royals. He’ll bring down the whole plane.”
Dante Dellacourt stepped in. “The economic ramifications alone would destabilize us. You’re talking about the most powerful vampires on the plane. They control everything. And I doubt they’ll believe a damn thing I say. I became an outlaw the minute I chose to leave with Beck and Cian. Perhaps Julian could persuade them.”
His cousin looked thoughtful. “I can try, but my influence is small compared to how hungry the royals are for proper consorts. We age without consort blood. Look at Lach and Shim. Look at me. I’m fifteen years older and yet I look younger than them. This is a royal’s birthright, and for thirteen years, Torin has held us hostage. They won’t want to listen to reason.”
Lach turned back to the sluagh. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
The sluagh sighed, his whole form moving in a lazy wave. “There’s always more, Your Highness.”
A long pause. Bloody sluagh. “We’ll fill your bellies for a month.”
The ogre alone would keep the carrion eaters happy for weeks. Another could be found.
“More, Your Highness.”
There would always be more if he didn’t take a stand. The sluagh would be greedy.
Shim whispered, his hand cupping his mouth. “There’s a reason they’re here, Lach. And it’s not for corpses. They wouldn’t pick a side if it didn’t benefit them. Think on it. Devastating the Vampire plane would be good for the sluagh. The Unseelie falling would bring more than enough corpses to feed their armies. Why are they here, then?”
His brother had a point. Lach’s mind raced with possibilities, but only one made a lick of sense. “Torin’s found a way to kill you, hasn’t he?”
The sluagh frowned. “Torin seeks purity of race, and the Host is an abomination.”
Now he had them. “Tell me more.”
The sluagh sighed, leaned in, and began to speak.
Hours later, Lachlan felt the weight of all the planes on his shoulders. Torin was coming. He wouldn’t stop until the planes bowed to him.
The sluagh left, racing away to the caves where his brethren hid. All around him was quiet. The Seelie kings spoke to each other in whispers, Dante at their side. The rest had an air of shock surrounding them. War was coming.
“Son, you did well.” His father sat beside him, his weathered face a mask of care. There was a long pause, as though he didn’t wish to broach the subject, but knew he must. “How did you do it? How do you raise the dead? Is it a spell?”
Shim’s eyes rolled. “He did it the same way I call forth fire. It’s inside him. It’s the powers we came into thirteen years ago.”
“King Fergus,” Beck interrupted. “I may not know the Unseelie, but grant that my brother and I know what it means to be symbiotic twins. Neither Cian nor I had a whisper of power before we bonded. Not a hint.”
“Yeah, Beck here told everyone it was a myth. He still owes me a thousand gold on that one.”
The Warrior King slapped at the Green Man. “Hush. This is no place for sarcasm. Tell them, Ci.”
Cian became serious. “I would bet the kingdom I don’t have yet that they’ve bonded. They’re what? Thirty? By the time we turned thirty, we were beginning to fade. These boys aren’t close to fading. They’re powerful. What happened to your bondmate?”
Lach took a long breath. “She was trapped on the Seelie plane.”
Beck nodded. It was probably a story he’d heard before. “She must be strong if you can still feel the bond.”
“We’ve never met her, but we’ve dreamed of her since we were children.” Shim watched the Seelie kings.
The Seelie kings turned to each other, a silent conversation happening in their heads. Lach knew because it happened between him and Shim. After a long moment, Beck looked over, his face tense. “How would you bond with a woman you’ve never met?”
“I don’t know what it was like for you two,” Lach admitted. “I only know that since I knew what the word love meant, I loved her. She came to me and Shim every night.”
“In our dreams.” Shim took over. “At first we simply played because we were young. We couldn’t hear her. We just felt. She talked. She talked a lot, but we just felt her presence. It calmed us each night, and we knew she was the one.”
Lach remembered those times. Bronwyn had been a comfort even then. “We could see through her eyes. She’s a strong broadcaster. Sometimes, even during the day, Shim can see her. It’s how we figured out who she was and where she lives. When we were young, we would see and feel her when her emotions were strong. There was a river by her house. Full of fish. She would swim with her brother, her mother watching on. She would strip down to her shift and throw her body in, a wild cry on her lips. She would look up as she floated on the water and wonder where her other brother was.”
Lach was well aware of what he was doing. He was pulling from her memories. He was baiting the Seelie kings. But he had to prove his truth or they could side with his father. Bronwyn had to be saved before the war broke out.
Cian’s body had tensed. “Tell me more about her.”
Shim seemed to understand what Lach was doing. “She’s the loveliest thing in all the planes. Brown hair and brown eyes. A sweet laugh.” He turned to Dante. “You pulled her pigtails and called her a brat.”
Dante’s mouth dropped. “No.”
Lach didn’t wait for further denials. “We bonded with her on the night she died. We felt it. Shim could see it.”
“I saw her run to her mother’s room. She was so scared. I tried to reach out, but she’d taken a knife to her gut.” His hand drifted to his side, where he’d felt the knife sink into their mate. “She thought she was dead, and then you came, Cian. You held her. You told her you loved her. And she died.”
Tears fell from Shim’s eyes. He felt it more deeply because he’d been there with her.
Cian shook his head. “She died. Bron is dead. I couldn’t save her.”
The words slipped easily from Lach’s mouth. “But we could.”
The Seelie kings stopped, their jaws tensing. Their expressions were utterly identical, pained and haunted and b
eneath all of it, a breath of hope.
“I don’t believe it,” Cian said. He finally moved, pacing the floor. He ran a hand through his hair. “I felt it. She was dead. I wouldn’t have left my sister. I couldn’t. I couldn’t have left her.”
“I don’t understand any of this.” His father looked almost as guilty as the Seelies.
“We’ve thought about this a lot. We’ve talked about it, asked some Fae who know about bonding, some vampires who understand consorts. They think Bronwyn is an incredibly strong broadcaster. I know that any bondmate could balance us, but you know that there’s a difference between the bond and that perfect mate. Her mind reached out, even as a child, and she found us. We held to the bond. If Bron is a broadcaster, then Shim is a receptor.”
Beck’s face was a careful blank. “Let’s accept the fact that Bron is alive somehow.”
“She’s alive,” Shim insisted.
“How did you save her?” Dante asked.
Shim shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s all muddled. I remember feeling her die and grabbing on to Lach.”
Lach didn’t like to think about that night. It was a nightmare in his head, a collection of fear and pain. “It was the first time our powers manifested.”
“The night of the fire,” his father whispered, looking at his face.
“Yes. We all almost died that night.” He stared at his father. “We lost her for a long time. That was when we started to fade. We couldn’t be sure she was alive. And yet the bond was there. It was like bonding over that distance broke the connection for a while.”
Shim sighed. “And then one day, I was sleeping and I felt her at the edge of my consciousness. Every night the connection got stronger, and now I can feel her during the day when I concentrate.”
“That’s why you seem to be fading. That’s why you lie around. You’re seeing her.” His father sat back and seemed to have aged twenty years. “Do you think she knows what happened to my Gilly?”
This was a piece of information they had withheld. They had thought about it, but with their father not believing them, it seemed cruel to tell him.
“Gillian’s alive.”