Cruel Enchantment

by Bast, Anya

  “Just move, woman. Do it.”

  EMMALINE was almost naked and kneeling on the cold, hard floor of the little house. Her mind kept threatening to shut down, flipping back to her adolescence and young adulthood, and she kept fighting it tooth and nail. She couldn’t lose it now. To lose it now would mean her death.

  Still, kneeling there shivering in front of the man she feared most in the world, it was very, very difficult not to escape into the recesses of her mind where she could find safety, as she had so many times before. When she was younger it had been the memory of her parents—warm and alive—who had occupied that safe corner of her mind. Now it was Aeric who resided there.

  The material of the beautiful gray dress ripped a little more. Lars sighed in contentment, his boots shuffling on the floor as he moved around her. He was unwrapping her like a Christmas present, though one didn’t normally cut into the flesh of the gift being revealed and watch in fascination as the blood welled and trickled down its bare skin.

  Emmaline squeezed her eyes shut and was grateful for her loose hair shadowing her face. She needed courage now.

  “Stand,” he ordered roughly, yanking her up by the arm.

  “I remember you,” Lars said in a low voice. “When you were first given to me to shape according to the queen’s request. You rested in my hand like the finest piece of wood, so smooth, so easily malleable. It was a pleasure to take my knife to your psyche and carve you to fit the curve of my palm.”

  Flashes of memory flooded her mind’s eye, beat against her emotions. Lars’s face, greasy and dirt streaked, not far from hers while the queen looked on. . . . The feel of cold steel against her flesh when she was punished for disobeying.

  His fingers bit into her waist and she realized she was swaying on her feet, lost in some goddamned nightmare of recollection in her head. Her hands were freed from the cuffs and he was taking his time stripping the rest of the dress off her.

  Now.

  Her chance was now. If she didn’t take it, all would be lost.

  She whimpered deep in the back of her throat and Lars laughed, confident of his mastery over her. Unfortunately, unlike her screaming with Will, this whimper was no ruse.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Strength. She had to find it. Where? Where was it?

  His fingers stroked her skin and she flinched away from him. No, she couldn’t dwell in the past anymore, she couldn’t hide from it, and she definitely couldn’t relive it.

  This needed to stop. It was time to break the chains. Then break Lars.

  She whirled, bringing her foot up around hard and fast. Caught in the solar plexus, he flew backward into the wall, completely taken by surprise. She lunged for one of the tables, not seeing containers of chemicals, but weapons. Selecting one at random, and hoping it would injure, she turned and threw the contents directly into Lars’s face.

  Lars howled, scratching at his eyes while he sprawled on the floor. She ran for the door but found it locked and without a key. Frantic, she went for the window—same thing. Swearing under her breath, she grabbed a chair and threw it, breaking the glass. She was so desperate to get away from Lars, she didn’t even care about having to climb over the jagged shards that remained around the edges.

  Before she could hoist herself out, Lars grabbed her around the middle and hauled her backward.

  And now he was pissed.

  ARMING himself with a charmed iron hatchet, small enough to fit up the sleeve of his shirt, a pair of handcuffs, and several wickedly sharp blades, Aeric got on his motorcycle and headed out toward the Water Wastes.

  He eschewed taking any Shadow Guard for two reasons. The first and primary reason was that he couldn’t trust any of them. He wasn’t sure who held a grudge against Emmaline and who didn’t, and he couldn’t trust them not to lie about it when he asked them. Pick the wrong ones and they could be more a hindrance than a help. The second reason was that a hundred boots tromping on the ground near Lars’s house would make Lars flee. One pair of stealthily moving boots, wielding weapons meant to take off his head without warning. . . now that would be effective.

  Given, of course, that the monster was taking his prize back to his lair to have his disgusting way with her. If he wasn’t taking her there . . . Aeric stopped that line of thought. Piefferburg was a big place. Lots of room to hide.

  The trees of the Boundary Lands began to whip past him as he reached the outer limits of Piefferburg City. Beyond that stretch of woods lay the great expanse of Piefferburg itself. It more resembled Europe of old than it did the United States, as far as Aeric could tell from what he saw on television. Dotted through with small villages filled with houses of varying sizes with curved clay shingled roofs, and fae places of worship, it was all connected by farmland, narrow roads, and even smaller hamlets. Clutches of particular types of fae lived in the hills, or near the ocean, depending on their nature. The Water Wastes were sparsely populated. That was near the edge of Piefferburg that gave over dominion to the sea fae—the selkie, the anjia, the sirens, and the rest.

  Accelerating as fast as his bike would go, he settled in to attempting to make a three-hour drive a three-minute one.

  It was almost full dark by the time Aeric reached the edge of the Water Wastes. The witch had played with various potions and powders in a vat in one of her back rooms until she’d come forth with an approximate area.

  He prayed it was accurate. He was running out of time. His only hope was that Lars wouldn’t do so much damage to Emmaline that he couldn’t put her back together again.

  As for Lars, he had every intention of taking him completely apart. Piece by agonizing piece.

  He parked his bike where the land began to give way to marsh and swamp. From there he was forced to continue on foot. Moving by the light of the moon, his boots sticking in the mucky land, it took him a good hour to find the wood and ancient cottage that the witch had described.

  The moon was full tonight and the sky was clear, the silvery light shining down and bathing the world in natural magic. On any other night, it would have been beautiful.

  Light flickered from inside the building, the inconstant kind made by an oil lamp or a candle. His heart rate sped up. Thank Goibhniu the witch had directed him to the right place.

  Armed with as much charmed iron as he could carry, he strode up to the front door and kicked it in, his stomach clenched with worry about what he would find inside.

  The place was empty, but it probably hadn’t been for long. There were signs of a struggle—broken furniture, spilled bottles of chemicals, a shattered window. Obviously Lars hadn’t scared all the fight out of Emmaline.

  Then he spied the strips of gray silk on the floor and his breath caught in his throat. He knelt and picked one up, seeing that it was streaked with blood. Strands of her long dark hair were mixed with the scraps of her dress.

  Dropping the fabric, he whirled and ran out of the house, looking for any clue as to where she might be. There wasn’t much light to see by, but outside the mud showed deep indentations, maybe made by someone running.

  He followed the only clue he had into a scrubby wood where the light was even dimmer due to the cover of the trees. There he looked for broken branches—anything that could help him find her.

  In the distance, someone screamed.

  Emmaline.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  HE raced toward the sound, jumping over obstacles in his path and allowing branches to pull at his clothing and scrape his face and arms.

  As he neared the source of the scream, he heard sounds of a struggle. In a nearby clearing filled with silvery moonlight he found them. Emmaline knelt in the mud, her head bowed. Her loose hair hung tangled around her face and shoulders and her dress was in tatters, revealing large swathes of her creamy skin. Her chest seemed to be heaving, as though she’d been exerting herself and was now exhausted.

  Lars stood near her, his chest also heaving. Ah, so Emmaline wasn’t going down without a fight. Aeric had expected
as much. She was fierce and he was proud of her. He knew she wasn’t going down at all. Over his dead body.

  He moved his wrist and the head of his hatchet fell into his cupped palm, the charmed iron cool against his immune skin. One more drop and he had the handle in his hand, the blade of the hatchet gleaming sharp and ready in the moonlight.

  He stepped into the clearing in the same moment that Lars made a move for Emmaline. She gave an enraged battle cry, leapt to her feet, and spun on her heel, taking Lars in the throat. He gagged and fell backward into the mud.

  “Emmaline!”

  She turned from her defensive position in front of Lars, spotted Aeric, and gave a sound of deep relief. He stepped toward her and she started for him. That was when Lars—whom he’d thought incapacitated—moved.

  “Watch out!” he yelled, but it was too late.

  Lars took her from behind, putting her in a choke hold. She gagged and her hands flew to his imprisoning arm, scratching at him as she tried to get some air.

  Lars leveled a stare at Aeric. “Come any closer and I’ll break her—”

  Aeric threw his hatchet. It hit Lars in the head with a wet thunk. Immediately he fell backward into the mud, freeing Emmaline, who went down on her knees, her hand to her throat.

  Aeric raced to help her. She rose and collapsed into his arms. Dirty, bloody—but alive. “We’ve been fighting, Lars and I, for the last hour at least. He’s strong. Danu, I miss my crossbow.”

  “You’re safe now. It’s all over. He’s dead.”

  Her knees sagged and all the breath went out of her. “It’s over,” she whispered. She looked down at Lars’s body. “It’s really over. Finally.” His unseeing eyes stared up at the moon, ax blade stuck in his head. “Get me out of here. Get me as far from this place as you can.”

  HE took her to the birch ladies, which was the place of safety closest to them. Emmaline was exhausted—physically and especially emotionally. She’d probably been too exhausted from her battle to ride on the back of the bike, but the only other available vehicle had been Lars’s truck and she’d wanted no part of that other than expressing a desire to blow it up.

  So he’d bundled her onto the back and hoped like hell she’d be all right for the long ride.

  Aurora let them use one of the cottages in the Boundary Lands. Aeric laid Emmaline on the bed, where she immediately closed her eyes.

  “Will she be all right?” Aurora’s brow furrowed with concern.

  Aeric gazed at Emmaline. She had her arm curled protectively over her abdomen and was turned slightly on her side, facing away from them. Mud and blood marked her all over. “She’ll be fine now. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure of that.”

  “I know you will.” She smiled at him and retreated, leaving him alone with her.

  While Emmaline slept, he ran a bath for her and started a dinner from the contents of the cupboards and fridge.

  “I’ve always wanted a man who could cook.”

  He turned to find her behind him, wrapped in a blanket from the bed. Her hair was tangled, blood marked her chin and cheek, and a bruise was blooming on her forehead. She looked beautiful to him all the same.

  She looked like his future.

  He pulled her to him and she melted against his chest. His arms tightened around her and he kissed the top of her head. “I will cook for you every night for the rest of your life if you want.”

  She laughed, a tired and rough sound against his chest. “Sounds good to me.”

  He held her away from him so he could look into her eyes. “Good, because I love you, Emmaline. I want you to stay with me.”

  “I love you, too, Aeric. I think a part of me has loved you for the last three centuries and change.”

  “That’s a good thing for a man’s ego, you know.”

  She laughed again. “And you don’t need any help.”

  He pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. “No, all I need is you.”

  Dear readers,

  Curious where Piefferburg is located?

  Visit my website for an interactive map:

  www.anyabast.com

  GLOSSARY

  Abastor The mystic black stallion that leads the Wild Hunt.

  Alahambri Language the goblins speak.

  Black Tower A large building on one end of Piefferburg Square that is constructed of black quartz. This houses the Unseelie Court.

  Book of Bindings Book created when the Phaendir and the fae were allied. The most complete book of spells known. Contains the spell that can break the warding around Piefferburg.

  bosca fadbh Puzzle box consisting of three interlocking pieces. Once was an object owned by both the Phaendir and the fae, back when they weren’t enemies. When all three pieces are united, it forms a key to unlock part of the Book of Bindings.

  Boundary Lands The area where the wilding fae live.

  ceantar dubh Dark district. This is the neighborhood directly abutting the Black Tower.

  ceantar láir Middle district. Fae “suburbia.” Also borders a mostly commercial area of downtown Piefferburg where the troop live and work.

  charmed iron Iron spelled to take away a fae’s magick when it touches the skin. Used in prisons as handcuffs and by the Imperial and Shadow Guards, it’s illegal for the general fae population to possess it. Charmed iron weapons were a major reason the fae lost in the war against the Milesians and Phaendir in ancient Ireland.

  Danu The primary goddess of the Tuatha Dé Danann, both Seelie and Unseelie. Also followed by some other fae races. Danu is accompanied by a small pantheon of lesser gods.

  Furious Host Those who follow the Lord of the Wild Hunt every night to collect the souls of the fae who have died and to help ferry them to the Netherworld.

  Goblin Town The area of Piefferburg where the goblins live. The goblins are a fae race that has customs that differ greatly from the other types of fae.

  Goibhniu (Go-ive-nu) Celtic god of blacksmiths, brewers, and weapon makers.

  Great Sweep When the Phaendir, allied with the human race, hunted down, trapped, and imprisoned all known fae and contained them in Piefferburg.

  Humans for the Freedom of the Fae (HFF) An organization of humans working for equal fae rights and the dismantling of Piefferburg.

  iron sickness The illness, eventually fatal, that occurs when charmed iron is pressed against the flesh of a fae for an extended period of time.

  Joining Vows Ancient, magick-laced vows that twine two souls together. Not often used in modern fae society because of the commitment involved.

  Jules Piefferburg Original human architect of Piefferburg. The statue honoring him in Piefferburg Square is made of charmed iron and can’t be taken down, so the fae constantly dishonor it in other ways, like dressing it up disrespectfully or throwing food at it.

  Labrai The god the Phaendir follow.

  Netherworld Where the fae go after they die.

  Old Maejian The original tongue of the fae. It’s a dead language to all except those who are serious about practicing magick.

  Orna The primary goddess of the goblins. Accompanied by many lesser gods.

  Phaendir (“Fane-dear”) A race of druids whose origins remain murky. The common belief of the fae is that their genetic line sprang from them. The Phaendir believe they’ve always been a separate—superior—race. Once allied with the fae, they’re now mortal enemies.

  Piefferburg (“Fife-er-berg”) Square Large cobblestone square with a statue of Jules Piefferburg in the center and the Rose and Black Towers on either end.

  Rose Tower Made of rose quartz, this building sits at one end of Piefferburg Square and houses the Seelie Court.

  Seelie (“Seal-ee”) Highly selective, they allow only the Tuatha Dé Danann into their ranks. Members must have a direct bloodline to the original ruling Seelie of ancient Ireland and their magick must be light and pretty.

  Shadow Amulet The one who wears the amulet holds the Shadow Throne, though the amulet might rejec
t someone without the proper bloodline. It sinks into the wearer’s body, imbuing him or her with power and immortality, leaving only a tattoo on the skin to mark its physical presence.

  Shadow Royal Holder of the Unseelie Throne.

  Sídhe (“Shee”) Another name for the Tuatha Dé Danann (Irish) fae, both Seelie and Unseelie.

  Summer Ring Like the Shadow Amulet of the Unseelie Royal, this piece of jewelry imbues the wearer with great power and immortality. It also sinks into the skin, leaving only a tattoo, and may reject the wearer at will. This ring determines who holds the Seelie Throne.

  Summer Royal Holder of the Seelie Throne.

  trooping fae Those fae who are not a part of either court and are not wilding or water fae.

  Tuatha Dé Danann (“Thoo-a-haw Day Dah-nawn”) The most ancient of all races on earth, the fae. They were evolved and sophisticated when humans still lived in caves. Came to Ireland in the ancient times and overthrew the native people. The Seelie Tuatha Dé ruled the other fae races. When the Milesians (a tribe of humans in ancient Ireland) allied with the Phaendir and defeated the fae, the fae had to agree to go underground. They disappeared from all human knowledge, becoming myth.