Diadem

by Kate Kelley

  She peeled off her damp skirt, then took off her shirt. “Aren’t you supposed to be filling me in on the plan?”

  Terrin cleared his throat. “I’m going to go in and convince Navi and her army to come here to prepare for Ganymede’s attack. At that time, you’ll transport the Fae army to Ursa and then immediately cross back through to Gem, leaving them to their fight. I’ll keep the Ursa army here for as long as it takes for Ganymede to attack.”

  Lyra threw her wet chemise to the floor, the cloth landing on the marble floor with a thwack. She crossed to her bath and took the fluffy white towel that was draped over the side, using it to dry her damp skin.“What if Navi goes back and discovers that her throne was taken?”

  Terrin turned his head to the side so that she could see his profile. “She won’t. I won’t let her.”

  “What would stop her?” Lyra asked as she pulled on her pants. Lyra grabbed her soft tunic and pulled it on.

  Terrin turned at that moment as if he knew she was dressed. “I don’t know,” he said as he picked up her vest from her bed. He opened it behind Lyra as he faced her and she bent her arms back to slip her arms through the sleeve holes. Terrin began lacing it up for her, the same way he did the day before.

  Every brush of his fingers against her torso elicited an inward purr from her senses. She involuntarily leaned forward. Terrin laced the last tier of stays and righted the vest’s shoulders.

  His eyes snagged upward a little bit and his fingers brushed over her cleavage, Lyra flinched and looked down. The buttons on her tunic were undone, revealing her skin to her breastbone. Terrin carefully buttoned them, leaving a trail of flushed skin on the way up.

  Finally he looked up at her as she combed her fingers through her hair. His eyes caught the movement and he reached up, grabbing a lock of hair and rubbing it between his fingers. Lyra’s breath caught in her throat.

  “He’ll see you immediately with this golden hair,” he said, his voice full of regret. Lyra moved closer to him and tilted her face to his. “Should I wear a wig, then? Perhaps something like Abner’s toupee? It would complete the man look, don’t you think?”

  Terrin didn’t smile. In fact, he frowned more deeply as his eyes roamed over her hair. “Perhaps a hood would do.”

  Lyra scoffed. “A hood would fall off during the battle.” She began to braid it and Terrin stopped her, taking over. Lyra blinked in surprise. “What are you doing? You know how to plait hair?”

  “Serving you,” he teased. Lyra’s heartbeat picked up at the reference Oriel once made about a man “serving his woman.”

  “I braided Iris’s hair many times when we were children. And my mother’s a time or two.”

  Lyra swallowed. “Were you close to Iris?”

  Terrin’s gentle tugging on her scalp traveled down to the apex of her legs. She burned in desire and embarrassment. Her reaction to him hadn’t ever stopped. It burned low and bright and on and on.

  Terrin chuckled, the deepness of it affecting her like Faerie rum. “We were, when we weren’t fighting like cats and dogs. She was a troublemaker, always skipping her lessons and running away to help stray animals. I would always find her and drag her back home.”

  Lyra smiled. “That doesn’t sound like Iris. She’s so...cool and collected.”

  Terrin was quiet a moment. “Responsibility changes a person.”

  Lyra nodded. “What about your mother? Were you close to her?”

  “I was. She was kind, and good. We used to play these made up games in the garden. Just silly things. She always made time for us, always listened to what we had to say. It’s hard for me to understand how she fell for Ganymede. She was too pure for that. She would have sensed his dark magic and recoiled, wouldn’t she’ve?”

  Lyra stiffened slightly and closed her eyes.

  I need to get rid of this dark magic inside of me. It’s revolting. I’m revolting.

  Terrin finished the braid and Lyra stepped away immediately, busying herself with pulling her boots on. “Anything else I should know about the battle?” she clipped out.

  Terrin stilled. “What did I say? What upset you?”

  Lyra stood and sheathed her knife, her gaze averted. “Nothing. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  He grabbed her arm gently and she shrugged out of it, crossing to the door.

  “Lyra…” he warned, his voice like the grating of a wheel on stone.

  “What?” She turned and placed her hands on her hips.

  Terrin came in close, his hands coming up on the door at her back, boxing her in.

  Lyra stared at his throat and the steady beat of his pulse there. Terrin’s head came down until his forehead was inches from hers. “What did I say that upset you?”

  Lyra looked him in the eye then and a shock of need poured into her. Her knees quaked slightly. “Why are you speaking to me? I’m revolting, unnatural.” She hugged herself and looked away, bitter tears stinging her eyes.

  Terrin was utterly silent for a beat. When he spoke, it was on a breath.“You are far from disgusting, Lyra, I can promise you that.”

  Lyra shivered. “But you said that your mother should have recoiled from Ganymede--”

  “You aren’t revolting,“ he repeated, his eyes dark.

  She felt his breath on her mouth and swallowed her trepidation. “You nearly said as much to Oriel back at the jewelers.” The words fell from her mouth like a wayward raindrop from a storm cloud. He’d said to Oriel that he figured she was a lousy toss. She hadn’t even known she was holding that grudge until she spoke it out loud.

  Terrin stilled again and Lyra watched his mouth part as if he would say something.

  She didn’t want to hear it. She bolted from underneath his arm and opened the door, slipping through.

  Terrin grabbed her and spun her around, pressing her into his bedroom door across the hall.

  He grabbed her arms. “Let me explain something,” he started, his voice low and unyielding, “I wasn’t myself at that time--”

  “Why is that everyone’s excuse?” Lyra muttered, turning her head to the side to escape Terrin’s hard, all encompassing stare.

  A servant walked toward them from the far end of the hall.

  Terrin jiggled the doorknob and Lyra fell backwards into the room when the door opened. He closed and locked it with a soft click. Lyra was surprised to see a new bed was already built so soon after the fire. She brushed her hand along the smooth, polished cherry wood of the frame.

  Terrin began pacing the room, rifling through his hair with his hand.

  Lyra watched him. “Terrin, really, we don’t have time.”

  “Let me explain myself. It was ungentlemanly of me to say that about you. I apologize.” He faced her, hands behind his back.

  Lyra wanted to laugh and she bit her laugh to keep it from escaping.

  Terrin’s face darkened. “Why are you laughing at me? I thought you wanted an apology.”

  Lyra looked around the room as if she would find guidance from somewhere in its corners. “Because you don’t apologize and this is strange. Now let’s go before--”

  Terrin crossed the room in two strides and cradled her head in his hands. “Let me be clear. You’re the last person I would ever call revolting.”

  Lyra’s stomach fluttered. “What about the lousy toss part?” she whispered, daring to meet his gaze.

  Terrin blinked and he let out a ragged breath. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

  Lyra ducked out of his grasp and reached behind her toward the doorknob. She laughed. “Real convincing.”

  Terrin moved with preternatural speed, backing her up to the door for the third time, cradling the back of her head with his hand and claiming her mouth with his.

  Breath left Lyra’s lungs as the feel of his familiar, yet exotic touch alighted every part of her body and soul. She opened for him instantly, and he groaned deeply, kissing her like a man starved. All sense of time was lost as Lyra responded to every glide of his t
ongue, every brush of his lips. He held her as if she were precious, as if she were his.

  She shook with the need to touch him, and unfurled her fists from her hem. Slowly, she slid her hands along the hard planes of his chest, down toward the hem of his tunic where she slipped her hands underneath. When her palms found his warm skin, she couldn’t stop exploring Terrin let out a strangled groan and his mouth turned hard, desperate.

  Lyra matched his frenzy, her palms trailing up his hard abs and chest and around to the cords of muscle on his back. She’d dreamt of touching his skin like this for as long as she knew him.

  His kisses softened, trailed over her cheek, to the underside of her jaw. She let her head fall back, enraptured in the feel of his mouth on her skin, the soft scrape of his stubble on her neck. He trailed the kiss down the sensitive places on her neck, all the way to her collarbone. His hand was tight on her braid, pulling slightly to keep her neck exposed to him. Lyra moaned when his other hand reached inside her vest to cup her breast and his thumb grazed her nipple. She dug her fingernails into his back.

  “Lyra..” Terrin said on a groan, eliciting a deep tug from between her legs as if she’d been physically stroked.

  His fingers found the buttons of her tunic and pulled, popping them open, his mouth following the path of his hands as his kisses teased her flesh as his hands smoothed down her hips and cupped her ass, bringing her tight against him.

  Lyra groaned with need, and her hands drifted downward, skimming his skin lightly as she dipped her fingers into waistband of his low-slung breeches.

  Terrin stilled, his hands squeezing her ass roughly, bringing her belly to press against his erection. He growled in her ear, “That’s a dangerous game, love.”

  A knock at her back shocked Lyra out of her languid state. Terrin stopped and smoothed a barely there kiss against her neck.

  Abruptly, he lifted his head and righted her vest and hair in quick, sure movements, his face barely constrained lust.

  Lyra tried to catch her breath, tried to reign in the stars that clouded her vision, the heat that stained the parts of her skin his had touched.

  He took his hands from her and looked into her eyes, impassiveness once more overtaking his features as if he hadn’t just kissed the life out of her. “Did that convince you?”

  The door opened and Frey bounded in, turning in a startle toward Lyra and Terrin behind the door. She rolled her eyes at them. “Will you two stop canoodling for two seconds so that we can speak to the Fae queen?”

  Lyra glared at Frey. “Watch it. You forget who holds your career in his hand.”

  Frey’s face twisted. “Hell, you’re a fierce one. I was only joking. I’m glad you’re finally indulging. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Zuri stood in front of the throne that Iris sat upon, the two stoic and regal and looking as if they were trying to out-Queen the other.

  Vale stood to the side of the throne, her arms crossed. Iris eyed both Fae women down her nose with thinly veiled contempt.

  “Queen Zuri...Vale,” Terrin greeted them with an incline of the head.

  “What is the plan?” Zuri asked, wasting no time.

  “I’ll go now and retrieve Navi and her army, convince them to come here. My ambassador will stay behind with you and will transport you and the army on my word. Ready your men and wait for my signal. I’ll transport back to speak with you in twelve hours. I trust that’s enough time?”

  Zuri smiled and twirled a beaded dreadlock. “More than enough time. And at that time, we will collect the pendant and then join your army in preparation for Ganymede’s attack.”

  “What if Ganymede attacks while the Fae army is battling Ursa mages?” Lyra asked. Terrin shook his head. “Let’s just hope that doesn’t happen.”

  That’s all we have? Hope?

  Zuri and Vale nodded their heads in unison as if it were enough, and convened together for more private conversation. They flicked their hands in unison again and a soldier came forward instantly.

  Iris stared daggers into them before getting up and stalking toward Terrin, her heels clicking loudly. “Since when was the plan to let the Fae overthrow Ursa?” she hissed at Terrin, pulling him into the corner of the room.

  Terrin gestured for Lyra to follow. She reluctantly joined them, avoiding Iris’s scrutiny.

  “Whose idea was it, your ambassador’s?” She spit the word out like it burned her tongue.

  Terrin glared at her and Lyra tamped down her anger, clasping her hands together in front of her. “It was an impromptu decision Lyra made, and a smart one at that. Had she not offered Vale the throne, they wouldn’t be here right now, ready to join our side.”

  “You can’t trust the Fae. They’re innately tricky and clever,” Iris said, bending her head and placing her fingertips to her forehead. Somehow her crown stayed on her head with the movement.

  Lyra shook her head. “Frey said they keep their word--”

  “Of course she’d say that. She’s Fae. And so are you.”

  Terrin shifted, his gaze catching the Fae soldiers outside the window. “We don’t have many options right now.”

  “Send them back. Send the ambassador with them,” Iris said through clenched teeth.

  “I’m done with this conversation,” Terrin said flatly, then turned to Lyra. “My signal is the royal insignia tapestry rolled out of the top of the embrasure. You got that?”

  Lyra nodded, glancing at the fuming Iris behind him. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Iris narrowed her eyes but kept her mouth tightly closed. She turned on her heel and stormed back to her throne, where council members rushed forward to speak with her.

  ✽✽✽

  The wait in the courtyard nearly drove Lyra mad. The Fae Moon hovered nearby, ready to be transported. She kept her mind clear, picturing the portal alcove in the glacier wall. The Fae soldiers had said they wanted to be a bit away from the castle when they first arrived to plan their entrance.

  “How long has it been?” Lyra hissed to the ball of light, her eyes steady on the embrasure.

  “Half hour,” a voice whispered back. Finn, it sounded like.

  Lyra inwardly groaned and curled her toes inside her boots. It had felt like two hours at least.

  A rumbling shook the earth, so subtle that Lyra thought she imagined it at first. When the vibration coursed through her boots to reach the bones in her hips, she knew it was real.

  She whipped around to see a stampede of horses surging toward them several yards away. What looked like hundreds of soldiers atop them.

  Lyra paled as her pure dread coursed through her veins.

  “Are those Ursa soldiers?” She turned to glance at the embrasure on the battlement. A new wave of shock coursed through her when she saw the red flag hanging over it.

  Gods, he must have just lowered it.

  She turned to the Fae Moon as the horses gained speed, their gallops growing louder by the second.

  “This is it!” Lyra muttered to the ball of light. She closed her eyes one hand on the Máni, her palm fuzzy with warmth, and the other clutching her pendant. She pictured the glacial alcove that was the Ursa portal and felt a snap when they fell through the other side.

  An echo, someone calling out her name, trailed away as she landed on icy ground. Lyra got the sense that the person who called her name was on the other side, in Gem.

  Who was that?

  She shivered and clutched her arms as the Máni floated to the center of the icy clearing and erupted with light, thousands of Fae soldiers replacing it, filling the glacial plain. Vale was at the head, dressed in full leather armor, complete with a matching helmet that covered half of her face. Her braids trailed out of the bottom, twisted onto either side of her neck.

  She sauntered over to Lyra and bowed. “Thank you, halfling. We’ll take it from here. Have Terrin meet us in half a day’s time, human time.” She winked and turned back to army.

  “You know where the cas
tle is? It’s just up the hill about a mile--”

  “Oh, we know. We imagine it’s where it’s always been,” she said, her back still toward her.

  Lyra nodded as cold wind whipped the loose hair back from her face. She turned back into alcove and noted the obsidian on the wall. It was back.

  She touched it, and fell into a dark room.

  In the next instant, a body slammed into her back.

  “Ouch!”

  “Sorry,” a deep voice mumbled.

  Lyra stood and felt for the door when another body slammed into her. “Ouch! What the hell?” Had some Fae soldiers transported back with her?

  “Open the door, female.” A different, grizzly male voice sounded.

  Lyra opened the door, eager to get out of the trap.

  A horror scene lay before her.

  She must have been too distracted by the men piling into the throne room portal closet to hear the clash of swords on the other side.

  Armor-clad men clashed dripping swords with ferocity, and mages blasted each other across the room, bodies sliding across the marble floor in streaks of thick blood. Bodies piled up, and men tripped and leapt over them to attack.

  The two men from the closet portal charged forward and began fighting immediately and Lyra twirled out of their way, ducking behind a statue in the back of the room. She peered out to get her bearings on the situation.

  She saw no one she recognized. Iris was gone from her usual seat at her throne. She hoped with all that was in her that she was alright. They needed their Queen.

  Men continued to erupt from the portal, their armor silver with a bear insignia painted on the crest.

  Lyra assumed then that they were Ursa men. They clashed swords with black-robed men who wore no armor. Mages. Whose mages were they?

  Then the riders that had come up before she transported the Fae, those were…

  The statue she hid behind exploded in a fury of sharp marble, the debris cutting into her face. She dove to the side before another blast landed on the wall she had just vacated, cracking it with a clean strike. She spun and blasted her assailant, her aura red and bright. It pushed the black-robed man across the room and unconscious.