by Arianna Skye
“I’ve always dreamt of one day living in such beauty, but my sister would’ve called me weak, so I left it as that—just a dream.”
Yep, Korrigan really had done a number on this gal. “You’ll get your chance, Aine. I promise.”
“I have to admit, Your Highness. When I met you in the guise of your friend, I knew in my heart you would make a great leader.” Aine smiled. “I saw your faerie spirit. My sister isn’t half the queen you’re destined to be.”
Well, if that wasn't an ego trip, Rhiannon didn't know what was. “Even though we've only just met, hearing that really means a lot. Thank you.”
“I speak the truth. There’s no need to thank me. I’m below your station anyway.” Aine etched more symbols in the dirt.
Rhiannon perused over Aine’s shoulder, trying to decipher her hieroglyphics. “What is that you’re drawing?”
“A prayer to the Goddess,” Aine replied. She drew what resembled an eye and knelt down before her artwork. She bowed her head in calm silence and traced her finger along the eye, lowering her head to kiss the earth. She lifted her head and stood, wiping flecks of dust and dirt from her bedraggled dress.
If she thought the White Faeries were weird, these Dark Faeries were even weirder. “What were you praying for?” Rhiannon asked. “I’m still trying to learn all these strange customs.”
“A prayer for forgiveness from those I’ve wronged.” Aine took a deep breath and set the branch down underneath her drawing. She stood, rolled the branch underneath the worn toe of her boot, and turned back around to face Rhiannon. Even though Aine tried to mask it, the sorrow radiated from her gaze.
Rhiannon decided if she was going to spend time with Aine, it was best to bond with her.
“Want to talk about it? Sometimes getting stuff off your chest can be better than holding it in.”
“I fell in—was attracted to someone I should not have been.” She brought her hand to her face and traced her knuckles along her lips. “My sister found out and wasn’t thrilled. She sent
him to the Outer Realm to punish him—and me.”
Outer Realm? That sounded like some Twilight Zone or Star Trek sort of shit. “What’s that?”
“They haven’t told you about the Outer Realm?”
Rhiannon shrugged. “My lessons were kind of cut short when your sister decided she needed to string me up like a decoration on her dungeon wall.”
“Oh.” Aine fisted her hands and ran the fingertips against her palms. “The Outer Realm is where the vilest criminals of the kingdoms are sent to spend the rest of eternity.” Wow! So even faeries had penal colonies? That was so eighteenth-century. Then again, these faeries did seem to have some ancient customs. “They call it prison where I used to live.”
“Only the most wretched of beasts are sent there, and Sionnach wasn’t wretched.” Aine bit her lip and continued to rub her palms.
Rhiannon’s ears perked up. Not only had Aine seen Sionnach, she’d known him. And from the sound of it, she had feelings for him too. Not surprising, if he looked anything like Cerne.
She gathered from Cerne’s descriptions that he was a total ladies’ man. A natural charmer, or so Cerne had said. With all his silent reserve, Cerne had a bit of charmer in him too.
“Sionnach?” Rhiannon asked, treading very carefully. “What an unusual name for a Dark Faerie.”
“He wasn’t a Dark Faerie. He was a White Faerie—one of Korrigan’s pleasure-slaves. I made the mistake of looking at him with a curiosity my sister did not appreciate. To punish me she made me watch–” She gulped and told Rhiannon the rest of the story, her face grim and lips stony, as if she were just a statue with no emotion. “She whipped him and sent him away.”
“So, Sionnach is still alive?” A deep warmth filled Rhiannon’s heart, giving her a new sense of hope. Her eyes brightened and a smile crept to her face. She couldn’t wait to tell Cerne the good news.
“How come you have an interest in Sionnach?” Aine’s eyes narrowed, a look akin to jealousy. “Aren’t you to be mated to your consort?” Mated? That sounded so— animalistic. “Yes, Cerne and I are joining.” Rhiannon scratched her chin and looked around. It was probably best to be honest with the faerie. There was no doubting the obvious. This woman had feelings for Cerne’s brother. “I don’t know quite how to say this, but I know I can trust you.” She locked eyes with Aine. “Sionnach is Cerne’s—my
consort-to-be’s—brother. If he’s alive, we need to find him.” Aine’s eyes widened in apparent shock. She threw a hand up to her face and sucked in a loud gasp. “What?”
“Sionnach is Cerne’s brother.” Rhiannon remained cheerful despite the fear that clouded Aine’s eyes.
“Oh, my deities,” she breathed, a fresh flow of tears streaming down her face. “What in Fey have I done?” Aine’s knees buckled beneath her and she slumped to the ground. Rhiannon dove to catch Aine, but ended up tripping on her boot. Aine’s head hit the hard ground with a deafening crack.
Rhiannon groaned. She was going to get lots of healing practice with this chick. She clasped her hands together then laid them on Aine’s head, just to be safe, even though she felt no bumps.
Several minutes later, Aine’s lids fluttered open. She moaned softly and rubbed her eyes as she struggled against Rhiannon to sit up.
“Don’t move, Aine.” Rhiannon gripped the other woman’s shoulders with all her might.
“You might have a concussion.” At Aine’s blank stare, she sighed. “A head injury?”
“I feel fine. You were laying your hands on me anyway. I can still feel your warmth.” Aine sighed. “I don’t know why you’re bothering. Your people won’t accept me—especially when they’ve found out what I’ve done.”
“What did you do?”
Aine’s voice cracked. “I-I sent a member of the White Faerie royal family to the Outer Realm.”
“You saved my life! They will love you.” Rhiannon brushed a sable curl from Aine’s face.
“I sent a royal brother to his death!” Aine wrenched herself around and stood on her still wobbly legs.
Rhiannon blinked. “But you just said he was alive.”
“You don’t understand.” Aine’s teeth chattered. “The Outer Realm is a horrible, evil filled place full of the lowest of the low. To be sent there is worse than death.” She broke into fit of sobs, falling back down to the ground with her face in her hands. “There is no escape. You’re doomed to an eternity of suffering, even if you’re sent there for petty reasons.” Rhiannon pulled Aine up to face her and flashed a stern glare. “First off, you did not send him away, Korrigan did. Secondly, you’re a good person. I can feel it inside you. Don’t let your
sister’s acts pull you down.”
“I just stood there and watched her manhandle him and did nothing to stop it.”
“Your sister would’ve killed you, and you know it.” Rhiannon removed her hands from Aine’s shoulders.
Aine rolled her top lip between her teeth as a tear streaked alongside her scar. “I would rather be dead than see Sionnach waste away in the Outer Realm.” Rhiannon opened her mouth to reply, but stopped abruptly in response to Aine’s loud gasp as she pointed up toward the sky.
A piercing shriek echoed in Rhiannon’s ear. She whipped around to see the dragon and its rider heading toward them at breakneck speed. The dragon’s wings flapped wildly as smoke billowed from its flared nostrils. Rhiannon groaned, taking in the rider. Big, hulky muscle bulged everywhere from his body, in places she didn’t even know muscles existed. Got steroids?
A loud roar of thunder burst through the air and a streak of fire shot out from the dragon’s nose, hitting a nearby tree. The fiery inferno consumed it in a large burst of flames and smoke.
“Bloody hell,” Rhiannon muttered. “Aine, get down!” She flung herself on top of her new friend as the dragon loomed above. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
Chapter Nineteen
With purposeful strides, Cerne pul
led himself out of his tent. The odor of burnt nuts and berries wafted through the air, stinging his nostrils. Berry nut mash, Cerne realized. Not his particularly favorite entrée. But when you were miles away from the safety of the castle, in the middle of the woods, you didn’t have much choice.
He scanned the encampment and spotted Maeve standing over the fire pit while Belenus gazed over her shoulder. Not his favorite chef, either. Maeve could cook up magic, but if food was involved, disaster always lingered nearby.
Maeve waved Cerne over toward the fire.
“Good morning, my friend.” Belenus handed Cerne a bowl full of the watery mush.
Cerne, despite his stomach’s disagreement, took the bowl and scooped some of the slushy slop onto his finger. Wincing, he took his finger into his mouth and swallowed. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as he expected. Cerne snatched up a water skin sitting next to him, and took a sip.
He wondered how the Wood folk survived on such a staple.
Maeve’s warm laughter echoed across their encampment. “Surely it isn’t that horrible?” Cerne chuckled. He wouldn’t lie. “It is—better than usual.”
“It’s delicious, mo cridhe,” He brought his wooden bowl up to his face and licked it clean.
“I always knew you had some Wood Faerie in you.” Cerne gave Belenus a friendly pat on the back.
“And is that a bad thing?” Belenus set his bowl down and grinned.
Cerne shook his head. “On the contrary, my friend. It’s a wonderful thing. Just make sure you do the cooking next time.” He turned to Maeve and gave her a consolatory smile.
Cerne took another sweeping gaze at their encampment. The fog of Maeve’s cloaking spell still hung about them, shielding them from the forest. “How well does this cloaking spell work?”
“Nothing—including the most magical of creatures—can break through the fog.” Maeve beamed, the pride evident in the sparkle of her peridot eyes.
“What about mind-talking?” Cerne asked with a hopeful breath. He would cling to the final straw of hope that he’d communicated with his princess the prior evening, but his heart fell at
Maeve’s next words.
”I’m afraid it blocks all psychic communication as well. We can’t have Korrigan pushing her way into our minds, can we?”
Cerne nodded. Maeve had a point. He knew Rhiannon was strong, but Korrigan was stronger, especially with the amulet in her possession. And what’s not to say Korrigan wouldn’t use his Rhiannon to outsmart them. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. The bitch would suffer if anything happened to Rhiannon.
“We’ll get her back, my friend. Have no fear.”
“I’m not fearful. I’m angry. I want Korrigan to suffer.” Cerne shuddered, knowing this wasn’t the White Faerie way.
“It’s the way of a mated consort, my friend. Even without the ritual, you have a tie to her,” Belenus said.
“I do not love her. There will be no love for a Silverwing.” Cerne drew his lips together in a straight line.
“Why do you keep denying it, Cerne?” Maeve asked, barging into their conversation.
How he wished Rhiannon was here to come up with some witty human euphemism in response.
“I have nothing to deny. We are not in love. It’s merely a physical bond—nothing more, nothing less.” With a hard scowl, he crossed his arms. “Now I’d appreciate it if we changed the subject.”
Maeve and Belenus gave each other quizzical looks and shook their heads. Why did they enjoy goading him so much? Maeve shrugged and lifted the corner of her lip in a smirk. Cerne hoped when Rhiannon was safe in his arms that she would bestow on him the knowledge to keep meddlesome Maeve from siphoning into his thoughts.
“Perhaps she will.” Maeve chuckled.
Cerne scowled. “You’re starting to irk me, you know that?” He sighed, realizing the more time they dallied, the more time Korrigan kept his princess captive. “We need to get moving.” He turned to Belenus. “And we need to contact Windstorm to check on him and his troops.”
“I realize your urgency, Cerne, I really do.” Maeve looked him in the eyes. “I thought the quick morning meal would give us energy we need to proceed on.” Cerne attempted a reassuring smile. “You thought well. I didn’t get a good night’s sleep,
even with the protection.”
Maeve took his hand in a friendly embrace. “Do you want to talk?”
“Nothing important. I had a dream, is all. I thought Rhiannon was calling out to me. She appeared to me then vanished.”
Maeve nodded. “You care for her and want her safe. I do not fault you for that. She’s your life-mate. It’s normal for you to dream of her.”
“I dream of Maeve whenever she isn’t around,” Belenus said, checking over the horses. He scrubbed his horse's forehead as it nuzzled against his chest. “Everything is ready to go.”
“Bel and his horses,” Cerne said, with a mirthful chuckle. “What would he do without them?”
Maeve tilted her head to her shoulder with a slight grin. “Me?” Cerne chuckled. “That would not surprise me in the least.”
“As I’ve said numerous times, Cerne.” With the smirk the size of an ogre, Maeve crossed her arms. “Your time will come.”
She turned away and scanned the encampment. “I believe it’s safe enough to call off the cloaking spell. We need to start moving anyway.”
Cerne nodded. “It’s daylight. None of the forest creatures will be lurking.” Throwing her head back, Maeve raised her hands high. “Oh Mother Goddess and Father God, we thank thee for the magical gifts you have bestowed upon us. We hope you look upon us with favor in the future. So mote it be.”
She waved her hands to the three directions, calling back each of the elementals, then knelt down, placing her head to the earth with her hands directly above. The fog around the encampment shimmered and faded around them. Birds and crickets chirped as the forest came into view.
Cerne gazed up to the sky. Gray clouds swirled and billowed above them. Darker clouds churned to the south. Korrigan’s army was on the move.
He turned to Belenus and Maeve. “I think it’s time to contact Windstorm. The storms appear very threatening.”
Maeve nodded. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. “I need help, my love. The troops are too far away.”
“But a messenger orb can travel for miles, can’t it?” Cerne asked.
Belenus shook his head. “The orb will be too noticeable when it floats through the air. The Dark Faeries would intercept the message in a matter of minutes.” Cerne scratched the growth of hair on his chin. “How do you plan to communicate?”
“Like so.” Belenus opened his mouth. The chilling screech from his mouth left Cerne speechless. In the distance another screech echoed. An eagle swooped down high in the air and landed on Belenus’s outstretched arm. It stood majestic and proud, its talons wrapped around Belenus’s arm. Lifting its head, with eyes searching the encampment, the magnificent bird chirped a greeting to Belenus.
Cerne could only stare in wonder. Belenus smiled, replying in another high-pitched chirp as he engaged the bird in steady conversation. Cerne turned to Maeve who beamed at her consort, pride and admiration shining in her eyes. If only he could have those same glances from Rhiannon he would die a happy faerie.
Cerne lowered his head to Maeve’s ear. “What is Bel doing?” he whispered.
“He’s giving the eagle a message. The general has similar abilities.”
“He can communicate with eagles?”
Maeve laughed. “No, he can talk with every type of bird, not only eagles. It’s not something he’d like bandied about the kingdom.”
Cerne furrowed his brow. He could only dream of having such a power. “Why ever not?”
“He’s a White Faerie general, and a haughty one at that. He has an image to maintain. And that image doesn’t include singing and trilling with the sparrows. Am I making sense?” Cerne shook his head with mirth. “It makes perfect sense.
A general with a magic skill normally reserved for a female. I’d probably feel the same if I was in his shoes.” Cerne steepled his fingers and rubbed his palms together. His lips curved upwards with mischief. He finally had one up on his childhood friend.
“The message is ready to be sent,” Belenus called over his shoulder. The bird remained perched on Belenus’s wrist, poised and regal.
Maeve approached man and bird. “Would you like me to offer a spell of protection?” She outstretched her hand, palm up, to the eagle. The bird pecked a few times at her hand as if making sure Maeve was safe and after a while chirped, allowing her to stroke his beautiful plumage.
“What is the bird saying, mo cridhe?”
Belenus chuckled. “He says you’re a beautiful woman. Frankly, I couldn’t agree more. He also says he welcomes your protection.”
Cerne smirked. “Smart bird.”
“Eagles are extremely intelligent creatures, actually.” Maeve laid gentle hands on the bird’s downy white head and again called to the God and Goddess for their protection. A foggy glow surrounded the bird, ensuring its safety. “Go, my winged-friend. Go with the Gods’ and Goddesses’ blessings.”
Belenus chirped and trilled, translating Maeve’s words. He thrust his arm out and the bird flapped its giant wings and took flight. It circled the encampment and caught a gust of air, soaring through the sky.
“Wonderful work, my friends,” Cerne said, watching the tiny speck that remained of the eagle fade in the distance. “Shall we get a move on now? I miss my princess.” Had he just said that? “I mean, I miss the intimacies we share.” Maeve and Belenus raised their eyebrows in unison. Damn their prying minds.
“If you say so,” Maeve said in a singsong voice.
“I know so.” Cerne crossed his arms and glared at them.