The Fall Of The King (Lightness Saga Book 3)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  “There are new clothes for you in the bathroom. Be ready to go in ten minutes.” He strode from the room, putting the phone to his ear. “Update,” he said into the cell before he hit the stairs and padded down to the main floor.

  I leaned into the wall, exhaling, still holding my hurt shoulder. I had to admit it had been a while since I’d been so challenged. My skill in Druid magic and the black arts had kept me separate from everyone. Not many fae or other Druids had rivaled me in any way. Lars would keep me sharp. Focused.

  The hum of my healing spell warmed my arm as it shot up my shoulder and took the throbbing pain away. It still was sore, but I wiggled it out, feeling my shoulder slip back in its socket.

  Lars’s voice mumbled from the floor below. This morning had taught me a valuable lesson: not to be caught unprepared. I would be ready next time.

  ~~

  Dressed, I proceeded downstairs. Lars had managed to buy me clothes that fit perfectly: extremely soft dark denim jeans similar to his, a gray tank, and a black, knitted jumper. All of extremely nice quality. At first I was slightly amused, but then I remembered the man had a lot more style than I did. I was a “black stretchy jeans or cargo pants, boots, and old black woolen jumper kind of girl.” The epitome of emo style. Or lack thereof. Growing up, Olwyn tended to buy me shapeless tunics after I put my foot down on getting clothes from the Goodwill. I’d rather be teased for wearing a potato sack than something my fellow students had disposed of.

  My ponytail bounced as I hit the bottom step, boots clomping the wooden floor without any grace.

  “There better be coffee. I get testy without it.” I swung past Lars, who sat at the table reading a paper, his leg up on his knee with such nonchalance, as though the incident of a few minutes ago never happened. The way he held himself sang distinguished, refined, and polished. Along with powerful and confident. He made me feel like such a klutz. Even my walk felt gangly and unpolished next to him. But in my eyes it just made him a priss. Did he even have a clue what it was like to fight for your basic needs? King or not, he was a pampered princess.

  “Is that what you call it? Testy?” He picked up the cup in front of him, taking a sip. The smell of roasting beans tugged me to the kitchen.

  “Next time come to my room with coffee then,” I spouted over my shoulder as I beelined for the coffee pot on the counter. If he responded, I didn’t hear him, too focused on getting the liquid into the largest cup I could find.

  Despite steam warning me the coffee was hot, I slugged some down like a shot. My tongue sizzled as scalding fire dropped down my throat to my stomach.

  “Ahhhh!” I waved my hand in front of my face, as though it was going to help soothe the fire inside my mouth.

  “Couldn’t wait a moment to let it cool, could you?” Lars didn’t even lift his eyes off the paper, while I bounced in my seat, panting similar to a dehydrated animal, poking at my scorched tongue.

  I glared at him, then quickly said my healing spell before my tongue swelled more. The blistering pain diminished, causing my shoulders to lower with relief.

  “Imprudent.” He turned the page.

  “Narcissistic.” I took another sip of coffee, easing back in my chair.

  I could have sworn I saw his lips twitch with a hint of a smile, but he cleared his throat, placing down the newspaper.

  “I secured a helicopter to get us to Scotland.”

  “A helicopter? Can it even fly that far? Their tanks aren’t very big.”

  Only Lars’s eyes moved, peering at me with contempt. “This is a special helicopter.”

  “Of course it is.” My gaze rolled up to the ceiling.

  “We’ll be leaving soon. There is some breakfast in the microwave if you want it.” His chair skated over the floor as he pushed it back and rose. “I have a few more phone calls to make.”

  I nodded, watching him exit down the stairs and out of the house.

  A frazzled laugh hiccupped from my chest as I got up from my chair. We could so easily go from almost killing each other to sitting around and having coffee together, as though everything was fine. I was pretty sure he hadn’t slept, but instead he had obtained us clothes and a helicopter to the UK.

  Tugging the microwave door open, I barked another sharp laugh. Sitting in the middle was an Egg McMuffin. He’d already been to McDonald’s this morning, and it was barely six a.m.

  I took a big bite. I never turned down “free” food. Except this wasn’t free. It came with a very large price tag.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lars

  “Helicopter? Is that what you call this thing?” Fionna gaped at one of my latest inventions. It was patented from an Airbus H series that was never approved commercially. The fall of the barrier stopped most human manufacturing. Cooper and Cole “acquired” the plans for me. My engineers made a few changes to adapt to the new world, and had it ready faster than I expected. It was one of my pride and joys.

  My palms slid over the sleek pointy nose of the machine, stroking it.

  “Men.” She rubbed her forehead with a chuckle.

  “You cannot deny its beauty.”

  “No.” She stepped up to it, running her hand over the smooth metal. “It is pretty.”

  The helicopter was not the normal egg shape. The front of this one resembled the head of a duck or dolphin. The choppers curved like scythes, cutting through the air with ease. The entire thing was made to race through the sky with speed and efficiency resembling a shark in the ocean or a falcon in the sky.

  She peered inside the empty hangar. “Who’s flying us?”

  I smiled, heading for the pilot’s door.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Normally when she cussed it sounded cute and lyrical. It was simple to forget the pint-size girl packed a mighty punch. But today it kept taking me back to the moment on the bridge, when I heard her again. The woman who would forever haunt me. My chest contracted, the sound of Aisling’s voice cutting a fissure in my heart. As much as I wanted to absorb every nuance, it would only give credibility to the hallucinations. I could not allow that.

  After the blood ceremony and situation on the bridge, I had walked through the night, trying to get myself together. As King, I could not give myself any leeway. My focus had to remain fixed on the cauldron. The rest I could file away. I could easily put Ms. Cathbad back in her box by the time I returned to the flat. Whatever magic had twisted my disgust into hunger for her, evolved into anger. She was my prisoner. A Druid. An instrument to use to get what I wanted. This morning I intended to put her in her place again.

  Slipping into the pilot’s seat, I settled in, preparing the helicopter for takeoff. The rotors began to whirl in the air, sweeping Fionna’s loose locks around her face. I couldn’t help but chuckle, watching her bat and wrangle her strands away from her face. She reached for the door, trying to pull it open.

  “Oh. Did I forget to unlock the door?” I yelled innocently toward the window. Her lids narrowed and her mouth tightened, but I could only glimpse her glare for a moment before her hair tried to strangle her again.

  “Lars,” she huffed, wrapping her mop in a bun.

  “So tempting.” I slipped on my headset, the microphone curving around my mouth.

  “I will gladly part ways,” she yelled back. “See how well you do finding your dear treasure without me.” She twisted to walk away.

  I unlocked the door. A haughty smile enveloped her mouth when she turned back around and climbed into the cockpit next to me.

  “I think someone needs more coffee.” She latched her buckle. “Bit snarky today.”

  “You seem to bring it out in me, Druid.” I handed her a headset.

  “Same, demon.” She pushed it onto her head, the earmuffs slipping past her ears, making me laugh.

  “Here.” I reached over. “Lean over.”

  Her body moved close, and she tilted her head to me so I could adjust them to fit her. I brushed her hair off her face, saving a few stran
ds from getting tangled in the set. “There,” I said, my fingers still wrapped in her receiver. Her brown eyes raked over me from under her lashes.

  “Wouldn’t it have been easier to take them off and do that?” Her voice came loudly through my earpiece.

  I dropped my hands away, facing front. “They fit you exactly this way.”

  Clutching the cyclic and collective sticks and pressing my foot pedals, the helicopter began to lift off the launch pad.

  “Holy shite!” Fionna grabbed her seat, excitement beaming on her face.

  “Never been in a helicopter?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure, I call for one whenever I feel like grabbing some caviar in Paris or shopping in Milan.”

  I chuckled, wagging my head back and forth.

  The helicopter lifted past the building. The sun was breaking over the horizon, streaking the town in buttery yellows, vibrant oranges, and tints of blue.

  “Wow.” Fionna leaned forward, taking in the view. “Amazing.”

  “Yeah.” I agreed. “I actually don’t get to fly as much as I’d like. Mornings like this put everything in perspective.”

  She glanced over at me with a strange expression clouding her features.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “You surprise me sometimes.”

  I lifted my eyebrows.

  “Don’t worry, it’s not a compliment.” She waved her hand, trying to hold back a grin. “I didn’t say the surprises were good.”

  I pointed the helicopter in the direction I wanted to go.

  Right back at you, Druid. Right fuckin’ back at you.

  ~~

  As we landed, rain dyed the old stone buildings in Edinburgh almost black, giving the city a macabre, enigmatic feel. It felt alive like one of our old fae books where secrets hid behind every door. All you had to do was give yourself over to its thrall and it revealed those secrets. Some you wished you never learned: tragedy, death, torture, schemes, lies, affairs, murder. The best soap opera in the world could never compare to the tales contained in this city. Magic ran thick here, and the façade vibrated with the mysterious stories it held beneath the surface.

  However, the city that drew tourists was not the original. That was below, where the seedy dwellings of brothels, the poor or sick, and illegal activities operated until they were closed up. The truth hid below the respectable streets, shops, and homes above.

  My brother and I had lived here for many years when we were young men, and those tunnels and seedy ventures had been our lifeblood. Back then, life was good. I missed those simple times.

  “You okay leaving your baby there? What if someone scratches it? Or…horror…rubs it the wrong way with a nappy?” Fionna gasped, covering her mouth in false dismay.

  “It is in the best of care.” Not taking the bait, I flipped through documents my secretary—dammit, what was her name—sent me. I could not neglect my duties at home because I was half a world away. With Ms. Johnson still vulnerable as Seelie Queen, I had to be diligent in making sure everything was running like clockwork.

  “Is that why I had to drag you away, crying and screaming like a toddler?”

  I will admit I may have stroked the helicopter several times and tripled-checked the men watching it would take proper care of it. My private hangar in Edinburgh was top notch, but the airbus was brand new and one of kind.

  “I’m going to find you slipping out at night to secretly visit it, aren’t I?” She turned to stare out the window of the town car as the city rolled past on our way to the hotel.

  We’d only be in Edinburgh one night before we’d journey out to the Highlands. A night to get supplies and force her to give me more evidence on where the cauldron was located. I did not trust she divulged everything to me. The more I learned about her, the more I understood she was a contender in this fae world. Fae never gave over more information than absolutely necessary. It existed in our blood to hide truths and barter in information.

  “Probably,” I replied absently, skimming the last page of a contract.

  She snorted, shifting in her seat. “Are we going to one of your fancy places again?”

  “No, I had, uh…” I teetered off, rolling my lips in frustration. “My secretary rented us a private flat near the Royal Mile. One I use when I come here.”

  “You don’t know her name? Do you?” She drew my attention up to her face, her eyebrows curved in amusement. “That’s awful.”

  “I’ve had many come and go in the last few months,” I growled. “It’s hard to keep track.”

  “Sofia.” Fionna tucked her hair behind one ear, her head waggling.

  “Who’s Sofia?”

  “Your secretary.”

  I blinked. “How did you know her name?”

  “Because I listen and pay attention.” She crossed her legs, sinking deeper into the soft leather seats.

  “Well, I’ve had a lot on my mind,” I grumbled, turning back to my documents. It was a poor excuse. I used to recall the tiniest of details as though I was Sherlock Holmes. You never knew what was important and what could be used down the road.

  My hand traveled up to my forehead and rubbed it roughly. Another sign I had been slipping. Rez’s departure could no longer excuse my lack of organization or rush to fill her spot.

  The driver, Thomas, pulled the car up to the front of an old limestone row of buildings, a mix of medieval, neoclassic, and English Gothic architecture. Alleyways, called closes, connected to Princes Street and the new part of the city like a labyrinth.

  The driver opened my door, and I slid out. “Thank you.” I placed my files in his open hands. “Get these back to Sofia.”

  “Yes, sir.” He bowed and shut my door. I turned around to watch Fionna round the back end of the car.

  “Wow, opening your door was so tough. I can see why you have other people do it for you.” She wiped at her brow.

  I pinched my mouth together and gave Thomas a nod. “We won’t be needing you again. Thank you.”

  He bowed, returning to the driver’s seat. My palm pressed into the Druid’s spine and pushed her down one of the many closes in Edinburgh. She stepped away, glaring at my hand. No, it wasn’t my hand but my control over her she was sneering at. “It does not matter if I’m capable of opening my own door or not. Believe me, I feel it is a waste of time. However, I am King. Some things change when you are a royal, especially in public. There are many traditions I’d prefer not to do, but I must.”

  We walked quietly down the path, reaching the private door. Before I even could grasp for the handle, a familiar plump, fair-haired woman opened the door, curtsying. “Majesty, let me say what an honor it is to have you back.”

  “Thank you, Iona.”

  I had found this location years ago, and it remained the perfect situation for my business dealings. Human seers, Iona and Jacob, owned it. They were the types who knew no personal boundaries, but being the biggest busybodies had come in useful. They were faithful to me and would find out all I needed to know, and at the same time they kept my secrets. I learned to look past their overbearing natures and actually enjoy their warmth and energy.

  Iona stepped back for us to enter, waving us to enter quickly.

  “This is Ms. Cathbad.” I clicked my head at Fionna, my hand returning to her lower back leading her in. A subtle hint at who was dominant. Angering her only was a bonus.

  Iona’s eyes darted to my face then widened, a blush coming over her ivory skin. She clasped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Majesty, I am so happy for you. We had heard you were recently single, and I told Jacob that just wouldn’t do for our King. He’s far too handsome and kind to be alone.”

  “Kind?” Fionna snorted, shooting a bemused look at me.

  Iona didn’t seem to notice, speeding over us like a freight train. “We were wondering when you’d bring a woman here. Oh, you two look so in love.”

  “No—” Both Fionna and I started, but Iona bubbled over us wi
th excitement, snatching Fionna’s hand, looking more as if she wanted to hug her. “It is such an honor to meet you. I am so pleased you are here.” Her words bleated out faster than a shotgun. “Oh, this is so lovely. He’s never brought anyone here before. The previous woman he dated never came. So…don’t you worry; you must be very special.” Iona patted her hand. “Gods, you are so pretty too. Tiny. Need to get some good home-cooked food in you.” She pranced around, looking as if she didn’t know which direction to go, pulling Fionna along with her. “Let me show you around, my dear. I wish I’d known; I would have made it more…” She knocked her shoulder into Fionna’s her eyebrows going up and down. “Romantic.”

  “That’s quite all ri—” Fionna’s eyes were wide, shaking her head.

  “The bathtub is definitely big enough for two.” Iona wiggled her shoulders up and down.

  “Oh gods.” Fionna looked horrified.

  “I’ll be sure to get Jacob to stop by the shop and get the best champagne. Or do you like Scottish whisky as our King does?”

  “Uh—”

  “I’ll have him get both.” Iona swished her hand, leading Fionna up the stairs to the main floor. The Druid looked over her shoulder at me, mouthing what the hell? I rubbed my mouth to stop from laughing at her stunned expression. She had been hit by Tornado Iona.

  I shrugged, enjoying watching her squirm, and followed them up to the main floor. This three-story flat was a unique mix of extremely old medieval—conveying a feeling as though you were part of the underground world below with cobblestone walls and rounded ceilings—to extremely modern. Sliding barn-style doors and rich dark fabrics and textures decorated the bedroom with a gorgeous chandelier hanging over the bed.

  It looked sexy. Sultry. An ideal place to bring your lover for a weekend escape. You would never have to leave the bedroom. But that was not why I chose this place each time. My enjoyment of this flat was a lot seedier.

  “It’s beautiful.” I heard Fionna say when I reached the top. The steep spire of the scorched Scott Monument was visible through the windows, displaying a stunning view of the new town below. On a clear day, you could also see Carlton Hill, but the thick fog hugged close to the earth now. I knew from the bedroom above you could see the castle, High Street, and parts of Princes Street Gardens.