The Fall Of The King (Lightness Saga Book 3)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  I probably should come back here someday for an actual holiday. Vacation. A word I no longer understood. I had never been good at relaxing. But lately I couldn’t deny I felt tired, and I wanted to slow down for a moment.

  Fionna finally reclaimed her hand, but Iona was far from letting her go. From experience, the only way to get Iona to leave was to suggest I needed to “get to my duties” and still it would take her fifteen minutes to actually go.

  Watching Fionna twitch like she wanted to bolt down the stairs away from this woman, I decided to kill two birds with one stone. Annoy the Druid and get Iona to leave.

  “I’m so glad you like it, FeFe.” I grinned mischievously at the tiny brunette, taking her hand in mine and kissing the scars on her wrists, knowing the intimacy of these marks would rattle her. “You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for your happiness.”

  She stared up at me, unmoving for a moment, her muscles rigid as though she had been stunned.

  “Aww.” Iona clapped her hands together, watching us dreamily.

  Slowly, the corners of Fionna’s lids tapered, her pert nose flaring. I thought she was about to punch me in the face, when her body relaxed, her lashes fluttering. But her grip on my hand crunched down.

  “You are so good to me.” Sarcasm laced delicately through her words. “Sometimes this doesn’t seem real. Like someone dropped me in a boiling hot cauldron…”

  I should have known the Druid would come out to play.

  Iona’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.

  “I know, it’s as if we’re drowning in love, right, FeFe?”

  Her fingers dug into my skin painfully. The girl was strong.

  “Drowning.” She laughed emptily. “That sounds amazing right now.”

  I brought Fionna’s hand back up to my lips, looking like I was kissing it again, and instead I bit the tender spot between her thumb and index finger.

  She yipped but covered it over with a cough, yanking her hand away from my hold.

  “As you can see, Iona, we’re madly in love and looking forward to some alone time.” I gave the older woman a wink.

  “Oh, oh!” She put up her hands. “Majesty, don’t say another word. I am gone.” She pointed her feet for the stairs. “It may have been a while, but I remember what it’s like to be young and in love. You can’t get enough of each other.”

  “Exactly.” I turned to watch my old acquaintance flutter about resembling a drunken bee, heading for the exit down.

  “You know how to contact me if you need anything. Jacob will drop the whisky and food off later.” She hovered by the steps.

  “That won’t be necessary. We’ll probably be indisposed.”

  Iona’s cheeks reddened, her hand going to her mouth again. “Right! Of course. Well, you two enjoy. Oh, this is such great news. I am so happy for you, Majesty. And you, Ms. Cathbad. Congratulations to you both.”

  “Yeah, I’m so happy I could die.” Fionna walked the line between snarky and sweet.

  “Thank you, Iona. To both you and Jacob.” I took a step, trying to encourage her to leave.

  “Of course, my liege. We love when you visit.” She took one last look around. “Well, okay.” Iona waved and took a step down. “Bye.”

  Neither Fionna nor I moved until we heard the door shut, the tension filling the space between us like curdled cream.

  Thud. The old door clicked closed.

  Already sensing what was coming, I whipped around, grabbing for the fist directed at my face. Anger burst over her features like fireworks, a low growl rumbling in her throat.

  “Now, now, honey. Is that the way you say thank you?”

  “Thank you?” Her gaze burned with fire. “How about I show you how thankful I am.”

  “Sounds fun, but maybe later, FeFe,” I replied evenly, shoving her hand away from me. With speed I wasn’t expecting, her other fist smashed into my gut. It didn’t hurt, but it knocked me a few steps away.

  “If you ever call me FeFe again, you are going to find the new way of getting a colonoscopy.”

  My false demeanor dropped away, my jaw clipping together.

  “And if you…” I stepped up, looming over her. “Ever attack me again, you’re going to find your lips sewn together and your body in chains.”

  “Can’t take a real fight, huh? With someone who can actually challenge you?” She dared my step with her own, aligning our bodies. “Too intimidating for the handsome, kind King?”

  “Nothing about me is kind,” I snarled, getting close to her face.

  She put her hands on her hips, confidence beaming from her steady gaze. “Me neither.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Fionna

  His energy radiated in waves off him, thumping into me. We held our ground, ready for the other to attack or back down.

  We might be here a while.

  His eyes slid over me; his jaw twitched as though it were doing jumping jacks. Heat from his close proximity shrouded me, his body intruding in my personal space.

  He will not intimidate me.

  “No. There is nothing gentle about you,” he rumbled. My bones felt the vibration of his voice, turning up the temperature inside. He was the perfect representation of the devil, so tempting and delicious on the outside, making you want to sin over and over again, only to find he consumed your soul along the way and left you burning in flames alone.

  I was no fool. Handsome men were nothing but trouble.

  But when he leaned closer, I found my lungs halting in my chest. His gaze moved from my throat up to my face, the green of his eyes deepening and sparking. Lars went still, and his muscles locked down his neck and his shoulders, his eyes drifting over my shoulder. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, causing my heart to skip in my chest.

  “Wh-what?” I turned my head to follow his eyeline. He didn’t move or speak. Tension crackled from him to me, itching my nerves and spitting adrenaline into my veins. I broke away from him and glanced over my shoulder out the window.

  A stirring at a window of the building over from ours pulled my focus. All I saw was the movement of the curtains, the room too dark to see anything else inside.

  “What’s wron—?” I turned back around to face him and stopped speaking immediately. The spot in front of me was empty. Lars was already at the stairs, moving soundlessly down to the first level.

  “Lars?” I yelled after him, taking after him, stumbling down the steps. “What’s going on?”

  He didn’t react as he reached the small ground-floor landing. He turned to the coatroom next to the front door, flinging it open.

  “What the shite?” I muttered more to myself as I hit the bottom, racing over. The tiny space was filled with brooms, blankets, and brollies for guests to use. Lars shoved the stuff to the side, delving deeper into the cubbyhole. I came up to the door, placing my hands on the frame, watching him. Lars jostled all the way to the back, his hand pushing at a section of the wall.

  “What are you do—?”

  With a hiss of air, the entire back wall swung open, blowing old, stale oxygen over my face. A wall sconce flickered on as a door swished open, lighting a limestone stairway behind the door with a shadowy gloom. It circled around in a spiral, leading below the ground level.

  “Holy shite.”

  Lars traveled quickly, his boots moving down the curved staircase with determination and speed.

  “Lars!” I called after him, stopping at the entrance of the hidden door. The hesitation to stay or go lasted only an instant; I was never the girl to stay back. My feet hustled down the rutted stone steps, trying to catch up, the air shifting to a cool, even temperature with every turn I took. A musty, decaying smell wafted up my nose, making it itch. Strategically placed motion lights flicked on as Lars got near, only illuminating the area a couple meters before us.

  Lower and lower we ventured under the earth, my stomach bouncing with fear of the unknown, and even of him. Lars moved low and determined, as though he ha
d been programmed with one purpose: to pursue and kill. My mouth stayed pinned shut, sensing the savage demon skimming the surface. I couldn’t even tell if he knew I was with him or if he noticed anything but stalking toward his goal.

  Finally we hit the bottom of the steps leading into a low-ceiling tunnel drenched in a sharp sour odor. Fire bulb lights along the walls cast an eerie glow on the underground labyrinth, showing life down here was still active. Edinburgh’s past underground world was well known among tourists. Many tour companies raked in money leading people through a small part of the seedy world that existed once under the city.

  People thought this world had died away long ago. It hadn’t. Not in the parts the tourists didn’t venture to. And seeing the familiarity with which Lars progressed through, I had no doubt he was or had been a part of it.

  Lars stopped abruptly, my frame almost smashing into the back of him. He tilted his head, his shoulders rolling forward as he inhaled sharply through his nose. His movements were slow, jolting, and inhuman, unsettling me even more. His actions were similar to a beast, but he resembled no animal I knew. Shape-shifters had animal-like qualities, but as scary as they were, there still was something familiar, something you could recognize. Nothing about Lars had that kind of comfort. He might growl, snarl, and hunt, but he was nothing like anything I’d ever come across.

  A chill shook my bones and dimpled my flesh, as he silently crept forward, becoming one with the shadows. A low growl rumbled from his throat, spiking my heart into overdrive, which thumped loudly in my ears.

  “No. Not this time.” His lips parted and he hissed. In an instant he was gone, slipping around the corner and down the tunnel before I could even blink.

  “Lars!” I took off after him, following a reflex to stay near him. It felt safer with the demon I knew than whatever else could be down here. My short legs stretched, trying to catch up, following the passageway. The lights flickered and dimmed, tricking my eyes at every turn. Curving and veering down another path, I sprinted, holding his name on the tip of my tongue. The desire to call out for him was strong, but not as powerful as my self-preservation. No telling what was down here, what was stalking the underground.

  Fear pumped my heart, pushing my legs faster. I had no reason to be afraid. I was no victim, but warning bells nipped at the back of my neck. And though I hadn’t seen anything yet, I had no doubt we were not alone here.

  My adrenaline flickered, bringing me to a stop, the path twisting and sprouting off in so many ways I had no idea where to go or where I came from. “Dammit,” I scolded myself, knowing I should have stayed and waited for him to return. I wasn’t even sure what made me run, except his agitation inflicted me with the need to flee. To be with him.

  I bent over my knees, sucking in breath.

  A tortured howl tore down the tunnel, freezing my blood, catching air in my throat. I jerked my head right and left, not sure where it came from. I hoped I could find the way back to the flat. This place seemed to be out to confuse and displace you, as though it were a giant oubliette.

  The sound of heavy boots striking the path reverberated, spinning my attention around again. Thud. Thud. My heart slammed against my ribs.

  “Lars?” I whispered, his name no longer wanting to stay in my mouth.

  Silence. The tap of water was the only noise. Drops of draining water above hit the stone ground, echoing down the hollow channel. I turned back the way I came, creeping to one of the junctions, peering around the corner, my body tense and ready to spit out a spell at a moment’s notice.

  Nothing.

  I prodded my way a little farther, hoping I was going the same way I came. Slinking down the dark corridor, I stayed close to the wall, keeping an eye on both ends of the tunnel. When I reached another Y-junction, a tremor stopped me in my tracks, shoving my heart up in my throat.

  A gut-wrenching wail slashed through the underground like a branding knife, quivering the walls with its agony, bending my knees toward the ground. I reached for the wall, chills raging over my skin similar to a thousand bugs.

  Something in my gut knew instantly.

  Lars.

  Panic fizzed up my throat, burning it like acid. “Lars,” I muttered, my feet slamming against the ground, darting toward the source of the pain.

  I rounded a corner, recognizing the tight tunnel as the one near the door to our flat. A dark mass lumped on the ground, rocking back and forth.

  Shite.

  “Lars?” I inquired apprehensively, inching up to the figure. The closer I got, the better I saw the man on the old cobble brick. “Lars!” Was he hurt? Something was obviously wrong with him, twisting my stomach in a knot. I ran to him, dropping to my knees at his side, my hands grabbing his face, turning it to me. I sucked in a hiss through my teeth; his eyes were wild and filled with terror and anguish.

  My stomach bounced into my throat, my heart batting against my ribs with utter fear. To see Lars terrified was like the biggest security blanket being ripped from you. You always knew you were safe with him. If he was ever scared or sad, he kept it locked deep inside. The King was not allowed to show anything but strength.

  “Lars?”

  At my voice, he started batting my hands away, his body squirming away.

  “Get away from me. You’re not real. Stop torturing me.”

  “What?”

  He scrambled to his feet, breathing heavily, his hair tousled, his clothes skewed. His knuckles were cut up and bleeding.

  “Let me heal you.” I reached out.

  “DON’T!” he bellowed, backing away from me until his back slammed into the wall. He bent over, moaning as though his heart was breaking apart. “Please don’t touch me,” he whispered. “You’ll make it real. And I won’t be strong enough to fight.”

  I stood up, moving as if I were locked in a cage with a tiger. “Strong enough to fight what?”

  “You,” he whimpered. “Do you know how much I want you in my arms again? To choose you this time? I made a huge mistake. I should have picked you.” Pain burrowed deep across his forehead, agony etched in his features.

  My throat curled in on itself like a terrified animal. Witnessing him heartbroken, vulnerable, scared, and confused reflected the same emotions in myself.

  “I loved you so much. I am so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t the man you wanted to raise our daughter.”

  Whoa.

  You always learned everything you could about your enemy. I knew most of the rumors about him and the dae. I thought Ember was supposed to be his niece, not his daughter. Did they do that to keep her better protected? The daughter of a king would be a lot more valuable to his enemies.

  We both had kept our children secret to protect them.

  “It would be so easy to let you take me. Forgo everything I’ve worked for…to finally live in peace with you. Even if it’s in my head.” He rubbed his palm furiously on his forehead, messing up his hair even more. The impeccable image of the King was lost behind the feral man before me.

  “Hey.” I eased up to him, taking his hand in mine to stop him. He let out a heart-wrenching cry, his fingers gripping down on me, crushing my bones painfully.

  “Ash,” he whispered so quietly I barely heard him. With a tug, he drew me into him, his hands sliding up my cheeks, cupping my face. My body froze, oxygen evaporating as he pulled me to him, his lips brushing mine.

  Fuck. Shite.

  “Lars.” I curled my fingers over his, trying to step back, but his grip was firm and wouldn’t allow me to budge a centimeter. His nose brushed up against mine; his breath slid down my throat, between my breasts, clouding my mind as my body responded to his touch.

  He tipped forward, his mouth barely sweeping over mine. Something deep inside told me if I let him really kiss me it was game over. I wouldn’t be able to stop anything after that. And this was wrong. We were wrong.

  “Demon.” I yanked out of his grip, shoving him into the wall with a thud. “Snap out of it.”

 
His gaze jolted to me, his lids blinking rapidly.

  I watched as reality swooshed back in, sharpening his gaze on me until his eyes tapered in a glower. The muscles along his jaw rolled. We watched each other in a tense silence for a few beats. Then he shoved off the wall, knocking me to the side as he strode past me, heading for the entrance. He ripped open the door, stomping up the stairs, leaving me gaping after him.

  What the fuck just happened?

  ~~

  I stood in the rancid-smelling tunnel for a full minute, trying to restore gravity to my body. Off-kilter, my head and stomach were swirling as though someone flushed a toilet in my brain.

  Every nerve danced under my skin. The actual fabric of my clothes against my skin elicited electric shocks through my body. It itched, needing to be soothed by someone’s touch.

  His.

  I ground my teeth together in disgust, anger firing up my back like sparks, wiping the thought away as fast as it came.

  A lack of sex was splitting my brain and body into two directions. One still hated fae, the other clearly wasn’t so picky. It angered me beyond belief he triggered something in me no one else had. It made me want to crawl out of my own skin and leave it behind.

  Like the King, I could not afford to display any weakness. Not around anyone and especially not around him. My fists balled up in fury at him for causing these feelings in me. I despised him. He was more than my enemy; he was holding my daughter as leverage.

  “Fuck you, arsehole,” I grumbled, marching for the stairs. My legs bounded up the staircase, each step solidifying my resentment. Tearing through the closet, I slammed the secret passage door and pounded up the rest of the stairs to the main level.

  My feet stopped short, air clipping in my mouth. Lars stood with his back to me, his hands on the dining room table, his head dropped forward. His back was rigid, his shoulders up to his ears.