“I am, aren’t I?” My hand brushed along one of the chairs, the soft velvet gliding under the tips of my fingers. “Or do you, Goran, and Travil cuddle? I’ll bet you’re the middle spoon.”
His gaze flashed up from under his lashes. “Sorry to disappoint. They have connecting rooms on either side of me.” He went back to his documents.
Of course they did. They would keep the King surrounded and protected from other patrons and threats.
“You’re hilarious. Anyone ever tell you that?” I shook my head, roaming to the bar, where I found a basket of ground coffee, chocolate, whiskey, and sea salt and vinegar crisps. This was what he asked for? Not terribly demanding, I had to admit. For a king.
“All the time,” he replied dryly.
I opened a bag of chips, shoving one in my mouth. The tang of the vinegar seeped onto my tongue, and I groaned happily. It reminded me of home, making me nostalgic for the rolling green hills of Ireland.
Lars closed his file and looked up at me, his demeanor shifting. “I’ve been patient with you, Ms. Cathbad.” He wrapped his fingers around the top of the curved back chair at the desk. “It is time you told me where the cauldron is.”
My teeth scraped against each other as I tossed the rest of the bag of crisps to the side. “I’m starving.” I strolled to the window, peering out at the gorgeous view of the city, rubbing my rumbling stomach. Crisps were good, but I needed food. “I have to say your staff on the plane were less than stellar. I didn’t even get a bag of peanuts.”
Lars watched me, the atmosphere thickening with his annoyance.
“Though you sure got yours.” I lifted an eyebrow, ready to play back. “Or really, she got hers.”
A cloud of fury billowed off him, and his attention grew more intense when I smiled with self-satisfaction.
“Do you think yourself so untouchable?” His words came out composed, but the green in his eyes flickered with darkness.
“Yes.” I held his stare, pressing my shoulders back. “You need something from me. You’re so bloody desperate for it you can’t even think straight. So, yes, right now. I am untouchable.”
Lars was in my face in an instant; the air didn’t even have time to react. The force from his body slammed against mine, shuffling me back. Forcing my feet to hold their ground, I inhaled deeply and stared up at him in defiance.
“For this moment only. However, tonight you will take me to it. Do not forget I still hold a card you do not want me to play, Ms. Cathbad.” He leaned in, his voice low and husky, limiting even more of my oxygen. “A little girl waits back at home for you.”
The thump of my heart echoed in my ears.
“I think we can drop the pretense.” I matched his tone and body language and pushed against his body, trying to ignore the way my muscles twitched. It felt like being close to an electrical fence. He didn’t move a millimeter, his breath curling down my neck. Smugness glazed his eyes; he understood me perfectly. We both knew he was going to dispose of me the moment I was no longer useful. I was too much of a threat to him. Weirdly, I found great pride in that. I was up at his level then.
“Take. Me. To. The. Cauldron. Druid.”
“Food. First. Demon.” I didn’t back down an inch, my jaw cracking with force.
Time halted, waiting for the first one of us to act. Black rushed through his chartreuse eyes like a wave coming to shore then receding. His head tilted to the side as he observed me. The line between the King and demon was thin, and he gave no sign of which way he was going. Mercy or reprimand? It was what caused him to be so frightening.
Slowly a grin tugged up his mouth, a chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he tipped his head back. I went on defense, stepping back, my body curling forward ready for an attack.
Lars only laughed louder, causing my heart to patter like raindrops on a roof. His laughing or smiling generated unease in me. He was a ruthless leader. Not a…man. Humor, heart, or even a personality? No. It didn’t mesh with the monster before me. In that same laugh, he could literally cause my head to blow up without even touching me.
“Fine. Dinner first.” He chuckled, turning back for the desk.
“What?” My mouth dipped open, peering around for something else to jump out and attack me.
Lars reached for the internal phone on the desk. “Yes, Lucia. Can you make reservations at the restaurant?” He paused. “Yes, thank you.” He hung up.
I still hadn’t moved. The swift change in his mood threw me off center.
“You certainly can’t go to dinner in that, Ms. Cathbad.” He set down the receiver and raked his gaze over me through his dark long lashes.
“Excuse me?” I peered down at myself. I was in jeans, riding boots, and a black jumper. Nothing special, but certainly nothing to be snotty over. I had grown up a poor outcast. Kids had thrown rocks at me, pushed, tripped, beat me up, and called me every name in the book. Nothing cut me more than when I went to primary school and kids teased me because I was wearing something Olwyn had gotten secondhand, something these kids had given away.
I was proud of who I’d become, of Olwyn. But it didn’t mean those old wounds ever went away. I could feel the burn of old humiliations crawling up my neck.
“I’m not a doll. I don’t dress up for anyone. This is me. How I dress,” I snapped. “Nor do I want to go to some snobby restaurant where you get one carrot and a bit of some decorated ram balls and call it gourmet.”
Lars’s eyebrows drew up, a ghost of a smile haunting his mouth again. “Please don’t tell me you came all the way to Prague and want to eat at McDonald’s.”
“Could your frickin’ nose be any higher?” I scoffed, curling my arms at my chest. “What’s wrong with McDonald’s? Just because you were born with a silver spoon doesn’t mean the rest of us were. It was a special treat for me when I was a kid. We couldn’t afford it, but on exceedingly rare occasions Olwyn and I would go into the city to get new herbs, and she would splurge.”
My lids blinked back the emotion those memories brought up. Her loss still so fresh, I almost forgot she was really gone. I turned, looking out the window at the castle in the distance.
Lars strolled around the desk, a couple meters away from me. “Okay. You pick the place then.”
My neck jerked back to him in shock. “Really?”
“Yes. Any place you want.”
My forehead crinkled, watching him. He was hard to look at for a long time; his beauty and sex appeal were like incense, covering up the stench of rational thoughts.
I wrinkled my nose at his tailor-made, pricey suit. “Well, you certainly can’t go to dinner in that.”
~~
“I cannot believe you are going to make me eat this.” Lars picked up his Quarter Pounder, twisting it between his fingers as if he were trying to find an entrance.
“You have to try McDonald’s once in your life. The fact it’s taken you this long…” I slurped at my milkshake, shaking my head. I twisted on the stool seats we sat on, bringing me quickly back to my youth. “Pitiful. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“That is what I should be ashamed of?” He scoffed, his chest filling out his fitted T-shirt even more. Not that I was staring, but when someone who wears suits every day switches to jeans, combat boots, and a black T-shirt, it’s a dramatic shift. I could tell he was built under his fine garbs, but now? Holy shite. The shirt wasn’t skintight, but he appeared so muscular through the chest, arms, and shoulders, it conformed to him, like it wanted to hug his body too.
Too? I didn’t want to hug his body. Absolutely not. Phhhhfffttt.
“Come on.” I nudged him with my elbow. “I promise it won’t kill you.” I took another pull of shake, mumbling, “Yet.”
He sniggered, inhaling his breath as if he were about to plunge off a bridge, and opened his mouth, taking a huge bit of the hamburger. Sauce and chunks of tomato squeezed out the other side, dripping on the wax paper. He leaned over, his jaw working the enormous mouthful.
“Damn. You didn’t have to take such a big of bite.” I snorted, covering my mouth with my hand as I continued to laugh at him. Both corners of his mouth were covered with sauce. Lips together, he grinned, making him look like a little boy. Happy. Carefree. Despite myself, I smiled too.
He chewed the burger then swallowed. Wiping his mouth, he placed the rest down, which wasn’t much.
“So?” I leaned forward.
“Nothing in that being even remotely healthy or really could be considered food.”
“Besides that.” I swished my hand.
“Then not so bad.”
“Ha!” I punched my arms up into the air in victory.
He waggled his head, a grin growing over his features, lighting his eyes.
“Okay, now fries dipped in milkshake.” I pinched the fried food between my fingers and plunged them into my vanilla milkshake, tossing them into my mouth, the salty sweet exploding over my taste buds. I tipped my head back with a happy grunt.
I felt Lars’s eyes on me, searing my skin like meat on a grill. My gaze danced to his two minions a table over. Goran and Travil both looked disgusted and angry they were being forced to eat here. Goran kept sniffing his burger as though he couldn’t figure out what it was. Travil ate, but his glower danced between the food and me.
They didn’t say a word, but on the entire walk over, I sensed their opposition to my dinner plans. They also hated that Lars agreed to walk to the restaurant. However, my legs ached to stretch after being stuck in a cell for weeks and then a plane, and my skin desired the fresh air.
As the leader of DLR, I had always been extremely aware of my surroundings, of possible threats and attacks. My intuition was strong and magic was always ready on my tongue. The entire stroll over, I felt nothing but the energy of tourists and locals going on with their day. But Lars had suddenly stopped, his head snapping to a cluster of people gathering around the castle.
“What?” I stopped. My attention danced between him and the group. He didn’t respond, his body tense and rigid, like a setter dog primed on a pheasant. A snake coiled in my stomach seeing the splash of alarm in Lars’s eyes. Nothing seemed to ever rattle the King. But for an instant, that was exactly how he appeared.
“Sir?” Goran came up to his side, finally breaking Lars from his trance.
He shook his head. “I thought I saw something... But it’s impossible.” He rubbed at his temples, rolling back his shoulders, returning to his kingly demeanor.
“You have not been sleeping, my liege,” Goran said.
“I’m sure that’s all it is,” Lars replied and started to walk again, his firm stride pushing away whatever had concerned him with every step.
The sound of the top of Lars’s drink popping off turned my attention back to him. He poked a fry in his chocolate drink, eating it with a shrug. “Interesting.”
“You should have ordered the vanilla, as I recommended,” I scolded him.
“But I enjoy chocolate more.”
“So do I…but not with fries. Always vanilla with fries. That’s rule one.” I scooped another fry into the vanilla cream and held it out to him. “Trust me.”
“I didn’t know McDonald’s came with a rulebook.”
“Oh, fledgling, I have so much to teach you.”
Lars chuckled, taking the fry from me and dropping it on his tongue. He nodded. “You’re right. Vanilla is better with fries.”
“I know I’m right. About time you figured it out.” I swung forward in my seat with a wink. Lars, let out a full, deep laugh. It was as though a tsunami crashed down on me.
What was I doing laughing with this man? Lars was my enemy. The dictator I was trying to bring down. This man was going to kill me and would keep my child from me. He was also damn sure going to destroy the world with his need to be the most powerful. The King who killed and looked the other way at a Druid genocide was hard to see in the man next to me laughing and joking. Eating frickin’ McDonald’s.
You’re playing him, Fi. Just as he’s doing to you. This a game. Do not forget it. My appetite was gone; my stomach rolled into itself. I wiped my hands on the cheap paper napkins, tossing them down on my tray. I could sense he felt the swing in my mood.
Lars cleared his throat, his spine straightening. His relaxed nature dissolved back into the tough skin of a king. “The sun has set.” He reached for his thigh-length, classic wool jacket on the empty stool next to him, putting it on as he stood. “It’s time.”
Staring at my tray, I nodded, lost in thought, shoving back the mounting terror in my gut.
“Now.”
I grabbed my jacket and beanie, the early spring in Prague still quite chilly, especially after sunset.
Unfortunately, things were going to get a whole lot colder, really fast.
Chapter Twelve
Lars
The last rays of the sun clung desperately to the top of the green dome of St. Nicholas Church as if they were clamoring to stay while being tugged away by the encroaching night. The narrow cobble street I stepped onto was already heavy in shadows.
I flipped up the collar of my navy coat as the temperature slid away with the last bit of sun. The incident earlier, when I thought I saw something impossible, still danced along my neck. For a moment, I was able to push it away, actually enjoy dinner, which I hadn’t in a very long time. The deaths of Koke and Maya, the loss of Rez and Ember in the house, had made my own home feel the same as an oubliette—cold, empty, holding past echoes of laughter that had once occupied the house, just to torture me.
My obsession with obtaining the treasures kept me from acknowledging a truth I did not want to face. One I had no use for on my rise to the throne, because when you’re young and determined, you don’t worry about loneliness, which is merely a weakness. I might have still thought the same if Ember had never walked into my life. The moment Rimmon brought the unconscious girl through my door, I knew in my soul she was my daughter.
Pain jabbed my heart and forced me to take a deep breath. I had been such a fool. I had everything and I gave it away because I thirsted for more power. If I had only known hunger was contrived. I gave up everything I ever needed and turned the woman I loved to my brother and missed out on so much of my own child’s life.
I made choices and had to live with them, but lately those choices had come back to haunt me. Almost as though Devlin had come back to torment me.
Buttoning up my coat, I shoved the thoughts back, twisting to face the girl who stood stubbornly between what I wanted and me.
“You said Prague. Now, where in Prague?” I stretched my shoulders, letting my size loom over her. Intimidation, conscious or subconscious, was a strong weapon. “And if you lie to me or waste my time trying to stall…” I leaned down into her face. Her features tightened, her nose flaring with defiance. My gaze dropped to a speck of salt resting on her bottom lip.
My arm rose with an overwhelming need to brush it off with my thumb. Stop, my brain ordered. I rolled my fist into a ball, forcing it back down to my side. Her eyes followed my hand, then went back to my face, her brow furrowing.
Gradually a smirk hitched her lips. “You think hitting me is going to get you what you want?” Hitting? She thought I was going to hit her? “You don’t think I’ve been hit before?” Anger from her statement caught me off guard, filling me with the need to track down those who had struck her, even kill them. “I might be little and may resemble a great candidate for a bully to take out their anger on…” She moved in closer, her words more brusque. “They couldn’t break me…and you certainly won’t either.”
“Someone hit you?” The question came out before I realized I was talking.
Her dark eyebrows crinkled again. “What do you care?”
I jolted back, reaching my full height.
“You’ve strangled me with your magic, chained me up, held me prisoner, and used my innocent five-year-old as leverage against me. Now, please, tell me why you give a rat’s arse if I’ve been s
lapped around before?”
I stared at her. I had no idea. Why did I care? “I don’t,” I sneered. “But do not act as though you are so innocent, Ms. Cathbad. You sent a missile into a hotel room, slaughtered people, and almost killed the rest of us, including your sister. You have murdered and tortured hundreds of fae. Sent strighoul to strike my compound and kidnapped an innocent human, one of my own. A woman so kind she still would not let me feed you gruel as I wanted.” I clenched my teeth. “And you’ve attacked me. On several occasions.”
“I am sorry for Marguerite.” She nipped her bottom lip. “She’s one I do regret.”
“And the others?”
Fionna’s huge brown eyes met mine. “The others…not at all.”
A rumble came from my chest.
“Don’t give me that,” she scoffed. “Like you would have done any different or felt remorse for your actions in any way. I was only doing what you fae do best…protecting my own.” She whirled to walk away, but I reached out and grabbed her arm, flinging her back to face me.
“I never attacked or killed your people.”
Fury boiled in her eyes like molten liquid. “You never stopped it either,” she spat. “What is worse? The ones who blatantly cause genocide or the ones who stay quiet and look the other way, letting it happen?” She yanked her arm from my hold. “At least I knew where Aneira stood. You? Where do you stand, Lars? Besides by yourself.”
Fionna whipped around, marching down the lane, her boots heavy on the stone. Folks on the street parted and moved out of the way of the force bowling through them.
“She will not speak to you that way.” Goran plowed forward, looking as though he was going to grab her and drag her back by her hair.
“Leave it.” My words stopped him in his tracks. He whipped his head between the fleeing outline of the Druid and me.
“But, sir.”
“I said leave it.”
His mouth dipped open in either shock or rebuttal, but he snapped it shut with a firm nod and started to follow her trail.
The Fall Of The King (Lightness Saga Book 3) Page 7