“He’s what?” The queen’s massive wings lifted and stroked the air. Haddon hung onto the paper and dared to lay a restraining hand on the queen’s arm.
She glanced at him and eased her wings to a stop. He hid his pleasure. She was under his control. He’d waited years for this. Once he’d been her whipping boy, but soon, very soon, he’d have it all. Her under his thumb, the Tuathan’s respect, and all the power of the Black Court.
“Write carefully, gnome,” he said. “That is, if you want your sniveling children and wife to continue living in our guest quarters down below.” Under his light touch the queen’s hand clenched tight around the arm of the throne, and he thrilled at her anger. “Is the prince in his regular form?” Haddon asked. “Is he free? Has he managed to work any magic? Any magic at all besides that ridiculous fire spell you reported a few years ago?”
Beezel stood, taking back the sheet of vellum in his quivering grasp. The quill snapped in his trembling grip, but the page boy had foreseen the dilemma and had brought more than one. Ah, the boy was smart, too. Haddon gave him an approving look, and the naive child smiled back.
The gnome wrote out his answers and handed them over.
“Tell me.” The queen’s eyes whirled and Haddon flinched.
Despite his pleasure in her increasing insanity, despite the fact that his power increased with every fit she pitched and every courtier she killed, he still did not want to tell her this news. She would be out of control, and he didn’t have his power base ready yet for the take-over. If she lost it too badly, one of the other monarchs could come in and take over, and he would be back at the bottom of the heap again. He had no friends at the other courts, only enemies.
“Tell me!” the queen demanded. Her long, black nails dug into the wood of the throne. The moon-white skulls swinging around her neck clattered together, their teeth chattering as they struck.
He had no choice. He cleared his throat. “Your son has managed to obtain a witch. The gnome thinks she’ll be the one to undo the spell.”
“How could that happen? Did he manage to leave Cairngloss?”
“Gnome?”
Beezel scratched some more words.
“Kian used witches magic to breach your wards. They haven’t foiled the curse yet, but we should come up with a plan.”
“Kill her. Kill the witch.” She panted. The mist that harbingered her changes began to rise, and Haddon rushed to find a solution. He’d kept the Crone, the queen’s worst and most dangerous aspect, from appearing for the last five years. He had to keep her from appearing now. The Crone was not insane, not crazy with emotion. The Crone was something worse. A true psychopath, without anger, without remorse. If she came out, she’d torture any and all, including him, until they gave up their secrets. And if the Crone found out what he’d done, all would be lost.
“My queen,” he said, stroking her forearm, soothing the mist away. “Now that he knows this works, he’ll just obtain another one. It’s better if we think of something else. We need more eyes and ears on the prince than this sniveling creature.”
She half-rose from her seat. “He’s going to win! I can’t have him win.”
To any listening ears it would sound like the queen talked of her son, but Haddon heard the desperation under her words and knew she spoke of someone else.
“I can take care of it.” He lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “You will have the prince’s power, and once you have it you will be able to take on the Gold King, but you must wait and let me take care of things in the meantime. Don’t I always take care of everything?”
She nodded. She settled back, but her eyes still whirled, violet maelstroms that could suck him down forever. He pulled a jewelry box out from his pocket and opened it, pulling out a gold locket.
“Give this to the witch. Make sure she takes it and wears it.” He’d been saving this particular item for something else, but this was a desperate moment. He would not lose everything now because of a spoiled prince.
“How can I do that, My Lord? She doesn’t trust me,” the gnome whined.
“You won’t have to do a thing. As soon as she sees it, it will draw her in. It has two spells on it. The first will lead her to her heart’s desire. That will take her away from the prince.” Until the queen was completely under his control, Prince Kian must stay locked up. “You keep the box. It will enable you to track the locket. That way you’ll be able to make sure she stays far from the Prince.”
Beezel bowed.
Haddon waved the stinking gnome away. He’d had enough of gnomes, in fact, he was ready to call it a day.
“What if this doesn’t work? What if she stays and breaks the curse?” The queen was still agitated. He stroked her arm and she settled down into her throne.
“The spell confining the prince also keeps us from seeing into Cairngloss, and that creature is almost useless.” He waved at the gnome. “This will allow us to track the witch, and if Kian escapes…we’ll be able to track him, if he takes her with him.”
The queen’s mental processes had slowed with her increasing volatility. He could almost see her thinking, trying to come up with a reason this wouldn’t work. She settled back into her throne and tapped the wooden arms with her long nails. “It won’t work.”
Haddon leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Send the gnome away, Your Majesty, and I’ll tell you the second part to my plan.”
She smiled and ordered the gnome back to Cairngloss. Haddon proceeded to fill her in on what they could do to control the rebellious Prince Kian, once and for all, and achieve the queen’s goals of sucking dry her son’s massive Gift, and keeping it all for herself.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kian paced the length of the workroom. His cloak swirled around him, and his heart thumped loud in his ears. “Are you ready yet?” He’d waited so long for a real shot at crushing this curse, and now Bryanna was fiddling with everything and making him wait. Nothing satisfied her, from the quality of the beeswax candles, to the exacting placement of the very large pentacle he’d be trapped in during the bulk of the spell.
“You have to give me room to work, Kian.” Bryanna frowned and laid the spell-book on the table. “I think we’re ready, but I want to be sure. There’s a lot riding on this and with that last sentence unreadable, I’m guessing how it will end up.”
“It’s fine,” he said, irritated by her attention to detail even while he appreciated her efforts on his behalf. “The pages of that old book will be worn thin by the amount of times you’ve checked that spell.”
She’d donned a loose, white robe in preparation for the ceremony and after all his reading about witches, he knew that underneath, she was stark naked. If he’d had any energy to spare, he would have had a terrible time resisting her tonight. She’d washed her hair, and from across the room, the honey and chamomile mixed with her own innate scent, teased his nose as she bent over her collection of spell implements. Her collar gaped, giving him a glimpse of bare breast. Despite his preoccupation, his dick twitched. He growled under his breath and resumed his pacing.
“I’ve told you, this isn’t my thing. I need to be sure.” Bryanna picked up a piece of chalk and blew out a breath. “I’m going to draw the circle and pentacle now, so let me be. We don’t want anything going wrong.
“I’ve never seen anyone do so much preparation to work a simple spell.”
“This isn’t a simple spell. At least, not for me. And this is how witches work spells. What were you doing before?”
He refused to answer that. His failed attempts were none of her business.
“Sure, we can draw energy from the ground and pinch hit,” she said. “But this is better.”
He hoped so. He wasn’t sure what ‘pinch hit’ was, but it sounded quicker than this drawn-out process she insisted on. She’d made Beezel wash the floor three times, once with soap and water, once with vinegar, and once with an herbal mixture that made his nose wrinkle. Now, beneath the flickering
light of the wall sconces, she finished checking the measurements for the pentacle and drew the first chalk lines. His nerves screamed.
“It’s done.”
“Can we start?”
All of a sudden he wasn’t ready. What if it failed? What if something worse happened? He stared at Bryanna moving confidently around the circle and his stomach clenched.
Everything depended on this slender, golden maid. His life, his followers, his freedom.
“How long until the moon rises?” She placed the first of four fat, brand new, beeswax candles at the northernmost point of the circle, adjusting its placement not once, but three times, before placing the rest of the candles at the other directions.
He gazed into the wide, silver bowl of water on the table. A starry night sky stared back at him with a sliver of white at its side. “A few more minutes. She’s just peeking her face out now.”
“While we wait, let’s go over it one last time. I’ll set the circle and raise the shields. Once that’s done and the space within is protected I’ll set the boundaries of the pentacle wards. I’ll leave one side open and let you in.” Her cheeks pinked. “You’ll need to drop the cloak.”
“I get it,” he growled. She hadn’t seen all of him—he didn’t want her to—but he needed to lift his curse more than he needed to keep his dignity.
She nodded, avoiding his eyes. “Then I’ll ready the herbs and say the spell.” She picked up the book and frowned at the page. “I wish I could read all the lines here. There’s been some water damage to the ink. It says “and the transformation will take place. Animal will become human…” something, something, “the spell caster should cut open the pentacle and…” then I can’t read the next line.” She looked back at him. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this. I have no idea what will happen at the end.”
“Don’t back out now. All the words are there, all the ingredients, all the steps but that last piece. You’ve changed the wording from wolf to animal. It should work.”
“It should work, but I’d feel better if I could read that last line. It could be important.” She exhaled, blowing a stray lock of hair off of her forehead. “One last check.”
She crossed to the table and gazed at the tools and herbs next to the bowl of water. “Wolfsbane, blessed knife…I wish I had my athame, but this will have to do.” Bryanna peered anxiously into the bowl. “The moon’s almost risen. I think we can get started.”
He swallowed. This was it. He was anxious to get it over with, but so afraid to start. “What if it doesn’t work?” he asked, and closed his eyes at the tremble in his own voice.
When he opened them, her beautiful expression was full of sympathy, making him wish he’d drawn his hood up over his face and hidden his own betraying eyes.
“It might not work.”
The hackles raised on his neck. “Don’t say that! You’ll screw it up.”
She shook her head. “I might screw it up anyway. This spell is jerry-rigged as it is. I’ve already told you I’m a sucky witch and even though most of the spell is readable, I’m worried about the last few words.” She juggled the knife, censer, bowl of herbs, the last unlit pillar candle, and a lit taper in a small holder and carried them over to the circle, placing them by the northern candle inside the circle, but outside of the pentacle. “What if the piece we’re missing at the end is essential?”
He checked the bowl, three quarters of the moon’s face now showed in the water. “It’s time.”
“Kian?” He looked up at the question in her voice. “You know once we start, we can’t stop. The spell is very clear.”
He swallowed, hesitant and apprehensive despite his sure knowledge that this was his only course of action. “I know.”
“I mean it.” She gave him a stern look. “It says I must chant until the smoke clears. I don’t know what that means, but the warnings are dire if I stop.”
“Don’t stop,” he said. “Follow the spell.”
She held his gaze, and he wondered if she hesitated because she worried about him, or if it was just her lack of self-confidence. Then her eyes dropped and the moment was gone.
“All right. We’ll do it. And afterward, in the morning, I’ll leave to find my family.”
He nodded.
“We begin,” she said. And she dropped her robe.
For a moment he forgot why he was there. She was perfection.
Full tip-tilted breasts, strong abdomen, and long, lean thighs. His cock rose, and he thanked Danu that the witch was now entirely focused on her spell work and couldn’t see what his curse had wrought under his cloak. No sane woman would want the monstrosity his mother had cursed him with between his legs. No human woman for sure. But possibly, after tonight, he’d be back to normal. And his mother, with her twisted sense of humor, could rot in hell.
Bryanna started with the topmost candle and walked the outer circle. “Guardians of the North, I give you respect and ask you for your protection as we cast our magics.” She lit the candle and moved on. One by one, working her way sunwise around the circle until all four were lit and she stood where she’d started. She planted her feet. Her body tensed and she lifted her arms. “Blessed Danu, I ask thee for protection and help tonight as I cast this spell.” There was a shift in the air.
A rainbow of light started at her feet and spread up her body, along her thighs and pelvis, up her stomach and breasts, until her entire body glowed with a silvery rainbow. The hairs on his pelt tingled and lifted, and he wished he could touch her skin. Share in her power. Drink from her aura.
She picked up the knife, and using the point, traced the circle, leaving a thick glowing line of magic along the chalk. As she reached the starting point, the silver gleam expanded, reaching up, until the entire circle was encased in a glowing transparent dome of light, and the shield was set.
Her form blurred by the magic between them, Bryanna walked the exterior of the pentacle within the circle, swinging the censer and purifying the space, her words now silent inside the dome’s protection. The pungent scent of smoking sage rose into the air as Bryanna bent low to the ground and cut a door in the dome with the knife.
“Let he who asks to be healed enter the sacred circle.”
Kian bit down on his fear and dropped his cloak. Bryanna averted her eyes.
“Fuck,” he whispered, and forced his legs to move and carry him into the circle.
Bryanna closed the door with the point of her knife, and the magic snapped closed. Now inside the dome, swirls of heavy power pulsed around him like a living, breathing thing, caressing his body and lifting the tips of his fur.
Bryanna had left one side of the pentacle un-chalked. She motioned him in, her face turned away from his body. He stalked inside, aware she saw the worst of his curse now that he was completely exposed. It shouldn’t matter to him. It would be over tonight. Somehow, someway, he would make sure it was over.
She uttered the first words of the spell and drew the last line. Electric blue light sprang up over the pentacle’s chalk lines, and he was sealed in. Now, there was no going back.
Locked inside the magical barrier, Kian knelt down as he’d been instructed. Outside, Bryanna’s body undulated and swayed as she chanted. Light pulsed into and through her body in increasing waves until she almost flickered.
She picked up the stone bowl of herbs and paced five times around the pentacle, grinding the herbs with a pestle as she walked and chanted, infusing the herbs with the spell. At her fifth pass, she stopped and poured in some wine and tilted the lit taper. The bowl caught fire and flared.
A cloud of pungent smoke rose. Bryanna caught the cloud between her hands, holding it there and shaping it into a ball as she whispered to the smoke. It flashed yellow, then green, then blue, then back to a lurid shade of yellow. She blew at the smoke, and the ball flew out of her hands and crossed the blue light barrier of the pentacle’s wards. The wards sizzled and flared and Kian braced himself for impact.
The ball hit him and exp
loded, expanding to envelope him in blinding, stinking smoke that reeked of carrion, and blood, and wine. He fought to breathe, gasping for fresh air and inhaling nothing but smoke. The spell burned its way into his throat, down into his lungs, and he choked.
He flung himself from side to side, instinct pushing him to flee the stinking haze. He hit the side of the pentacle. Light flashed. The stench of his own flesh burning rose and he fell down, convulsing. The scorching in his lungs spread through his flesh, searing him from the inside out.
His joints popped and snapped. He writhed on the floor encased in a cloud of blinding smoke, burning and bursting in agony, trying to shut out the sound of his own hoarse screams.
Inside the spell’s circle Bryanna waited and chanted, her limbs shaking as the words of the spell continued to tumble out of her mouth. The power she’d asked for throbbed in her veins. She held it back, controlling the flow as she focused on reciting the spell over and over. Behind the pentacle’s thick wall of smoke came a terrible popping and ripping. And Kian’s wrenching screams.
The screaming stopped.
The ugly yellow miasma inside the pentacle began to clear, and she finished the last stanza of the spell. Peering past the electric blue barriers and into the smoke she saw a crumpled, nude man lying unbearably still.
The center of her chest seized.
He looked dead.
“Kian!” She grabbed her knife and inserted the point into the magical blue wall of the pentacle. Electricity zapped her, and she dropped the knife. Reaching inside herself for the silvery power she grasped the hilt in her numb fingers and inserted the knife again. This time she held on through the pain and cut a door into the protective wall from the tip of the star to the joint where the next point started. The energy flared then faded to a cool, humming glow as she mastered the wards and entered the pentacle.
He lay on the stone tiles, his face concealed by a swath of streaky brown hair. At least six and a half feet tall, with clean arms and legs built of lean muscle that ran along his thighs, back, and biceps. His skin was a shade of white so pale it nearly glowed. And he wasn’t breathing.
Prince by Blood and Bone: A Fantasy Romance of the Black Court (Tales of the Black Court) Page 7