by Amy Sumida
Chapter Four
I was in the midst of my second orgasm when I realized that Arach's behavior—and that of every other faerie in the realm—could be a symptom of whatever was causing the magic of Faerie to spread to the Human Realm. I mean, I'm not an idiot; I did previously realize that there was a connection, but I had ignored the fact that the continuation of this “flourishing” was an indication that our efforts to seal the paths had failed.
“Arach,” I panted as my body subsided into twitching, “we need to get to the Great Tree.”
“We will,” he murmured just before sucking a nipple into his mouth.
I clutched him closer, all thoughts of leaving flying out the window. Arach was still as hard as stone inside me and he started to move again, grinding his pelvis against a wondrous place with every languorous thrust. He rose onto his forearms, silken blood-red locks falling around his feral face, and stared down at me with molten dragon eyes.
“I want another child, A Thaisce,” he whispered as if saying it too loud might startle me.
It still did. I winced, part of me knowing that this was also a side-effect of whatever was happening in Faerie.
“Not yet, Dragon,” I said gently. “You know that I can't give you another child until—”
“Don't mention them!” Arach snarled, his thrusts becoming more brutal. “Not now.”
“Okay,” I whispered and stroked the sides of his face. “Okay. It's just you and me. But I'm not ready to have another baby.”
The crimson scales that usually highlight Arach's cheekbones had spread down the sides of his face, his neck, and all the way to his groin. It was an indication of arousal and as such, was absolutely normal and even expected for intimate moments. I had sprouted scales as well—golden scales outlining my body from temples to belly. It only happened when I made love to Arach—his dragon called mine forth—but with my refusal, more of Arach's dragon burst forth in the form of claws and sharpened features.
Arach yanked out of me but only to flip me onto my hands and knees. He shoved my thighs apart, settled himself between them, and angled back inside me. With a violent shove, he seated himself deep and started a ferocious pounding. I braced myself with one hand against the headboard as my husband emptied his lust and frustration into me. My dragon snarled inside me—not in anger but arousal. She liked it rough—claws, teeth, and fire excited her. I started to buck back against Arach, my skin heating, and the bed began to shake.
“More,” Arach muttered. “More.”
I frowned through my draconian lust haze and looked back at him over my shoulder. Arach's expression had gone feral and focused, his stare locked on where our bodies merged. The muscles in his arms and chest clenched and released with wild beauty and his lips pulled back to bare his lengthened canines. The slap of his flesh against mine sounded like the cracks of a whip.
“Arach,” I called to him. “Arach!”
His stare lifted to mine.
“I love you,” I said gently, softening my gaze as well.
Arach blinked and jerked as if I'd slapped him. Then his body tightened and he roared out his release. His talons receded as his grip on my hips tightened. Arach emptied into me and I felt it—a hot rush coating my core. It was as if his body had been boiling and had to transfer some of its heat to save itself. Which was ridiculous. We're dragons; we breathe flames into each other as part of our foreplay and when we get really randy, we literally set the bed on fire. But we hadn't this time. I had felt the call of Arach's dragon but something had stopped me from tumbling into a blaze with him.
Reason. Cold hard reason curling in the back of my mind. The cooling truth that froze into ice and sent a shiver down my spine: something was very wrong in Faerie.
Chapter Five
I put my human clothing back on since we were headed to the Human Realm and Arach donned some of the clothes I'd bought for him to wear when he visited. In addition to his jeans, fisherman's sweater, and boots, he also needed to do a small glamour to cover his scales and eyes. His hair could be explained by dye and I suppose his eyes could have been contacts but even had they been contacts, they would have drawn attention. Normal people don't go around wearing reptilian contacts every day. So, Arach covered his bright, yellow gaze with chocolate brown, softened his fey features, and hid his glossy dragon scales beneath a glamour of pale skin. He looked as human as he could.
As Isleen, a duchess but also our chatelaine, readied the carriage for us, we said goodbye to our twin sons. They were out back, behind the castle, in the playground with several other children, including Hunter, the Hidden Ones kids, and the Phooka pups. The only adult present was Granuaile, my boys' old nanny who now how the job of surreptitiously looking after them. Except she wasn't being so surreptitious about it now since she'd had to take on babysitting a whole mess of kids in addition to her two charges.
“Why are you all alone with them?” I asked Granuaile as Arach and I stepped up.
“I don't know, my Queen,” Granuaile said with some distress. “The children came out on their own and I thought someone should look after them.”
“Damn,” I muttered. “We don't have time for this.”
“Thank you for watching the children,” Arach said to her. “Please, do so a little longer while we speak with their parents.”
“Of course, my King.” Granuaile inclined her head.
“You go find Neala, Righ, Roarke, and Anna and I'll look for Taog and Fionnaghal,” I suggested.
Arach agreed and we headed back inside the castle. He went one way and I went another. My path took me downward, through warm corridors that got warmer the deeper I went. The fey lights along the walls grew further apart until there was only one every twenty feet or so and the walls themselves lost their polish, looking more roughhewn. Finally, I stepped into the cavern below the castle—the entrance to a network of tunnels and caves and also the home of the Hidden Ones.
I immediately stepped out again.
My eyes were wide and my mouth hung open as my brain tried to process what I had just seen. The Hidden Ones were the first faeries created and Faerie had been a little... experimental when she formed them. Looking upon them, you might think that they'd been made last instead of first—using up all the leftover bits. That is, you'd think that if you managed to keep your sanity. Some would call them hideous, nightmarish even, but I loved them for the savage beauty. That being said, the scene I'd just witnessed was pushing it.
The Hidden Ones had been writhing and thrusting and slamming against—or into, rather—each other. Horns thrashed the air, claws scritched along insect-like carapaces, and scaled bellies slapped furred hides. And the sounds. I could still hear them; they seeped past the cavern entrance to taunt me. Why hadn't I taken that hooting, howling, groaning cacophony as a warning and stayed out? Now, I'd never get the image of them out of my head or the sound of their rapturous cries out of my ears.
It was a Hidden One orgy.
But that was no excuse for bad parenting. I straightened my shoulders, set my gaze firmly on the floor since the ceiling wasn't safe, and stepped back into the cavern with stomach-churning determination.
I called out, “Taog! Fionnaghal! Stop what you're doing and present yourselves immediately!”
The mass of moving bodies—seen out of the corner of my eyes—paused to pant and stare at me.
“My Queen!” Fionnaghal declared breathlessly as she emerged from the nebulous mass.
I looked up and focused on her face. Her bright yellow eyes were wide above her long, slender snout and the ruff of horns around her face shivered as she bowed her head respectfully. Behind her, her mate, Taog, rushed forward on thick rhino legs, his mouth hanging open on panting breaths and yellow fluid dripping from his fangs.
“My Queen.” Taog bowed. “How can we be of sss-ervice?”
“You can get your horny butts upstairs right now,” I snapped, then realized that horny could apply in two ways to them. “I mean your lusty bu
tts. A lone Sidhe is watching over your children.”
“But, Queen Vervain, they are of an age to look after themselves,” Fionnaghal protested.
“They're only seven!”
“Seven-year-old Hidden Ones,” she argued.
Around us, the other Hidden Ones went back to what they'd been doing.
“They are responsible children. They'll be fine,” Fionnaghal added.
“Do you think so?” I asked conversationally. “Because every adult in this castle seems to be absent. Do you know where they are? They're in their rooms fornicating. This whole damn castle—possibly the whole realm—is having sex. So, what do you think the children are doing? They're all up at the playground and they would have been alone if not for Granuaile—the only faerie who seems to feel responsible and protective of our precious children! One woman is guarding all of those fey kids. Now, what if something bad happened?”
“Like what?” Taog asked.
“Like a storm or an attack or a fucking accident!” I shouted.
The Hidden Ones stopped having sex again.
“They're children; they have accidents. They get hurt. You know that but something has come over the Faerie Realm and turned all of us into nymphomaniacs. It's bad enough with all of them”—I waved at the others, accidentally looking at them and instantly regretting it—“but you're parents. You don't get to have a day off to participate in an orgy.”
A hint of guilt tingled in my chest. I had been just as distracted with Arach but, in my defense, I'd known that someone was watching my children. Being royalty has its perks.
“It's not an orgy, my Queen,” Fionnaghal said. “We're not sharing partners.”
“Yeah, whatever,” I huffed. “Just get upstairs and watch your damn kids!”
I turned on my heel and stomped back into the corridor. Taog and Fionnaghal trudged silently after me. Unfortunately, the hallways didn't remain silent on the way back to the ground floor. Every door we passed had lusty sounds filtering through it—moans and screams and grunting. I grimaced and contemplated calling on Faerie. But I had a feeling that the Consciousness of the Faerie Realm was busy watching all of her children have sex. Though unsettling, that wasn't as disgusting as it sounded. Okay, maybe it was a little disgusting.
We met up with Arach, Roarke, Anna, and the Phooka parents, Neala and Righ. All three couples looked thoroughly chastised and slumped over to sit near Granuaile on the other benches that were set around the outskirts of the playground. I felt a little bad for raining on their parade, especially since I'd just come from, well, coming. But I wasn't about to leave the realm while our children were only attended by one nanny. That was just asking for more trouble.
“You six owe Granuaile your gratitude,” I said to the parents. “She's in charge of watching over my sons, not your children.”
“Aw, come on, V,” Roarke grumbled. “Hunter's old enough to take care of himself.”
“I'm not going over this argument again,” I snapped. “You know as well as I do that those children can get into a world of trouble on their own and you left Granuaile to deal with them all by herself. And she's not even a mother. Now, thank her!”
They murmured their thanks to Granuaile.
“I understand,” Granuaile said graciously. “I have felt the mating call myself. But the children are more important.”
That, of course, made the parents feel worse.
“You are getting a bonus this month, Granuaile,” I declared.
“A bonus?” she asked.
“Something special in addition to your pay. Commission a piece of jewelry with the Pixies, and tell them that we'll pay for it.”
“Thank you, Queen Vervain.” Granuaile bowed her head to me.
“Thank you for being responsible when even I have found myself distracted. I'm impressed with your fortitude,” Arach said to her. “Now, we must be off. Brevyn! Rian!”
Our boys came running over with Dexter and Deidre, our nurials. The nurials were father and daughter—fey animals with the bodies of lions, fox-like faces, six slender legs, barbed tails, ebony fur, crimson eyes, and, in the case of the males, horns and a thick ruff of fur around their long necks. Dexter shook his head, flopping his big ears about, and nuzzled my hand. I stroked him lovingly, he was like another child to me; I'd raised him from a pup. Soon, his fur and eyes would change color for winter, going snowy white and pale blue respectively.
“We must attend to some things in the Human Realm,” Arach said sternly. “We should be back momentarily but just in case we aren't, you two will obey Granuaile.”
“But, Dad,” Rian whined, “we don't need a babysitter.”
“She's your guardian for now, not a babysitter,” I said. “And you will be on your best behavior for her, do you understand me?”
“Yes, Mother,” Brevyn said serenely, one arm around Dexter's long neck.
Deidre nudged Rian with her sleek face as if prompting him.
“Yes, Mother,” Rian said obediently.
“Thank you.” I crouched down and opened my arms.
They both came into my embrace with the nurials circling us happily, their red eyes alight.
“I'll miss you both. Be careful while I'm gone. Something strange is happening here.”
“We noticed,” Rian grumbled. “All the grown-ups are acting weird.”
“Leave them be,” I said. “You've got Granuaile and the other parents now. You should be fine.”
Dexter nudged me.
“And Dex and Deidre,” I added with a laugh. “Look after our babies, Dex.”
He yipped as I stood up.
Arach bent down and hugged each boy. “All right, you can go back to your friends now. But remember that you are princes and the kingdom is under your care while your mother and I are gone. Act accordingly.”
“Yes, Father!” The boys said proudly. They ran back to the playground with the nurials trailing after them.
Chapter Six
Thankfully, Granuaile wasn't the only responsible Fire Faerie in the kingdom. Nothing could shake Isleen's sense of duty and she was even able to wrangle some Phookas to pull our carriage in their horse-form. She also managed to get a few Red Caps to stop their activities and escort us to the Great Tree. I don't know what she had to witness to accomplish those tasks and I hoped to never find out. Before we left, Arach asked Isleen to see to the wayfarer in case he didn't make it back in time. Then we finally left for the Great Tree.
There was only one way—if you didn't count possible paths that we missed—to get into or out of Tír na nÓg—the proper name of the Faerie Realm—and that was tracing. Tracing is the magical way of traveling from one place to another by sending your body in the form of pure thought through the Aether—a realm between the realms. You can direct a trace either with a chant, the name of a location, or by visualizing your destination. Most territories in the God Realm are protected by wards and require a chant to get through those barriers but the Faerie Realm was open to anyone who could trace. That didn't mean it wasn't protected though. There was only one place where you could trace into Faerie and that was through the Great Tree at the End of the Road. And the Great Tree was guarded.
As our carriage turned around in the space before the Great Tree, I searched the Forgetful Forest across from it but didn't see any knights on duty. That wasn't unusual; the knights on tree duty weren't seen unless they wanted to be seen. But current events had me wondering if they were really there. Hopefully, their sense of duty was as strong as Isleen's.
Although I couldn't see any fey knights in the forest, there was a group of them waiting in front of the Great Tree. With them was Mallien, the Fire-Sidhe wayfarer who King Cian had sent to the Fire Kingdom to close the passages to Earth the last time we'd attempted this. It looked as if another wayfarer would be sent to the Fire Kingdom this time. Cian must have assumed we be more comfortable working with the same wayfarer.
The knights and Mallien were dressed and glamoured to appea
r human. Lugh, the High Prince of Faerie, was dressed in human clothing as well but wasn't glamoured; his appearance, though head-turning, could pass for human, even with his golden eyes. The gold wasn't evident unless you were standing close and by the time someone got that close, he could glamour himself.
Lugh stood in front of the knights with a grim expression on his face. He stepped forward to meet us as our carriage headed back to Aithinne. “Has your kingdom descended into Bacchanalian orgies as well?” he asked dryly.
“You're not affected?” I countered.
“No. You?”
“Not so much.” I glanced at Arach and then back at Lugh. “It looks as if it's only affecting those who are full Fey and over the age of maturity.”