Garden of Light (Dark Gardens Series Book 2)

by Meara Platt

  He remained standing beside her, her hand still lodged in his, and she suddenly felt awkward … in truth, it didn’t feel right at all. Perhaps if he had offered her a chair or knelt in front of her. In his defense, he did seem far too unsettled to do more than stand there looking as if he wished to be somewhere else at the moment, anywhere else.

  “Miss Hargreaves, we suit each other.”

  “The same might be said of a pair of soft gloves or well-worn boots.”

  “Ah, I see what you mean.” He cleared his throat as though to gain courage. She knew he was scared, for his hand was hot and clammy, and he appeared tense. “Miss Hargreaves, I think I am in love with you. Indeed, I know I must be, for I’ve been giddy and distracted ever since I met you. I hope you will grow to love me. I expect it will take time, but I think my life will be much improved by marrying you.”

  My life?

  A small shiver ran up her spine as she recalled the words Brihann had spoken, words she and Cadeyrn had overheard during their time travel. Your king he’d said when speaking to Feogrin the day he’d killed Cadeyrn’s father. Not our king. And now, Lord Babcock was speaking of his life and how it would be improved. No mention of her life, or their lives together. And he kept referring to her as Miss Hargreaves, which was irritating, to say the least.

  Was she asking too much? Seeking a love that simply did not exist?

  “I’m overwhelmed, my lord,” she said, slipping out of his moist grasp and taking a step back. “May I have the night to think upon my answer?”

  He seemed surprised. “I had hoped … yes, of course.”

  “You see, it isn’t you. It’s me. I was raised simply, a mere vicar’s daughter, taught to minister to the poor and attend parish services. I’ve never managed a manor full of servants nor ever entertained nobility.” She glanced at her gown. “This is the finest I’ve ever owned. Your world is quite new to me and I would not like to make you a laughingstock.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you? Because I think you’re a fine man and I would hate to disappoint you.”

  “You couldn’t disappoint me, Miss Hargreaves. I’m not blind to your circumstances. I also know that you’re clever and engaging, not to mention kindhearted and beautiful. You may doubt your worth to me, but I don’t. I know what I’m getting and am content with it. So, if your concern is for me, you needn’t worry. I will be well pleased with the arrangement. What say you?” In that moment, he knelt beside her and reached out with trembling fingers. “Will you have me?”

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and with a heart that felt as though it were tearing in half, said, “Yes, my lord. I will.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Melody stood by her window, gazing up at the full moon. Tears spilled down her cheeks like water cascading over the waterfall where she and Cadeyrn had last made love, but she made no attempt to stem the flow. She’d made a terrible mistake and didn’t know how to fix it.

  She ought to have been thrilled by Lord Babcock’s proposal, ought to now be dreaming of their perfect wedding day, thinking of him and their safe, respectable life together. Instead, there was an ache so deep and hot inside her she felt like a volcano about to erupt in a spew of ancient rock and heat, destroying all within its reach in one great swell.

  Even the moon seemed to be an omen of impending doom, for it hung low and bloated in the sky. Where it had moments ago been pale silver, now it was streaked with rivers of dark red that ran down its face, as though it were bleeding. She turned away, unable to look at it any longer, for it was hopeless, dying … and it was all her fault.

  She had to make things right.

  But how?

  The hour was well past midnight, but Melody couldn’t be certain of the time for there had never been such a moon in the sky before. She considered removing her gown and donning her nightclothes in preparation for bed, but knew sleep would elude her. Besides, how could she consider sleep when her thoughts were filled with Cadeyrn?

  Her decision to abandon him and his Fae subjects to their fate was eating her up inside. She wasn’t as much of a coward as she thought she was.

  Had Cadeyrn known she would respond this way when he released her?

  She didn’t think so, for Cadeyrn’s manner was direct, not sly or scheming. He made decisions and issued commands according to logic and honor, expecting all to obey. She needed to take him at his word, not feel manipulated, for the greater importance was in saving the Fae. They had become quite dear to her.

  Now understanding what she had to do, she hurried downstairs to catch Lord Babcock before he returned to the Ashness Inn. She had left him and Vicar Axwell downstairs in the vicar’s study. They were negotiating terms of the marriage, which would, of course, include a favorable arrangement for the vicar. Her mother had retired to her own bedchamber to make wedding plans. It was to be a brief engagement, the banns read tomorrow.

  Oh, dear! She had to stop that from happening.

  The door to the vicar’s study was closed, but she knew the men were inside for she heard their muffled voices. Too bad she couldn’t make out the words. A moment later, she heard the clink of glasses and realized they were congratulating each other on their good fortune.

  Melody took a deep breath and silently opened the door, but it had barely opened a crack before she caught a sense of their conversation. She froze, clutching the knob so hard her fingers turned white.

  “Lord Brihann will be pleased,” the vicar was saying. “Perhaps we can ask for greater reward. After all, she turned out to be more powerful than anyone expected.”

  “Go ahead and make your appeal to the Dragon Lords, but count me out. I’ve already been promised riches beyond my wildest imaginings. That suits me just fine.”

  “When will you give the girl to Lord Brihann?”

  Lord Babcock let out a short, sneering laugh. “I had thought to do it right after the ceremony, but she’s a beautiful girl, and I may wait until after our wedding night. There’s no harm in sampling a little earthly delight before turning her over to those creatures. What will you do with the mother?”

  “She’ll have to die, of course. I’ll await further instruction from Lord Brihann as to when her death will happen. I’ve been slowly poisoning her by mixing her tea with dragon’s ash. I’ll be glad to be rid of her.”

  Melody closed her eyes and let out a silent groan.

  She had to find Cadeyrn!

  But as she tried to close the door, it made a savage squeak. “It’s the girl! She must have heard us,” the vicar cried, lunging for her in a determined attempt to haul her inside. Lord Babcock was one step behind him.

  Melody slammed the door shut in the vicar’s face and took off at a run. She tore through the kitchen and out the back door, not certain where to go. Was anywhere safe?

  A light mist was falling, the droplets cold against her skin, and the grass was slippery with dew as she groped her way in the dim, red moonlight that shone through the clouds to the spot where the bluebell garden had once flourished. “Cadeyrn!” she shouted, no longer caring who might overhear. “Help me!”

  The vicar and Lord Babcock were almost upon her. She saw their dark shadows against the moonlight and heard the scramble and thump of their boots upon the ground. “Cadeyrn, please!”

  She stood shivering in the open patch of grass, about to give up and run to St. Lodore’s—though she doubted the church itself would offer better sanctuary—when a soft, glowing light suddenly appeared before her. “Edain, thank goodness! Take me to Cadeyrn! Quickly, they’re almost upon us!”

  But the beautiful faerie made no move toward her. She merely cast her a gloating smile and turned to the approaching men. They had hesitated upon noticing her, obviously able to see her and fearing that more Fae would appear and surround them. Edain’s next words confirmed that no one was coming to Melody’s rescue. “What are you waiting for, you fools? Take her to Brihann. Or must I do it myself?”

  Melody gasped as
the ground suddenly opened up beneath her feet, as rich soil gave way to a dark abyss that smelled of rotting bones and cold, foul air. She was falling and had nothing to grab onto to stop her plunge, nothing but her own wits to save herself!

  At first she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, for her fear was that great. Then the realization that she was now alone, that Cadeyrn couldn’t protect her, brought his words rushing to the fore. You have a boundless power. Believe in yourself.

  Yes, she had to.

  She had to. Brihann would show her no mercy, would kill her slowly and revel in her torment, for that was the nature of the beast.

  Her shoulder struck one of those razor sharp boulders, and suddenly she was slammed against more boulders, sliding and bumping downward with bone-jarring force. The air grew hotter, heavier, and almost impossible to breathe. She groped for one of those boulders, hoping to grab an outlying edge, but she was falling, falling, falling at a quickening pace until by some miracle she landed hard, but merely bruised, in the center of an enormous cavern that was unbearably hot and reeked of demon ooze.

  I’m alive!

  It was a good first step.

  She tried to rise, but the fall had knocked the wind out of her. Her limbs were aching, but not broken, at least she didn’t think so. A lone torch gleamed somewhere close, shedding just enough light for her to survey her surroundings once her eyes adjusted to the gray darkness. She realized the cavern was more than a stinking hole where lost souls were left to rot. Quite the opposite, it was a magnificent replica of the hall in Cadeyrn’s castle, the hall where the Stone of Draloch stood in its eternal glory. All that was missing was the massive stone.

  “So you survived the fall,” said Vicar Axwell, his voice coming from behind her in a snaky hiss.

  Lord Babcock grabbed her by her forearms and shoved her to her knees. He and the vicar must have followed her down through a demon portal, for they now stood over her, seeming quite unharmed. “By the time Lord Brihann finishes with you, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

  He shoved her again.

  She let out a yelp of pain, but neither man seemed to notice or care. They were giddy with excitement about their captured prize and eager to turn her over to the High Dragon Lord as soon as he appeared. “Lord Brihann!” the vicar called out with marked impatience, “we’ve done as you asked. Here is your gift, now it’s your turn to give us ours.”

  The hall remained ominously silent for a long moment.

  No one moved. No one breathed. Then Melody felt a foul, hot breeze brush across her cheeks and heard a soft whoosh, then another whoosh echo in the vast hall. The hall was still dark, only the one, small torch lit. Where was that light coming from? She barely made out several shadows circling silently overhead, but they were there … four dark shapes in graceful flight.

  The Dragon Lords.

  Only four?

  Who was missing? Perhaps Necros, who’d lost his tail. Perhaps Bloodaxe, assuming he was now with Cadeyrn.

  A shiver ran up her spine. She’d find out soon enough.

  A drumbeat resounded in the distance, momentarily distracting her gaze from the dragons hovering overhead. Its deep, rhythmic pounding grew louder … louder … almost upon her … then suddenly stopped. Melody held her breath as the hall began to flood with dark, frog-like shapes. The creatures entered from all sides, their talons clacking against the slick marble floor as they circled her.

  Another cold shiver gripped her heart. She couldn’t fight them all!

  No fear.

  Show no fear!

  To her surprise, she didn’t have to, for as the light in the hall brightened, they shielded their hollow eyes and took positions around the outer edges, making no attempt to approach or harm her, as though afraid to draw near.

  Brihann must have ordered them to keep their distance, she supposed. Otherwise, they would have been at her throat. Why not simply order his demons to rip her to pieces? Unless Brihann was afraid of her as well. Another shiver shot through her, but this one was nothing like the first. This one sparkled through her body, bringing her to life. She suddenly felt … strong and reckless. She decided to taunt him and find out. “What’s the matter, Brihann? Afraid to show yourself, even with your demon army to protect you?”

  “Silence, you foolish girl!”

  “Is that Necros hiding behind you? Still flying, Necros? What a pity. I should have cut off more of your tail. Perhaps I’ll finish the job now.” She tried to raise her arms, but Vicar Axwell and Lord Babcock held her firmly in their grip. Believe in yourself! She closed her eyes and tried to think powerful thoughts … whatever those were.

  “Release me,” she intoned, flicking her wrists.

  In the next moment, the unsavory pair cried out as they let go of her. She flicked her wrists again and they flew through the air, landing hard on the marble floor. Take that, Bad Cock!

  She ought to have trusted Cadeyrn’s opinion of that wretched lord.

  She ought to have trusted Cadeyrn’s opinion of her. She glanced down at her body and suddenly understood what others had understood all along … she was the source of the light glowing in their dark realm. Only she had the power to hold herself back. But she no longer doubted and would prove it to herself and these demons. She raised her arms as though summoning the powers of the heavens to create the golden aura that these creatures feared, none fearing her powers more than Brihann.

  She was his nightmare.

  She was here, in his hall, about to let loose a barrage of golden light that would set this place aglow with the brilliance of a thousand suns.

  Please, work!

  As the first sparks sprang from her fingers, the lesser demons howled and scurried farther into the recesses along the back walls. She shot another spark of light upward to illuminate the ceiling, for the Dragon Lords were still soaring overhead.

  She glanced up to watch them writhe against the light, their talons curled, wings outstretched, and scales gleaming. Necros’ scales were amber, Python’s were iridescent green, while Mordain’s were a bold, blood red. Brihann was … she searched for the ink-black gloss of his dragon’s coat, but couldn’t see him.

  Where was he?

  “Think you can best me, you bitch!” He came to ground in front of her and raised his wing as though to strike her. Goodness! He was so big up close. His twitching tail, spiked and massive, struck out with whip-like speed to lash her ankles, but she jumped and successfully eluded him.

  That was too close for comfort!

  Instead of striking out again, he shifted into his Fae form. He looked old and his face was misshapen with hatred, but he still exuded strength. She realized that he was as strong as he’d been in that earlier time, five thousand years ago, when he and Ygraine had been a young married couple. Despite his obvious age and soul of evil, there remained a horrifying resemblance between him and Cadeyrn.

  Cadeyrn.

  Where was he?

  Did he know she had been captured?

  Did he care?

  That inkling of doubt spread through her body with dazzling efficiency, choking off her reason as it surged through her blood and seeped into her bones with destructive force. The ash of Dragon’s Hearth! She’d let it in, and it was taking over.

  Brihann let out a cruel laugh as her light began to flicker.

  She tried to fight it, tried to raise her hand to toss the blackguard across the hall. Nothing. The poison was too far into her system to shake off.

  Brihann slowly withdrew his sword from the jeweled sheath at his hip, and with another cruel laugh, cracked its hilt across the back of her head.

  Pain exploded in her head and all went dark.

  Chapter Twenty

  Melody wasn’t certain how long she’d been unconscious, but it had been long enough for Brihann to bind her hands and feet in a silvery rope no thicker than a thread. The rope appeared so delicately fragile that the merest tug might break it, but Melody knew enough about the power of the Fae to rea
lize that nothing, not even the sharpest mortal blade, could ever break these bonds.

  She heard voices and realized the Dragon Lords were close by, debating her fate. Not that they ever meant to free her. No, they were deciding whether to kill her quickly or draw it out to prolong her suffering for their amusement.

  Mercy! Was she still in Brihann’s hall? She thought so, but was surprised that he hadn’t moved her to some place darker, deeper within his realm. Ever so carefully, she raised her eyelids just enough to study her surroundings. The hall was still cast in a fading, gold light, possibly a remnant of her afterglow, enough light for her to study her captors.

  Brihann stood surprisingly close to her, still in his Fae form. She thought it odd, but not very important at the moment. Who were the others beside him? In the next moment, she realized these were his fellow Dragon Lords. She tried to ease her head up ever so slightly, but even that small movement sent a bolt of pain streaking through her body. She closed her eyes and held her breath until the pounding in her head subsided and her scrambled senses began to unscramble.

  Brihann had not held back when he’d struck her.

  The fiend! She’d repay the favor.

  Suddenly, he and the other Dragon Lords stopped arguing among themselves and turned toward one of the doorways. They stepped back, no doubt to provide whoever was entering a clear view of her, their prized captive, but their move also provided her a clear view of their arriving guest. Lord Bloodaxe strode in along with his advance guard. He was in his human form and wore a black cape trimmed in sable. His soldiers were less finely clad. Accompanying them were three other powerful-looking figures, also wearing capes as fine as the one Bloodaxe wore, but their hoods shaded their faces so she couldn’t tell who they were … or what they were, though they stood upright. “Your Majesty,” Bloodaxe said, bowing toward Brihann. “Your nephew wishes an audience with you.”

  Nephew? Oh, no! He’d brought Cadeyrn!