Beauty

by Sophie Oak

  Lach sent a corpse to protect his brother and then another. He would feel infinitely better if he knew Shim had someone to watch his back even if his new guard no longer had a head on his body.

  Lach saw a familiar face holding a small body in his arms. Max Harper was covered in blood, but he looked down at the phooka.

  “I don’t understand,” Max said, looking up at Lach. “He leapt in front of me. Why would this creature do that?”

  The phooka’s eyes were half closed, his blood draining quickly. Lach could sense the creature, who should have lived for centuries, was close to death. His tail twitched slightly, an unconscious move. “Imprinted on you early, you bastard. I’ve been with you most of your life. I was your pet and the hawk who followed you and the horse you complained about but always fed so well. I know you, Max Harper. Hard on the outside and such a soul! It was an honor to share a piece of you.”

  Max stared down. “I didn’t even know.”

  “You didn’t have to.” The phooka looked up at Lach. “And don’t use me, Death Lord. My time is come. Did you know there’s peace in the after? I feel it.”

  The phooka let go, his soul flying wherever souls flew. Lach wasn’t sure, but he’d learned that death wasn’t something to fear. It was simply a power that resided in him and once the war was done, he would find a way to use it in a gentler way.

  But now he used it to save Harper. He commanded one of his soldiers to leap in front of the horse trainer and take the blow meant for him.

  Harper got to his feet, the sword in his hand. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t waste his sacrifice.” The phooka had been an odd creature, a thing that could cause great chaos, but love had sent him on a different path.

  A million thoughts raced through him. Love. Ambition. Protection. Possession. They could all be used for good or bad. Love had nearly cost him his wife, his need to protect her so great he discounted her own soul.

  Love was merely a tool and how a soul chose to use it became the measure of the man. The phooka had chosen wisely, and Lach was determined to learn the lesson.

  He called his army of dead as he ran to his brother. It was a gamble, but she would need everything they had.

  I am ready. Pull them back. Her voice was a sweet whisper through his soul.

  Lach opened himself, giving her everything, heart and soul and life and power. It welled up and surged across the distance between them.

  Shim shook and, in an instant, his brother fell, a limp body on the ground.

  Lach got to his knees and prayed he could save him once more.

  * * * *

  The hags were upset.

  “How is she so strong? She should be hanging like a carcass by now.” They stood back as though assessing whether or not she was a threat.

  She was the least threatening thing in the damn room. As far as she could tell, she was in the dungeon. This seemed to be the hag’s special room. She’d woken up here, bound to the wall. She’d tried to see what was around her. To her left it looked like there were shelves and shelves of herbs and various scary items that they probably used to do bad things. And there was a pot in the center that was already bubbling, already preparing to stew.

  “She’s wrong.”

  Bron had to cover a smile because the hags were so very confused. All through the long night they had tortured her, leaving her a limp, sad little thing. And then the bondmates had answered her call. Over and over they had sent small bursts of energy to her. But more than any amount of life force, what they had truly sent to her was hope.

  Bron held herself up. She could feel her men. They were a soft hum in her soul, buoying her. They were out there now. She’d sensed them the moment they had dropped from the eddy cloud and the battle had begun.

  Yet the hags still focused on her.

  Could they not hear the battle? They didn’t seem to care even if they knew it had begun. They were deep in the dungeon, but Bron could hear it broadcast from another bondmate or perhaps several. Now that she’d decided to listen, she could hear them. She recognized Kaja’s voice, but there was another. A very strong voice sending out love and hope and prayers for something she called kicking serious ass.

  Bron wasn’t sure what that meant, but she was grateful to the bondmate who was sharing her thoughts even if she didn’t know she was doing it. Hers was the strongest of the voices and she was so hopeful. This woman, and Bron could tell she was female, was ready for the fight. She was ready for something she called her happily ever after.

  Bron liked the idea. Happy forever. She just had to reach for it.

  During the hours when she’d reached out to the bondmates in the palace, her mind seemed to have formed some sort of network, pulling them each in and connecting them all. She’d learned some were close to death, others simply waiting for that time and many were being held for high-ranking vampires. They knew something was wrong with them, something had been done to them, but they didn’t know what. They were all afraid.

  And they all wanted to fight.

  He’s coming.

  Maris’s voice was the oddest of all, but she seemed to be playing her part. Her part was to ship the king to her. Bron needed to know where Torin was. She needed to make sure he was close when she brought her power down.

  The hags stared at her, and then the slender one brought her hands up, slamming them toward her, a gray mist rising.

  A jolt of hot pain struck through her system. She shielded, keeping it utterly inside her own body. She didn’t want to frighten the others or cause them pain. Her body was caught in the mist the hags sent out. This mist was gray, unlike the pure black that had engulfed Duffy. Her heart clenched. She knew he was gone. Now that she’d felt the mist, she knew Duffy had died in it and Lach had carried him. There was no other explanation.

  It proved Shim was alive, no matter what he said. Shim still felt and ate and complained about the cold.

  She shook and her insides felt like they would burst, and she held on to those simple thoughts. She heard the hags argue and then another wave hit, the mist filling her whole being. Her limbs shook and her bones ached. She tried to remember every inch of their faces and how they liked to hold her. Shim would snuggle, his body cuddling hers, his legs moving between hers as though he was trying to make them one. And Lach. Lach would surround her, pushing the world out until it was only the two of them. Nothing compared to being between them. When she was cuddled between them, everything was right.

  The fog lifted, and she was left shaken.

  “That’s better.” The hags hadn’t bothered to introduce themselves. There was a wretchedly thin one and the other resembled a glob of rancid pudding with eyes. Bron couldn’t stand to be around either. She’d preferred it when they had hidden their true faces.

  The thin one looked at her critically. “I don’t know. She still looks pretty healthy to me. And we’d better hurry, dear one. Did you feel that eddy cloud?”

  The puddle of goo with eyes replied. “I did, sister. The triad is here along with her husbands. We knew this would happen. We counted on it. They should breach the palace walls, and then Torin will be slaughtered and we’ll have her power. Do you understand what that means? The little idiot doesn’t know how to use it, but I will be able to.”

  Bron kept her face perfectly still. She didn’t need them to know that she was well aware of how to use her power. She intended to use it on them.

  “Are you sure? You thought you would be able to hear them by now.” The emaciated one tapped her foot against the floor, her cold eyes darting around.

  Her sister sneered Bron’s way. A long, taloned hand pointed toward her. “I just need one more soul. Hers. She’s the key, but then we figured that out long ago. Our mistake was in trusting Torin. He was supposed to have caught her and brought her for execution.”

  “Instead the dumb bastard just killed her. I wonder how she came back. I’m sure she was dead.”

  The big hag with cold, dead eyes stalked tow
ard her. She put a hand on her chest, right above Bron’s heart. “All things will be learned when we pry that damn soul out of her body. And then I’ll be the one who binds her husbands, and I’ll be the one with the power.”

  The idea of this odious woman having access to her husbands’ power made Bron sick.

  The slender one frowned. “I don’t see why it has to be you.”

  The hags continued to argue as they raced to get the ingredients for another spell. This one, Bron was sure, would nearly kill her and she didn’t dare open herself. Not yet.

  She would have to be strong. When she opened wide, she would pull their power, and there would be no going back.

  The hags began to walk toward her when the cell door opened and Torin raged in.

  He stopped in front of her, giving her a once-over, his eyes narrowing and his lips thin. A spark of recognition hit him, but he turned from her as though she didn’t deserve a moment’s notice.

  Her uncle was older, his hair gone to silver. He looked nothing like the man who would sit at her father’s side and talk at night. He was wrinkled now, care and guilt obviously taking their toll. But he was still strong. He hauled two guards with him.

  “Take the hags into custody,” Torin announced, his voice ringing out.

  The hags laughed. They stood their ground, staring down the guards. “I don’t think they want to do that, Your Majesty. They might discover they prefer their man parts on the outside of their bodies.”

  The guards hesitated. They were all here.

  I’m ready. She sent the message out to everyone, but especially to her loves.

  And then Maris entered the room. Bron couldn’t believe it. She should have run the minute she’d convinced Torin to find her. Maris should have fled the castle or joined the bondmates. It had been her and Niall’s job to ensure their safety.

  The hags began their threats and Torin his screams for vengeance. He didn’t even look Bron’s way. But Maris did. She moved in close. She still wore her thin, diamond-and-gold crown.

  “Do it,” Maris whispered.

  Bron shook her head. Despite all the chaos Maris had caused, she couldn’t kill her. She’d repented in her way. “I can’t. You know I can’t. Maris, you know what’s going to happen.”

  Maris whispered. “I’ve protected the others with a spell and Niall is with them. Fire won’t touch them. And I always knew this was how I would end. I don’t want to live, Bronwyn. I want to go home, and my home is no longer here. Do it or I will tell them what’s happening. You will lose your chance. You will lose everything.”

  Bron was weak again. So weak. She felt sick, her stomach rolling. She could barely move her fingers. How would she do what she needed to do? Misery swamped her. She had been so close, but she was going to fail. She was going to let them all down. Her people. Her brothers. Her loves. Herself.

  Her vision was starting to fade.

  A cool wind buoyed her and a familiar voice filled her head. “Then take my strength, daughter. It was always meant for you and Beck and Cian. My children.”

  Her father floated in front of her, the hags and Torin ignoring him as they continued their argument. Her father kept his eyes on her. “Tell them I did love them. My sons. They will make great kings, and you are already a queen. You didn’t need a crown, Bron. You only needed your strong heart.”

  He moved forward, his essence merging with hers.

  The whispers died, but she was shot through with life. Her father had given her everything. He’d waited, given up his after, to give her one last gift. One last chance at life. She was suffused with energy. She brimmed with it. She could do this.

  “What just happened?” the skinny one asked, looking around the room as though searching for a threat.

  She took a step back, her will a palpable thing. In that moment, she felt like a queen.

  The hags cackled and Torin yelled. The guards began to tap their swords looking for something to kill. Bron could hear her compatriots waiting for the time and the time was now.

  Bronwyn did what she’d been born to do. She opened her soul and connected them all. A hundred bondmates, their power soaring and reaching out. The hag who had eaten all those souls gasped, and Bron realized the hag’s mistake. The hag was Bronwyn’s, caught in a net of her own making. Those souls that lived inside her wanted to be free, and Bronwyn gave them a way, a path to the after.

  The large hag shook and her head fell back, all the souls rushing out through her mouth and eyes and ears, killing her in an instant.

  Torin turned and tried to flee, but Maris caught him. She fell to the floor, caught in the power. Her mouth opened and a scream rent the air, but she held on to Torin, dragging him down, keeping him close. Bron felt her will. This was for her. This was for her love and the girl she’d been. Maris believed in vengeance and she was at peace with death.

  But Bron believed in love. Vengeance had burned away in the face of love. Love for her family and her husbands. Love for her people. Love for what was right in the world.

  She was the vessel and it was right.

  Bron felt the fire. It sizzled through her soul. She pulled it from Shim, dragging his power into her hands, and with a great yell she sent it out. It raced from her skin. Heat, white and hot, flashed through her, a great wave of purity. She sent it to engulf the hags and Torin and Maris, sent it out further to every soul on the hags’ leash. There was no way to free those they had corrupted except to send them to the after.

  Fire reigned, pouring from her every cell a cascade of purifying blaze that wiped clean Torin’s evil.

  Bron let it rage and rage, the heat crackling around her and then, when she was sure it was enough, she let it go.

  She slumped down, her body held up only by the chains that bound her. Her clothes had gone in the crisp of the flames, the fire burning so hot that there was nothing but stone and metal left in the room. Even the bones were ashes.

  Weariness settled over her, but she needed to hear them. Feel them.

  Nothing. The connection had burnt out as it had before.

  Or was it something worse? Minutes passed and she struggled against the bonds. She needed to get to them. What if it had all been for nothing and they were dead and gone and she’d been left alone?

  She loved them. Unabashedly, unashamedly, and now that she’d served her purpose she wanted nothing more than the life they had promised her. Their own kingdom and children to love, a lifetime to know her soul’s mates.

  She needed that lifetime. She needed her forever.

  Boot steps hurried along the floor, echoing through the hallways. “Bronwyn?”

  “Lach!” Her voice was hoarse, but she called out anyway. She knew his voice. She opened herself and there it was. The connection was tenuous, but it was there. It would grow again. They would nurture the bond between them, and they would have it again.

  His face came into view, his gorgeous, imperfectly perfect face, and then Shim was beside him, his eyes tired, but his lips smiling.

  They held her, their arms encasing her and lifting her up.

  “It was a close thing, love,” Shim said.

  “Shim passed out again. You have to remind me that Shim passes out every time you reach into his head and pull his power out. He damn near killed me.” Lach kissed her.

  Joy welled inside Bronwyn. It had worked. She was alive and whole and ready to live past this. “Get me out of here.”

  Lach shook his head. “Not a chance. We like you just the way you are, love. Bound and safe.”

  “We’ve decided keeping you locked up will keep you out of trouble.” But he was smiling and winking as he said it.

  She grinned. They thought she was trouble now. Wait until they met their children. She was sure there was lots of glorious, amazing trouble to come.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lach sat back and watched as Bronwyn bonded with her new sister-in-law. After a joyous reunion with her brothers, the two walked arm in arm, aiding all tho
se who had survived. The vampires had brought tools and Alexander Dellacourt was already arguing with his son over how this current political state would affect the stock market back on the Vampire plane. The group from Aoibhneas had already put up tents and had begun tending to the wounded under the direction of a red-haired Fae healer with the worst disposition Lach had ever seen. Queen Meg was doing her best to make everyone feel comfortable, but it would take a while to get the palace back in order. After all, his bride had torched a good portion of it.

  And Gillian. Gillian was gone again. She’d kissed him on the cheek and disappeared.

  Roan and Harry were hot on her trail.

  Bron laughed at something the queen said, the throaty sound making Lach’s cock jump.

  “We should never have found her new clothes,” Shim said with a sigh.

  Lach laughed. “She’s going to be a queen when our father heads off to the after. She can’t just walk around the Dark Palace without clothes on, Shim.”

  “It’s a terrible shame and a waste of such beautiful flesh.” Shim sighed as Bron looked over and waved.

  “I’m going to absolutely forget everything I just heard you say about my sweet sister,” Cian Finn said, looking very much the king. Everyone was busy cleaning up and burying the dead, but there was a general buzz that swept up every worker. Though there was mourning, there was also hope. Cian smiled as he watched his sister with his wife. “I can’t thank you enough for finding her or for loving her. She tells me she’s very happy and intends to put the Dark Palace to rights.”

  She’d certainly charmed his father. King Fergus had taken to his daughter-in-law immediately, declaring his sons not good enough for her, but he’d said it with a smile and wink. “I think you’ll find everyone in our kingdom will be eager to accommodate her.”

  Cian raised a brow. “And if they’re not?”

  Shim showed off a hint of fangs. “We’re Unseelie, Your Majesty. We know how to deal with difficult subjects.”

  Well, they would certainly know how to deal with anyone who fucked with their wife.