OF WAR Anthology Novels 1-3

by Lisa Beth Darling

  It was his quick reflexes and a bit too much strength that brought her crashing down, not on the steps but onto her ass just in front of them. Alena let out a shrill cry of agony when her bottom struck the stone. Dropping to his knees too late to catch her, he turned her back toward him when she began falling full out onto the oversized stoop. “Alena?” The wind was gone from her lungs; she struggled for air as she held one hand out to him and the other to Raven. “Relax, my Love, you’ll be fine it a moment,” he encouraged as his heart raced inside his chest and he dared to look back at the entrance to the Grand Palace. His glance was just in time to see one of the heavy drapes of the entryway falling back. Holding her closer still, his eyes turned to the steps and the fall she almost took. Wouldn’t Zeus have loved that? If she fell that distance, her stomach leading the way, Raven might well be killed before he was even born. That would certainly solve one of Zeus’ problems and ensure that he was innocent in the matter. It was an accident that she slipped and fell; he would not be responsible for killing another Olympian and therefore he would never face the punishment—death.

  Looking back down into her frightened face as he scooped her up into his arms, he watched her teardrops freeze to her cheeks and become sorrowful icicles clinging to her lashes. “We’re going home. I’ll have you warm and safe in our bed in ten minutes.”

  Carefully making his way down the steps with Alena in his arms, her breath began hitching in her chest as she tried to talk. “Ey—I t-ol-d you th-ey h-h-h-ate me,” she gasped, one hand holding her belly where Raven kicked and rolled, the other looped around his neck, pulling her face closer to the nape of his neck and the warmth he offered.

  Now they both understood just how deep that ran.

  At the gates to the Fortress, Eros was waiting for them. Ares had been too busy keeping one eye on the icy path ahead of him and the other on his weeping Wife to see Eros flying above them. “What do you want? Get out of the way, I have to get her inside,” Ares barked as he saw Eros blocking his path. Instead of hindering him, Eros threw open the heavy doors of the Fortress so that Ares could bring Alena in where it was warm. Just through the entryway, Ares turned around to block Eros from following. “Thank you. Good night.” The doors shut and locked in Eros’ face, leaving the Winged God of Love in the snow with the tip of his nose nearly snipped away from his handsome face.

  Rushing her up the stairs and into their bedroom, the door there also slammed shut and locked when they entered. Ares settled her on the bed. “Where does it hurt?”

  Her senses were starting to come back to her along with the breath in her lungs, which made it easier to think. Raven was doing flip-flops; she felt no pain there and so he was quite safe from the fall. Her butt and the small of her back, however, told quite another story. Before she could relay that story to her worried Husband, he waved a hand in the air and all of her clothing disappeared. “No, Ares, don’t I’ve…I’ve…”

  Looking from his newly naked Wife, her arms wrapped around her protectively in answer to the sudden disappearance of her clothes, to that same clothing now strewn over the chair, he saw they were wet. Soaking, actually, with a bright stain on the seat of the pretty blue velvet gown she’d worn tonight. Round in shape and appearing green on the dark edges, he knew the stain’s original color was yellow and that Alena lost her water when her ass collided with Zeus’ stoop. The only reason he didn’t notice earlier was the absorbency of the thick lambskin coat. “Are you all right?” He held up the coat to show her the stain. “Did your water break?”

  “No.” Tears of embarrassment shining in her gray eyes, Alena shook her silver head. “I’m sorry, I…I had…an acc-ci-dent.” Even to her own ears, her whisper sounded like groveling. Feeling like a whale out of water, she struggled to roll onto her side and show him the deep bruising forming where her milky skin should be.

  “Poor Alena, don’t worry, everything’s all right,” he soothed, trying to keep any tone of pity from his voice—an emotion Ares was unaccustomed to feeling and one Alena would not want cast in her direction now—as he reached out to run his bare hand along the new bruise. Ares wasn’t seeking to heal or even ease the pain of the bruise, but rather he was inspecting her spine from the small of her back to her tailbone looking to see if it had broken. Satisfied that the bones were probably just bruised as her flesh was unbroken, he leaned over her. “My Father is such an ass, I’m sorry he upset you so much.” He’d lay an ice pack under her but Alena was always cold, so he pulled her up to a half-seated position against the soft pillows piled on her side of the bed and felt his heart tug when she let out a groan of discomfort. “I know it hurts.” He kissed the top of her head as he brought the blanket around her, more concerned with her current physical condition than Zeus’ accusation.

  “I’m not one of them,” she whispered through her tears, the icicles on her eyelashes melting and adding their number to the steadily running river. “It’s not true.”

  Alena wasn’t looking at him; her eyes were fixed on the blazing hearth as she spoke. Ares knew that look and that distant tone. “Who are you trying to convince here?” He leaned across the bed so that his face was fully in front of her gaze, blocking out the fire beyond. “Not me, I already know who you are.”

  The promise of a swift end to this night in his voice brought the distance out of her eyes. “You do?”

  “You’re Magdalena MacLeod, daughter of Norman MacLeod—a human man— and Maven—a Fey— just as you said.” Brushing the tears away from her cheeks with a strong hand, he finished his thought, “You’re my Wife and I love you.”

  “What if…I’m not? What if Zeus is right?”

  Sliding into the bed next to her, Ares dismissed his boots and shirt for the night as he wrapped his arms around her and brought her head to rest on his chest. “You are,” he asserted but rushed forward when he knew she was going to protest once more. “Earlier today you told me you would love me no matter what I truly am, didn’t you?” Alena gave no vocal response but she did nod. “Why should I feel any differently? Don’t you trust my love for you?” Now her head tilted upward with stormy uncertain eyes as he laced his fingers through hers. “This is Olympus, my Father considers this fun. A game. A horrible treacherous game designed to torture you, us, to foster doubt, most especially in your mind.” Holding her a little closer while she trembled at his side and Raven kept turning within her, Ares stroked her hair with his free hand and kissed her forehead. “Don’t let him,” he whispered, still with his full lips to her head, “I love you and that’s all that matters.” Ares already felt that Zeus was winning; he’d found a hidden weakness and exploited it to the fullest just like in the Good Old Days. Doubt was instantly and firmly planted in her mind. If he couldn’t stop it from growing then he would have to go in and root it out.

  “You don’t understand,” she said in a trembling voice as her stare met his, “they’re horrible, wicked, evil creatures. Ares—I—I…” Everything Zeus said about the Fae of the Dark Kingdom was true and the thought of their blood, no matter how weak, running through her veins made her skin crawl.

  “What do you know about them?” Ares prodded as he kept her close.

  Alena spun a tale. One Ares already knew but was curious to hear her tell.

  Chapter Four

  Once Upon A Time…

  The Fae of the Dark Kingdom and Fey of the Golden Lands were one clan with three castes; the Religious Caste and workers of spells and magick, now known as those of the Dark Kingdom. This Caste was almost exclusively women and they were, according to legend, the most beautiful women in all of the land. The males born into this Caste were generally thought of as being less than the women; as such, they were used for servants and breeding stock to keep the lines of the Caste vital.

  The Peasant Caste—the largest Caste by far (isn’t it always?)—consisted of farmers, blacksmiths and trade workers, made from an equal mix of strong men and cheerful women. Now they were known as the Fey of the Golden Lands,
so named for the fields of wheat and barley that grew wild around them.

  The Ruling Caste, which no longer existed. These were almost exclusively men; the women among them were either wives (by osmosis, cousins) or consorts. Daughters were frowned upon and only sons were heralded as being worthy.

  Everyone lived fairly well and very happily until the World of Men intruded upon the serenity of the Treetop Village. At first they were welcomed; they came, they traded, they drank in the taverns, and they left. Men don’t always pay what things are worth, and many times they simply reach out and snatch away whatever they desire. They came to desire the willowy women of the village; those in the Religious Caste were the most desired but they were inaccessible for the most part, seen only from a distance in their high treetops. The Peasant Caste, their women were beautiful as well, and they were accessible.

  The Religious Caste warned against such cross marrying and breeding. They railed against the mixing of bloodlines.

  The Ruling Caste didn’t see things the same. To them, the largest Caste was overrun with young fuckable daughters, so many that they wouldn’t be missed for the village’s own breeding purposes. Men were willing to pay fees that were beyond tempting and into obscene. Therefore, to the aristocrats, those young supple women were an untapped commodity. Suddenly young women were taken away from their homes in the dead of night and either given over to a ready buyer or, if the family were perhaps late on the newly levied taxes, she would be put up at public auction to pay off the debt. On occasion, if the price was right, women from the Religious Caste were known to simply vanish, though with far less frequency than the women of the Peasants.

  After many years of this suffering, the Peasant Caste rose up and threw a bloody coup; the Religious Caste, who used their knowledge of spells and magick to defeat the Ruling Caste, joined them. Unfortunately, in this case they were defeated to the point of extinction, which was not the intent of the Peasant Caste. Yet, when all was said and done, the two Castes agreed to rule the Golden Lands jointly, sharing and giving equal power.

  Power is not something that is easily, or even willingly, shared.

  After the war, the Men continued coming to the village trying to buy the Fey women. When they could not, they began abducting them. The Religious Caste was called upon to put armed guards around the sleepy village. For a while, Men continued their skirmishes and their attacks as the Peasant Caste struggled to rebuild and the Religious Caste beat them back. With each new attack, each new attempt at abduction from either the village or the surrounding area, the Religious Caste took the lessons and they learned. Soon the Men stopped coming because they knew that, no matter what they tried, only death and defeat awaited them—at the hands of a bunch of women no less.

  While the Peasant Caste—both men and women—tilled the fields, brought in the harvest, tended the livestock and rebuilt the village, the Religious Caste delved deeper and deeper into the blacker arts of magick. Something that, before Men came, was forbidden by the laws of the Fey.

  The Religious Caste slowly split into two groups, the newly evolved Warrior Caste—something the peaceful little village had no prior use for—and the newly evolved Mage Caste, both of which preyed upon the peaceful, timid nature of the Feys they were supposed to protect.

  The Warrior Caste had a taste for blood and vengeance that could not be sated. Long after the Men stopped coming, they hunted them on the roads in the dead of night. At first, they killed them outright and took whatever was in their pockets. Then the Mages showed them the Dark Arts of Love Magick, Potions, and Amulets, but no magick was stronger than the Arts of Seduction and Sex. In this, the beautiful Warrior Feys became very adept and proficient.

  At night, they took to the paths in the woods, and made their way to the Villages of Men for their own nefarious purposes. They went to the taverns where the men were easily found. They hung out in the shadows of back alleys where men were sure to happen by. When he did, it was just a matter of time before his world came crashing down around him. He may never have done anything wrong in his life, but that didn’t matter to the Warriors still grieving the loss of their Sisters stolen in the night or bartered away by the Ruling Caste. With sweet words and soft touches, they worked their way into a man’s heart, his wallet, his home, his life. From the very first kiss until she was satisfied, he was nothing more than a toy for the Warrior to play with. And she would not be finished until she’d avenged her lost Sisters by taking every last penny, leaving him homeless, humiliated, destitute, and, ultimately, lifeless at her feet.

  This did not sit well with the Peasant Caste who preferred to let the past go and look to the future. Besides, for the most part, the Warriors had no way of knowing if they were exacting revenge against a guilty party; to the Peasants, the innocent should never suffer, no matter what their race. Many of the men the Warriors preyed upon had not only wives, but children. They were left alone, abandoned by the seduced male who left them for the Warrior and never lived long enough to regret his decision. Children in the villages of men were growing up without fathers while their mothers wailed and fell into despair.

  It wasn’t long before there was another war, more blood shed, move lives lost. Not due to any skill but simply to their number, the Peasants overthrew the Mages and Warriors. The practice of Dark Magick and Seduction was outlawed; in fact, the practice of all Magick, except that done with candle or herb, was done away with in the village, as were the Castes. The Peasants decided they would rule themselves and they would protect themselves against all who would seek to harm their way of life, including the Warriors and Mages. They were given the option of denouncing their ways, turning back to the Light, and remaining with their kin. Only a very small handful stayed to work the land. With much shame and sorrow, the tattered remains of the Warriors and Mages were cast out of the village and sent far away. They would only be allowed to return only after their utter hatred for Men abated and when they could prove they had come back to their senses and their true peaceful nature.

  They never did.

  For a time, the two new tribes of Fey and Fae kept in tentative touch but as with all things, in Time, that contact faded away. The Fey of the Golden Lands and the Fae of the Dark Kingdom had not come together in a thousand years.

  “As far as I know, if any are still alive, they still wander the roads at night feeding off men.” Alena looked up at her Husband with watery eyes and frowned. “They can’t stop, they’re addicted to the rush and the chase. Those in my village used to whisper they stole men’s souls, just like Cernunnos tried, to increase their own power and their own status.”

  Ares sat there, holding her chilly hand and beaming with pride. Zeus expected her to come back here with Ares and lie to his face. She did not. Instead, painful as it was to tell this dark story of her kin’s past, Alena told him nothing but the truth, just as he already knew it to be. “And you? Which Caste were your lines from?”

  Alena wanted to say the Peasant Caste, but given Zeus’ accusation and her inability to defend herself, “I—I don’t know.”

  Chapter Five

  The Hatfields & the McCoys

  I

  Apollo and Aphrodite retreated to the sensual warmth of Aphrodite’s Temple where they sat gossiping over chalices of Nectar. Aphrodite was stunned by Zeus’ accusation. “Alena? From the Dark Kingdom? Zeus has to be out of his mind,” she said as she took down a long drink of Nectar from her pink crystal chalice.

  “Taking her side?”

  “What? No,” she waved a hand in the air as she crossed those statuesque legs, allowing the wisp of organza to float away from her body and expose her milky flesh. “But don’t you think it’s just…bizarre?” she asked, rolling her blue eyes upward and curling her upper lip. When Apollo showed no reaction, she grew a bit more serious and leaned toward him. “Do you think it’s true?”

  “I think Olympus is about to quake down to its very foundation.” Apollo leaned forward and reached out with his fingertip
s to trace them along her thigh. “You better choose a side—the right side,” he advised darkly.

  Alena. She was so willowy and sweet. Aphrodite had a hard time getting her head around the idea that she might be of the Dark Kingdom. Yet there was an argument to be made, a circumstantial argument or so it seemed at the moment, but on Olympus rumor, gossip and innuendo were more than enough to stir up the most heated trouble. Zeus hated Alena, and even if it was an outright lie, he’d do everything he could with it to twist it into something you couldn’t not believe. “Batten down the hatches, my dear Apollo; it’s going to be a bumpy ride.” The Goddess of Love slithered off her pink velvet chair and up Apollo’s leg where her head tilted upward for the kiss he didn’t hesitate to bestow.

  II

  “What in the name of all the Gods is wrong with you, Zeus? How could you make such an outrageous accusation? At my table no less!” Hera was beside herself. It took her nearly ten minutes just to calm herself to where she could get up from the table after her guests made their hasty retreat. Now they were standing in Zeus’ bedroom, a room they once shared very happily, arguing at the top of their lungs. Hera couldn’t stop wringing her hands for fear that if she did, she’d find them around his wrinkled old neck.

  “Like I said, it’s my table,” Zeus shot back, “you wait, you’ll see, I’m right about this, Hera. I am.” Since Ares’ wedding, Zeus spent his time delving into Alena’s past, her ancestry, her history. After all, she was now his daughter-in-law and about to give birth to his first grandchild in over two thousand years; he felt he should know everything he could about her. He searched very high and he searched very low and came up with nearly nothing. Before Morrowind came to the Fey Village in the Trees, there was nothing about her. That got Zeus to thinking and when Zeus got thinking it was nearly always a disastrous thing. He surmised there was no information on Morrowind because she was not a Fey, she’d run from Cernunnos just as Alena would hundreds of years later, and she found safe haven in the unassuming peaceful little village where she took on an assumed identity and probably an assumed name.