Agent of the Fae

by Alex Rivers

  “His name is Coel, Lord of Balor. I’ve only met him a few times, but his temper is legendary. He once flayed a man for cheating at a game of cards. Killed the man’s wife, as well.”

  I swallowed hard. “Wonderful.”

  “I have heard that he’s been trying to restrain himself since he inherited the title of Lord Balor.” He turned right onto a straight road between stone and brick mansions. I thought we might be driving past an actual palace—an unglamoured palace that belonged to the human queen.

  Roan turned sharply onto a narrow road, stopping the Porsche outside a mansion with creamy white walls.

  Roan unhooked his seatbelt. “The Lord of Balor doesn’t bother to glamour his residence.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Here’s what else I know. Coel Balor is inexperienced, and I’m hoping to use that to our advantage. I have nothing to offer him. My hope is that his anger will push him toward vengeance against the Seelie. When the Seelie attacked London, they ransacked his family’s armory.”

  “What is this armory you keep talking about?”

  “Gormal Balor had been a scholar, and one of his interests was legendary weapons. He’d spent his life locating and collecting them into an impressive armory until his own army became more powerful than the king’s. When he realized the threat, King Ogmios confiscated the armory. That was what pushed Gormal Balor to join our rebellion. When we overthrew the king, they got their weapons back. But Gormal is dead, and the Seelie have stolen all the weapons. They now have an enormous advantage over us.”

  My chest tightened. As if they didn’t have enough advantages already. “Any chance we can get the weapons back?”

  “First things first,” Roan said grimly. “We need to get the house of Balor behind us.”

  If Coel of Balor was angry, he hid it well. With his flushed cheeks, his disheveled shirt, and his feet propped on a marble table, he mostly looked drunk.

  A fae servant had led us to the sitting room where Coel sat in a chair, staring at an unlit fireplace with a glazed expression. He gripped a half-empty flask, and I recognized the flowery scent straight away. Fae nectar. With his round cheeks and boyish hair, he looked younger than most of the fae I had met, almost like a teenager.

  He sat on one of the upholstered maroon chairs arranged around a marble fireplace. Bookshelves lined the walls, apart from one, where a portrait hung. It depicted a wild-eyed woman drenched in blood, a slaughtered bull at her feet.

  When Lord Balor finally noticed us in the room, he startled, sloshing a bit of his drink onto a rug embroidered with a gold and red image of a phoenix.

  He sipped from his flask. “Lord of Taranis! I’ve heard so much about you. All the women want to talk about is Roan, Lord of Taranis. It’s getting boring, frankly.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “Is that right? All the women?”

  Roan didn’t wait for invitations to sit. He gestured for me to take one of the empty chairs across from Coel, and dropped into the other.

  “Coel of Balor,” said Roan. “I’ve been meaning to make your acquaintance.”

  Coel wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Honestly, though. Is it really just the lust thing that sparks all the feminine interest? The last of the Court of Lust? Or is it all the…” He waved a hand at Roan. “…All the tattoos and muscles, and that sort of brooding, glowering thing you’ve got going on?”

  A little from column A, a little from column B.

  Roan didn’t answer.

  “I’ve never met another from your court,” Coel continued. “Obviously. They’re all dead.” He snorted, then covered his mouth with his hand. “Sorry. That was a bit tactless.” He lifted his flask. “The nectar does that to me, but it does keep my rage in check so wonderfully…” he slurred.

  Roan’s expression betrayed nothing. “As to why women like to talk about me, you’d have to ask them. I came to discuss an alliance.”

  Coel’s dark eyes landed on me. “This one’s a sexy little minx though, isn’t she?”

  Roan’s body tensed, knuckles whitening as his fists clenched. “This ‘little minx’ is the Mistress of Dread.”

  Coel’s eyes widened. “The one you’ve been shafting, is it? This is what all the nymphs from the Court of Mirth have been complaining about. There was a time when I loved finding myself balls-deep in nymph flesh, but now they won’t stop banging on about Roan of Taranis and his new mate, and they’re all devastated. Tedious. She must be quite the bit of prime pocket for you to give all that up, am I right, Roan? You could have a veritable harem of nymphs at your fingertips and cock-tip and whatever else.”

  My throat tightened. So even the mirth-nymphs knew about our soulmate bond. Probably before I had.

  Roan’s jaw was clenched. “I thought you’d be interested in reclaiming your armory.”

  A spark of interest lit in Coel’s eyes, before they clouded again. “I forgot to congratulate you on your slaughter of the king. Nice work, old chap.”

  This was quickly starting to seem like a wasted meeting. Coel could hardly string a coherent thought together.

  Roan stared at him. “I did it with the help of your father. He was a great man.”

  “So they keep telling me. I hardly ever met him. He lived among his books and parchments.” Coel took another swig. “What do you want, Lord of Taranis?”

  “An alliance. I want to give you vengeance for the theft of your armory.”

  “Vengeance,” Coel said broodingly. “I notice you didn’t offer me vengeance for the death of my father.”

  A silence fell over the room. Bit of an awkward topic there.

  Coel’s eyes looked suddenly more alert, and he shifted forward in his chair. “My father died imprisoned in the house of Arawn. They tortured him to death. Don’t you think I should avenge that injustice before I worry about weapons?”

  “The interrogator who imprisoned and tortured your father is dead,” Roan said carefully. “She burnt to death.”

  The slaughter of the interrogator—that was also me. I was feeling like less and less of a fraud by the minute. Maybe I was terrifying even without the dread powers.

  Coel scowled, gripping his flask. “Even this act of vengeance has been stolen from me. Since she is dead, surely I should exact my revenge on her son?” His eyes blazed. “I live for vengeance. Live for it the way you live for fucking.”

  Charming.

  I reached out, touching his arm. “And we’ve come to offer you vengeance. Take out your rage on the Seelie who stole from you. It was the Seelie who drove the Unseelie out of our ancestral lands in the first place, who created this whole situation in which the king could seize control. If it hadn’t been for the Seelie, your father would still be alive, ruling his kingdom as an equal to the Weala Broc and the other houses.”

  Coel stared at me, licking his lips. “That’s a spiral way of thinking. Very well, what sort of revenge do you have in mind? Will we kill them?”

  “Yes,” said Roan.

  Coel frowned. “And how do you propose that we do that? We don’t have my family’s weapons, and they do. That’s the problem, isn’t it? Not to mention the fact that they outnumber us.”

  “We can fight them with an alliance of the six courts and the Mistress of Dread by our side.”

  Coel’s jaw dropped. “You want me to side with House Arawn? After what they’ve done?” He shot me a sharp look, his voice rising. “And the Weala Broc, who robbed my family the first time?”

  I could see Roan visibly losing his patience, and he rubbed his forehead. “I’ve longed for vengeance against the terror fae for a lot longer than you have, but it’s not a social gathering, Coel. This is necessary for the survival of our race. Do you understand? The six courts unite or die. Those are the options.”

  Coel’s lip curled in a snarl. “What I don’t understand is why you refer to six courts, when there are clearly only five left. The king crushed the Court of Lust centuries ago.”

  “And yet I remain,” said Roan evenly
.

  “I’ll never join with my enemies.” Coel’s knuckles had whitened as he clutched the flask.

  Silence stretched over the room. I looked at the Lord of Balor carefully. It wasn’t quite anger that I was sensing from him. It was something else. Fear, maybe? Could I play on that?

  “Lord Balor,” I began. “Your court, your men, they will all die. The Seelie don’t show mercy.”

  “Maybe.” Coel shrugged. “So you say. Then I will die with honor, and not fighting side by side with the family who tortured my father to death.”

  Firelight licked over Roan’s golden skin, the shadows dancing over the planes of his face. “You lost dozens of men when the Seelie plundered your armory, in addition to your weapons. Are you telling me you don’t desire vengeance against the men who robbed you?”

  “Have you ever seen the Seelie fight, Taranis?” Coel didn’t sound scared—he sounded defeated. “We can’t win against them. There is no way. We have already lost.”

  I recognized it then. The slump in the shoulders, the monotone voice, the disheveled clothes. Coel wasn’t angry, or concerned about his honor. All he felt was defeat, and grief over his father. He was… depressed.

  “Lord Balor,” I asked carefully. “How long have you been inside your London manor?”

  He raised his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “When was the last time you went outside?”

  He sneered. “What does the Mistress of Dread care about my daily schedule?”

  “You’ve been cooped up in here since your father died. Is that right?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know when he died. The banshees from the house of Arawn gave us his body a few months ago. They said he was a traitor. His corpse was a husk. They starved him half to death and then slit his throat.” He took a long swig. “I can’t say I’ve much felt like taking a morning constitutional since then. Is this important for some reason?”

  I had killed Gormal Balor three months ago. If Coel hadn’t been out since then…

  The fae needed human emotions to feed their power. Without emotions, they weakened and faded away. Coel’s body would be nearly empty, his magic depleted. No wonder he sat slumped in his chair, ready to die.

  “Lord Balor,” I said. “If I were in your position, I’d be furious. Furious.”

  Coel smiled thinly. “I was angry. So angry it clouded my thoughts. But I found a cure.” He waved the nectar at me. “Want some?”

  “You’re not getting me.” I closed my eyes, summoning my own rage. It wasn’t hard to do. The thought of Elrine casually grabbing Roan’s hand like it wasn’t a big deal instantly sparked a hot surge of anger. That transparent nightgown she wore, pulling Roan in close to whisper… That got the ire flowing nicely.

  Still, I could do better. I needed pure rage.

  I stared at Coel, who looked back at me, transfixed. “In fact. I am furious. The Seelie attacked during a truce, killing our men. Killing your men.”

  I summoned the memory of Abellio torturing me in the king’s dungeon, the sack over my head. Drowning me with water. Beg for my forgiveness. He still lived, and that needed to change.

  White searing rage exploded in my mind as I thought of my torturers laughing as I trembled, coughed, begged. Never again.

  I glanced at Roan, his green eyes wide as he tried to soak up my rage. “If only you could feel my rage, Lord Balor.” I held Roan’s gaze. “If only you knew.”

  Roan nodded, almost imperceptibly, as understanding dawned. He leaned back in his chair, no longer absorbing my emotions, no longer shielding.

  Across from us, Coel’s jaw slackened as my fury hit him like a storm. His eyes glazed further, his back arching as his body greedily drank my pixie emotions. I stoked the fires of my most enraging memories.

  Drink up, my lovely sister. I could almost hear Abellio and his men laughing as I struggled for breath, my brother’s voice ringing above the rest. Fury blazed through my nerve-endings, igniting my mind until my body shook.

  Coel leaped from his chair, the bottle dropping from his hand. When it shattered on the floor, its intoxicating fumes filled the air. His body was rigid, fingertips straightening, his starvation perfectly sated. He roared, then slammed his fist into the mantle, showering bits of stone around him. His hair darkened, bull horns sprouting from his forehead, his eyes now the flickering orange and red of flames. He roared again, this time sounding more like an animal than man. The air froze around us, and my breath clouded the air. Goosebumps rose on my arms, and I smiled at him, my teeth bared wide. His fury matched my own, and it was glorious. Yes. Abellio must die.

  “They will pay!” he shouted. “The House of Balor will crush the Seelie!”

  “We will crush them together.” Roan rose, facing him. “The six courts must work together.”

  “Fight alongside my father’s killers? Never!” Drops of spittle flew from Corel’s mouth. “I will lead an assault on the Seelie with my men. We need no one else! The Court of Rage will crush their enemies.”

  I took a step closer to him, staring up at him. Evenly, I said, “I killed your father.”

  Coel’s fiery gaze met mine, his face reddened, arms thick as lampposts. Wrath shook his body. “What?”

  I could feel my canines lengthening, claws curling. By my side, Roan’s antlers shimmered into view as he reached for his sword. The temperature had dropped sharply in the room, and a sheen of ice frosted the floor where the puddle of fae nectar had spilled.

  I kept my voice calm. “Your father died honorably. It was his own decision. He asked me to kill him, rather than live a moment longer in his torment. There was no other way out for him. He asked for a mercy killing. I slit his throat, like he asked. And then I burned his torturer to death.”

  “You?” Coel snarled, fists tightened.

  “Your father was working with us. And now I’m asking you to do the same. Avenge him by destroying the Seelie who stole from you.”

  His lip curled, and for a moment, I was certain he was about to gore me to death. Metal scraped metal as Roan drew his sword.

  But to my surprise, a keen interest sparked in Coel’s eyes, and he studied me closely. He straightened, the horns disappearing from his head. He scratched his cheek. “Did she scream when she died? The interrogator?”

  “Oh yes.” I nodded. “She screamed, and it wasn’t a quick death. I saw the regret in her eyes.”

  “What did her scream sound like?” he asked.

  “Like a thousand evil spirits escaping her throat. Like a chorus of torment.” I embellished my story. “It was beautiful.”

  Coel clapped me on the shoulder. “Roan, I daresay your prime piece of pocket and I are kindred spirits.”

  I let out a shuddering breath, and as my nerves calmed, my claws retreated.

  “I will join your alliance,” Coel said. “But the return of the Balor Armory must be a prime objective. We must get it back. Can you guarantee that?”

  Roan hesitated for a moment, then sheathed his sword. “I give you my word. We will get it back once we defeat the immediate threat.”

  Coel nodded, a grim smile on his face, his eyes sparkling with renewed energy. “Very well. It was a pleasure to meet you, Cassandra Weala Broc. And… thank you for helping my father.” He grinned. “I’d give anything to feed from your rage again someday, Mistress of Dread. I must say it’s the richest, most exquisite fury I’ve tasted in a century.”

  Chapter 7

  I sat in the passenger seat of the Porsche as Roan switched on the engine, my body still buzzing with a mixture of nerves and rage.

  “Two down,” I said. “Plus your court. That leaves three. Any idea how to tackle them?”

  “The Weala Broc court is currently headed by Grendel.”

  “Wonderful. I’ve so missed that sludge-coated sex offender.”

  Roan pulled out into the road. “Unfortunately, he refuses to meet us, for now.”

  I bit my lip. “And what about the others? The Court of Dreams?
”

  “I’m a bit lost on that one,” he said darkly.

  The thought of my half-brother made bile rise in my throat. “Of course. Because it’s Abellio’s court.”

  “He’s missing, on the run from me. His court may remain loyal to him. They are hard to communicate with, and I don’t even know how to find them. I have always used Abellio as my ambassador in my dealings with them. A lamentable oversight.”

  “You don’t know how to find the Court of Dreams?”

  He shook his head. “They keep their court shrouded in mystery. The Court of Dreams is a court of secrets.”

  I nodded. “I know someone who has quite the store of secrets. In fact, he trades in secrets.”

  “No.”

  “I’m talking about Alvin,” I added.

  “No.”

  “He’ll know where it is and how to contact them. What is your problem with him, anyway?”

  Roan’s grip tightened on the wheel. “It’s not important. It’s in the past. In any case, we’ve done enough for today.”

  “God forbid you tell me anything. Shouldn’t I be able to read your thoughts or something by now?”

  “Barriers,” he said simply.

  “Oh. You’ve got barriers up and I have no idea how to use them. Wonderful.” There were certain things I could just never think about if I continued to spend time with Roan. Like that arsenal of iron weapons the CIA kept hidden from them, or the fact that a single nuclear bomb in Trinovantum would lay waste to the entire Unseelie race, or—nope. I couldn’t think about these things.

  He shot me a sympathetic look. “Let’s go home.”

  For a moment I felt a jolt of confusion. Home was a small apartment in Virginia. Just me and the cactus Scarlett bought me as a house warming gift. How long could a cactus go without water? Three months was probably pushing it. The cactus was gone, and my job in the FBI was long gone. I’d been AWOL for over two months, and even before that I hadn’t been very communicative. Realistically, I’d been evicted from my apartment.