by Holly Bargo
Uberon carried his mate to the bed as waves of pleasure shuddered through her body. A quick glance informed him that the halfling servant had delivered a tray as promised. He wondered for a brief moment if the halfling would consider leaving the Erlking’s employ to serve Corinne in his recently established kingdom. The thought dissolved as he lay his mate on the bed and climbed between her legs to ensure that he imprinted himself upon her body, mind, and soul throughout the long night.
Corinne felt like a gibbering idiot when her eyes opened to the golden light of midmorning. She groaned, every muscle sore and the flesh between her thighs swollen and tender. She felt well-used and the thought of that use teased a satisfied smile from her mouth.
“A bath awaits you, my lady,” Luthhir announced, pulling a dress from the wardrobe that looked sturdier than anything she’d worn since arriving in the Erlking’s demesne.
“Thank you,” she murmured drawing on a wrapper. Her lips felt numb and clumsy, her tongue thick, her mouth dry.
“I set a mug of tea beside the tub, my lady.”
“Marry me,” she murmured with utmost gratitude.
Luthhir shook his head and grinned as she hobbled past on wobbly legs and unsteady feet. Really, the female said the oddest things, but he found charm in her strange phrases and quaint mannerisms. He glanced at her again and thought that the newly self-appointed Quoliálfur king showed true inspiration, endurance, and skill. The lady’s cries of pleasure had rung throughout that wing of the castle until nearly dawn.
He did not doubt that her untried flesh ached.
Nor did he doubt that she’d soon enjoy a repeat of the previous night’s passion.
And enjoy it she would.
None doubted fae sexual prowess, especially in the elder of their kind. In his centuries of service to the Erlking, Luthhir had witnessed more than one foolish human woman throw herself at a fae male in search of fabled pleasure. “Elfshot” the humans called it when one of their females tasted fae passion and eschewed their own kind ever more.
Stupid humans. Did they not realize that fae males did not take fragile humans to mate?
Luthhir snorted and ignored the evidence of his master’s mate. Lady Oriel had long since relinquished what was left of her humanity; she was all fae now and a lovely one at that with hair the rich color of fertile loam and eyes the deep, warm, golden brown of amber. He had to admit that he liked the variety in coloring these former humans brought to the fae. Why, it was said the moon-born had eyes like amethysts.
He rather liked the jade green eyes of Lady Corinne, softer than emerald, gleaming instead of sparkling.
When he deemed the lady had soaked long enough, he knocked on the door and called, “The Erlking and Lady Oriel request your presence in the breakfast room.”
He heard a splash and a heavy sigh, then her response, “I’ll be out in a few minutes. If Uberon comes up to fetch me, tell him to cool his jets.”
Luthhir did not know what jets were, but he did know he’d utter no such impertinence to the formidable ancient. Instead, he busied himself with the finishing touches on packing the lady’s belongings.
In good time, Corinne emerged pink and moist and a little less stiff.
“I haven’t seen this dress before,” she remarked as she pulled on a comfortable cotton chemise.
“Lord Uberon ordered it. You need something sturdy for travel.”
Corinne looked at the hem of the dress, which ended a few inches above her ankles. The short length would make walking easier than a hem that dragged the ground. Cleaner, too.
Luthhir placed a narrow roll of fabric on the bed and pointed toward a pair of boots. “Stockings, my lady, to prevent chafing. The garter belt is is to your left.”
“Oh.” Since she hadn’t worn socks since arriving in the Erlking’s lands—and she’d never worn actual stockings, only pantyhose—she paused and examined the garments for a moment in curiosity. Corinne unrolled one of the stockings and struggled for a moment to get the seam running straight up the back of her leg. She pulled up the garter belt and then turned and twisted to tie the garters, muttering, “I never thought I’d miss pantyhose.”
Hoisting the hem of her skirt and chemise over her knees, she bent down to pull on the new boots. She inhaled with relief at the soft brown leather that surrounded her feet, ankles, and calves. The boots fit perfectly without pinching. Standing, she bounced on her toes and decided the soles were thick enough to protect her feet, but not so thick or stiff as to make walking a chore.
“Will I do?”
“Allow me to confine your hair, my lady.”
“Of course,” she replied and sat still while Luthhir’s deft fingers smoothed her hair and wove it into a complicated braid threaded through with olive green and dull gold ribbons that matched her dress and the cloak she suddenly noticed was draped over the chair. When had that appeared?
“There are gloves in the pockets of your cloak,” the halfling said as he gave her hair a final pat. “Join your mate. I’ll convey your pack to the front entry.”
What pack? The question remained unvoiced.
Acting on impulse and affection, Corinne twirled around and wrapped her arms around the startled servant. “Thank you for all you’ve done, Luthhir. I’ll miss you.”
The halfling stiffened in her embrace, then relaxed and returned her hug with awkward affection. “It’s been a pleasure to serve you, my lady. I shall miss you, too.”
She startled him further by kissing his smooth cheek before releasing him to join her mate and their hosts.
Conversation in the breakfast room stopped when Corinne entered.
“Good morning, my dear,” Oriel greeted with a smile of affection. “It’s a lovely day to begin a journey.”
“Hello,” Corinne greeted as Uberon rose from his chair and joined her at the door. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him for a carnal, spine-tingling, toe-curling kiss. She panted when he broke the passionate connection and did not protest when he led her to a chair. She sat and blinked as he filled a plate for her and set it in front of her.
“You play dirty,” she muttered when her mind started working again.
“Shall I bend you over the table before we leave?” he murmured back.
“Uberon!” she squeaked and blushed.
He chuckled. “Eat, beloved. We’ve a long way to travel.”
“Since you’ve commanded the loyalty of some of the Daimónio Refstófae, will you fly?” the Erlking inquired.
“No. None of the highborn accepted my offer. Why should they? They have no lack of power or opportunity.”
“Then you’re stuck with low caste fae.”
“The low caste fae followed me to the Unseelie Court,” Uberon reminded him. “We held a kingdom that generations of Seelie kings could not conquer until that damned Enders and the moon-born joined forces.”
“Your son had a good deal to do with that.”
“Marog. He grew prideful and entitled.”
“Your son?” Corinne echoed. “You said he died.”
“Aye, he died of his own hubris.”
“A mountain fell on him,” the Erlking explained. He shook his head. “Don’t let Enders into your new fortress. Every time a mountain falls, he’s involved.”
“Fortress?” Corrine’s faint echo rose high as she thought of the centuries it took to build the great cathedrals of Europe. The Unseeling Court had fallen less than five hundred years ago, if her reckoning of recent fae history was accurate. “How could you have had time to build a fortress?”
“I called to the mountain and its spirit acquiesced.”
She blinked, not understanding and not entirely sure she ought to ask for an explanation that she doubted she would understand. Oriel made a comment Corrine did not catch, so she focused on her breakfast while the conversation washed over her.
She’d get answers later.
The sun sat high in the sky when she took her last look at the E
rlking’s castle. Uberon hoisted her into the saddle of a tall, well-built horse with a pale golden hide that shimmered like pearl.
“It looks like an Akhal Teke,” she commented as Uberon swung into the saddle of an even taller, fiery bay. The bay shook its black mane and stomped one heavy hoof.
“Not even close,” he replied.
Corinne looked back at Oriel and Gus and waved, having already thanked them for their gracious hospitality before Uberon grabbed her hand and led her outside. She looked back at Uberon and nodded, blinking away sudden tears. She’d miss them.
The bay leaped forward and Corinne’s palfrey followed with smooth, fleet strides. She quickly settled into the horse’s rhythm and turned her face toward the sun for a long moment before gazing at the new world around her.
She rather thought it looked like Switzerland—not that she’d ever been there—but with warmer temperatures. Touches of red, gold, and purple testified to the onset of autumn. The sharp scent of pine blew down on cool alpine breezes to fill her lungs with exhilaration.
“It’s beautiful here,” she exclaimed.
“Aye, Gus wrought well.”
She closed her mouth and pondered the implications of that short statement. Looking around some more, she thought she … oh, no, she did recognize that bent tree trunk.
“I’ve been here before.”
“Aye, Gus informed me. I’ll have to speak to the swifts about that.”
“They didn’t harm me.”
“No, but they could have. They were careless with you.”
Another thought struck her. “You seem to be about the only one who doesn’t hold them in deepest respect or even fear.”
Uberon’s dark chuckle didn’t reassure her. “I know them too well.”
That was probably another answer she didn’t want.
“From what I’ve heard, those unicorns are like gods.”
“Aye.”
“And your lack of fear implies you’re as powerful as they.”
He neither confirmed nor denied that supposition.
“If so, then you’re practically a god, too,” Corinne concluded as each word dripped off her tongue.
“So long as you worship none but me with your body, I will be your god,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed. “You realize that’s blasphemous.”
He shrugged. He did not believe as she did, but neither would he dismiss her faith. She would cling to it or relinquish it as she needed. “You will find no churches, temples, mosques, or synagogues in fae lands, although you may find shrines to honor ancestors and powerful spirits.”
She nodded and wondered if a request to build a shrine or even a small chapel would be amiss. After all, if he could build a fortress from a mountain in mere months, then surely he could build a personal chapel in which she could pray. She put the idea in the back of her mind for later attention.
They rode, mostly in companionable silence. The fae horses stepped lightly over brick roads and dirt paths, across grassy meadows and through dappled forests. Beneath the towering canopy of deciduous and coniferous trees, even the call of birds seemed muted and hushed. Corinne’s breath caught in her chest when she saw the white flash of a deer’s tail and the white and brown striped hide of something large and graceful flitting through the brush. Shadowy movement accompanied by the mottled hide of a leopard caught her eye and she urged her mount closer to Uberon’s.
“Uh, Uberon?”
“I see it, beloved. It recognizes me and will not attack.”
“It recognizes you?”
“Aye. Beasts sense power and have intelligence enough not to confront it.”
“I hear a subtle condemnation for humans in that statement, don’t I?”
He said nothing, which served as sufficient confirmation as far as Corinne was concerned.
“I thought so.”
“I killed a man who would have preyed upon you,” he then said. “No bear, no lynx, no badger in your state park approached you, but a man with evil in his mind and heart ignored your power. He laid his trap and reveled in his plan to hurt you.”
“I would have protected myself.”
“Perhaps, if you were conscious when he took your body.”
“What do you mean?”
“He intended to drug you, rape you, perhaps kill you. He did not see your power, only your beauty and his obsession.”
“So, you killed him.”
“Aye. Even if he had not targeted you, I would have killed him for the evil he visited upon other women, even young girls.”
Corinne shivered with dread. How could she not have known evil stalked her? She’d known for days that Uberon stalked her. She wanted to ask how such a predator could have escaped law enforcement, but knew that very clever criminals could do just that and did more frequently than anyone wanted to consider. She remembered writing a blog article on famous unsolved murders and knew that many more, not-so-famous crimes remained unsolved.
“Do not fret, beloved. I protected you then, I shall protect you forever more.”
She believed him and wondered if her special talents, which seemed so amazing back home, amounted to little more than party tricks among the fae.
They stopped for the night at an inn that reminded Corinne of a medieval bed and breakfast, if folks in the Middle Ages had such things. The innkeeper and his wife—mate?—greeted them with wary respect and prompt service.
“My boy will take good care of your fine horses, my lord,” the innkeeper promised as an adolescent boy loped toward them to take the reins.
Corinne’s knees buckled as she slid from the saddle.
“I’ve got you,” Uberon said softly as he caught her about the waist and held her close. He directed his silver gaze toward the innkeeper who flinched. “A moment, good sir, while my mate gathers her strength.”
The man—no, male—bowed, his white hair falling forward to reveal the pointed tips of his long ears. Corinne blinked, then realized the open collar of his shirt revealed a thin band of copper engraved into the skin around his throat. She glanced at the innkeeper’s mate and saw the female wore a matching collar.
“Seelie fae, lower House,” Uberon murmured into her ear. “A mated pair with the blessing of children.”
Her gloved finger tips touched the silver and black diamonds peeking from the collar of her cloak.
“Aye, they know us for highborn, though they do not yet suspect who I am.”
“And if they did?” Corinne asked, not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer to that question either.
“They’d fear for their lives,” he answered in a flat tone.
Corinne felt a moment’s sympathy for her mate whom nearly everyone feared, whether he deserved their terror or not.
“Do not pity me, beloved. I am not kind and seldom merciful.”
She sighed and held her tongue because she did not know what to say.
“Can you stand now?”
His arm around her loosened and Corinne’s legs held steady.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Good.” Uberon again looked at the innkeeper who turned pale under the former Unseelie king’s icy regard.
“You … you are Unseelie,” the innkeeper’s mate stammered, her hand rising to her throat.
“No longer Unseelie,” Uberon said. “My mate and I journey to a new home.”
The innkeeper glanced at the direction from which they had come. “You do not appear Daimónio Refstófae and the Erlking permits no highborn fae permanent residence in his territory.”
“Do you serve me willingly or not?” Uberon asked, his voice low and menacing.
The innkeeper’s mate pressed her lips together in a thin line of fearful disapproval and she tugged on the innkeeper’s sleeve in silent plea to say nothing more that might give offense. But the male drew himself to his full height and summoned his courage.
“Vow you visit no ill upon us and I shall serve you willingly.”
Uberon
nodded once. “I intend no ill toward you or yours. I merely seek a good meal and a good night’s rest for myself and my mate. Visit no malice upon me or mine and your safety and well-being are guaranteed until I depart.”
“Welcome, my lord.”
The innkeeper bowed and his mate curtsied before leading them into their home. Uberon ordered a hot bath to be followed by a hot meal as their hosts’ son carried up their saddlebags. Corinne bit her tongue against a groan of discomfort as she climbed a tall flight of stairs to the chamber assigned to them. Uberon murmured that he would give her a moment of privacy while he set wards to ensure the inn’s protection. She nodded, looked around the room, and sniffed. Other than the lingering odor of wood smoke, the place smelled clean. She glanced at the bed and decided to take no chances.
Corinne flattened her palm against the mattress and released a cascade of electric pulses to zap any vermin living within the straw ticking or the bed linens. The chamber door opened to admit the boy with three more young males who carried in a wooden tub. For a moment she wondered why a wooden tub, then shook her head at herself. The fae avoided iron. They wouldn’t subject their delicate skin to the caustic burn of a steel tub.
The boys each bowed to her before slipping away on booted feet to soon return with buckets filled with steaming water. In steady succession they filled the tub until the last boy brought up an armful of folded towels and a cake of soap.
“Summon us when you are ready and we’ll remove the bath, my lady,” the oldest boy said before they all tromped from the room to give her privacy.
Corinne rummaged through the saddlebags that had hung from her palfrey’s saddle and pulled out a lightweight wrapper. Setting it close to the tub, she stripped and got into the water. The polished surface of the wood offered no splinters, so she relaxed. After a few minutes, she washed, then stood to rinse her body from a bucket of cool water that made her gasp as its tepid contents contrasted with the luxurious warmth of the water in the tub. She made use of a towel and got to work washing her hair.