The Last Lullaby (The Spellsinger Book 1)

by Amy Sumida

  I would get out of Tír na nÓg, even if I had to sing my throat raw to do it. Nothing would stop me, not the onyx or its king.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “His Majesty requests that you join him for breakfast.” A woman stood beside my bed, looking mulish.

  She was as elegant looking as every other Shining One, but she was dressed simply, in layers of sturdy cotton, similar to what I was wearing. Her platinum-blonde hair was nearly white, but still had a hint of gold to it. Her eyes were a darker version of her hair, golden brown and long-lashed. She was pale, but not overly so, and had a pouty mouth, which I was pretty sure was putting extra effort into turning down, especially for me.

  “What?” I rubbed at my eyes and sat up. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I am Sara, my lady.” She gave me a grudging curtsy to go along with my grudging title. “King Torin has appointed me as your maid.”

  “Yeah?” I huffed as I heaved myself out of bed. “Well you can tell your king he can shove his maid” I frowned. “No, scratch that. Tell him . . . oh, forget it. I'll tell him myself.” I stretched my cramped muscles. “You guys got showers here?”

  “We're not barbarians,” she grumbled. “Of course we have showers. Water pressure was discovered by the Romans. Did you really think we couldn't figure it out?”

  “Wow, he stuck me with the snarkiest maid ever.” I looked her over and smiled. “You know what? I like you. I think we're going to get along just fine. Now show me where the damn bathroom is, Snarky Sara.”

  Sara gaped at me for about five seconds before she rushed to the wall and pushed aside the silk hangings to reveal a narrow door. She opened the door, and gave me another curtsy. I slid past her, into a sumptuous room of rose quartz walls, gold furnishings, and a porcelain tub shaped like a blossoming lotus. A golden stem wrapped around the tub, with thick leaves jutting out from it, to hold assorted bath products. Then it continued up, arching overhead, to dangle a showerhead into the center. There were no shower curtains, but the bathtub looked wide enough to catch any spray.

  Fluffy towels were set on the lotus-carved lid of the toilet, candles were placed on the layers of petals spreading out from the sides of the tub, and a full-length mirror, which might or might not have once belonged to Snow White's wicked stepmother, dominated one wall. I walked over the cool, onyx floor, and sighed in disappointment. I guess it had been too much to hope that Torin would have forgotten to add onyx to the bathroom.

  “He could have told me about the hidden door last night,” I muttered to Sara. “What if I'd had to pee?”

  “I imagine you would have used a vase.” She grimaced.

  I burst out laughing, startling her again.

  “Actually I couldn't,” I smirked. “On account of throwing the vase at the wall last night. Now, did you happen to bring me anything to wear?”

  “Yes, of course.” She rolled her eyes. “As if His Majesty would allow you to attend him in that.” Sara looked disdainfully at my simple dress.

  “How shocking that would be.” I gave a fake gasp and clutched at my invisible pearls. Aka, the gasp and clasp.

  Sara snickered.

  “I shall be outside when you're ready to get dressed.” She shut the door on me.

  “Thank the gods,” I called out to her. “I thought for a second you were going to stay and watch. Damn perverted fairies.”

  I heard her surprised laugh through the door.

  Then I took a nice, hot shower, and worked some of the tension out of my shoulders. I went out into the bedroom naked, carrying only the contents of my pockets. Sara hadn't brought the change of clothes in to me, and I'm not really shy in front of other women. What's the point? They have the same goods, and they're usually not interested in mine. Plus, this woman was there to help me dress; she was gonna see me naked eventually.

  Sara lifted her brows, her gaze stuck somewhere it shouldn't be unless she was into ladies. Possible, totally possible, but it was more likely that something else had caught her attention. Or a lack of something else.

  “It's waxed,” I told her. “Warm wax is applied, then a cloth, and after it cools a bit, the whole thing is yanked off, pulling out all the hair.”

  She gaped at me in horror.

  “It's not as bad as it sounds.” I chuckled. “Plus, I like it smooth- feels cleaner to me.”

  “This is a human practice?” Sara waved her hands at my lady bits.

  “Yep.” I made a motion for her to hand me the dress she was holding hostage. “You got any underwear, or just the dress?”

  “Undergarments are right there.” Sara waved distractedly to an elaborate chair, set in front of an even more elaborate vanity. There was a stack of silky things on the seat.

  “Thanks.” I went over, deposited my items on the vanity, and pulled on the underwear. I wasn't sure how well the little scraps of silk would hold up my full breasts, but I gave it a go, and it seemed to work fine. Sexy in a barely there, scandalous sort of way.

  “My lady.” Sara held up the much more formidable heft of the fairy dress. It looked like yards of silk and velvet had been sacrificed to construct it.

  “Okay,” I sighed, and ducked beneath the skirts.

  I came up through the neck hole, my arms slipping through the silk chiffon sleeves like a swimmer surfacing for air. Sara settled the massive amounts of material around me, laced up the back with sharp pulls, and pushed me down onto the vanity seat. I was pretty sure that fairy princesses weren't manhandled like this, but I didn't really mind.

  I tucked my iPod into my bodice, swept on some lipstick, then sat back to watch her work on my thick hair. Sara was a pink tourmaline Shining One. It looked as if she had some kind of beauty magic that the tourmaline magnified. Kind of perfect for a lady's maid. Sara twirled her fingers above my head, while her jewelry glowed with power. My hair seemed to curl and braid itself, settling into elaborate configurations under Sara's supervision. So elaborate that I began to have concerns over ever getting my hair loose again. But the end result was very pretty. And dry. Somehow she had managed to dry my hair as she worked.

  “Nice,” I said when she was done.

  “Nice?” Sara huffed. “That's a coiffure worthy of a countess.”

  “Yeah? Well, a countess coiffure gets 'nice.' If it had been worthy of a queen, I would have come up with a better word.”

  She stood glowering at me for two seconds before she gave in, and twisted her pouty lips up into a smile.

  “Okay, Sara, enough primping. Where's your king?” I stood.

  “I shall take you to him, my lady.” She walked to the bedroom door and rapped briskly on it.

  A knight in full livery opened the door, nodded to Sara, then looked at me warily. “I have to put these on you, m'lady.” He held up a pair of steel bracelets. Just slim bands of polished metal . . . with thick bands of onyx set inside them.

  “What do they do?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

  “Ground your magic,” he said grimly as he stepped into the room, and shut the door behind him with an ominous click.

  Oh, why couldn't Torin's men be as stupid as MacLaine's had been?

  “Fine.” I held out my hands.

  The knight handed the bracelets to Sara and stood watching me carefully as she put them on. Another smart move, damn him. Sara flipped them open, there was a discreet hinge at one side, and some kind of keyhole at the other. Once open, I could see the onyx clearly, nicely polished bands of it. The stone was surprisingly warm when placed against my wrists. They clicked into place, and I was left with a shiny new set of bracelets. Just like Wonder Woman's Bracelets of Submission. Except I was more like Weakened Woman, and these bracelets worked their submission powers against me instead of my enemies. Their name was appropriate though.

  “Happy?” Sara snapped at the knight after she finished locking my magic up.

  “I'm only doing my duty, Sara.” The knight huffed and walked out.

  “Oh damn,” I whisp
ered to her. “Got 'em all under your thumb, eh?”

  She gave me a saucy wink. Yep, I liked this girl.

  Sara led me downstairs and through several twisting hallways until we came out into an overturned punch bowl. Yep, the ceiling was a big, glass dome. Beneath it was a garden of luscious blooms, fruit trees, other assorted foliage, and onyx statuary. Onyx stepping-stones led to an onyx fountain, bubbling happily beneath the stretching arms of a maple tree. The air was misty cool, fragrant with the scent of fruit and flowers. Sunlight filtered through the lazy tree branches, scattering shifting patterns across the grass. If I hadn't already noticed the glass dome above, I could have easily believed we were outdoors.

  Torin sat at a full-size dining table, set beside the gurgling fountain. He stood as I approached, and came around the table to pull out a seat for me. I lifted a brow at the silver settings, porcelain dishes, and crystal glasses. There was a vase of massive flowers and ivy in the center of the table, trailing the sharp leafed vines around steaming platters of food. Above all this, hanging from a sturdy branch, a crystal chandelier sparkled with fairy lights. A chandelier. Of course there was a chandelier hanging from a tree in Tír na nÓg. Why wouldn't there be one?

  Sara bobbed a curtsy, and hastily retreated to the entrance of the dome. I guess it was a garden room. Or an atrium, solarium, arena . . . whatever. I sat, Torin sat, and then he poured me tea from a silver teapot that looked as if it belonged in seventeenth century Russia. I watched Torin with utter bewilderment as he placed the cup before me, nudged the sugar bowl in my direction, and then started filling my plate with an assortment of strange food. The scent of vanilla and fresh bread wafted up to my twitching nose, pushing away the scents of the garden.

  “Thanks, Hatter.” I shook my head as he daintily took a sip of his tea.

  “Yes, I suppose that's fair.” Torin looked around the room, then down the table filled with food. “I would have invited the Dormouse and the March Hare, but they were busy this morning.”

  I smiled at his quick response. I knew the Shining Ones were as well versed in human culture as I was, but it was a little startling to come face-to-face with a fairy who spoke like a modern man right in the middle of a Tír na nÓg Wonderland.

  “And thanks for my Bracelets of Submission.” I lifted my wrists. “Do they deflect bullets too?”

  “Not quite,” he smirked. “Though I can assure you, you won't be shot at in Tír na nÓg.”

  “What a relief. So”-I looked around-“there's something that's been bugging me.”

  “Yes?”

  “Where are all the lesser fey?” I peered suspiciously at him. “The pixies, goblins, and all those other critters you have here. I've only seen Shining Ones. Do you have the lesser fey locked up in your sex dungeons with your other slaves?”

  Torin choked on his tea.

  “My what?”

  “Your sex dungeon. You know”-I sipped my tea-“the place where you keep all your human sex slaves. S&M Central, Fifty Shades of Fairy, Fuc”

  “Yes, I get it.” He held up a hand and cut me off. “I have no dungeon or sex slaves.”

  “No?”

  “No.” Torin cocked his head at me. “I admit that my people are prone to pursuing pleasure, but there are varying degrees of hedonism here. Not all of us are like King Galen. I, for example, am more reserved in my tastes.”

  “So where are the lesser fey, if not in your dungeon?” I teased.

  Who knew a conversation with my captor could be so fun?

  “The lesser fey live in Primeval,” Torin explained. “They're too wild for the Jewel Kingdoms.”

  “Primeval?”

  “The ancient forests that lie on the outskirts of our kingdoms. They are happiest there. We don't force them into banishment or anything horrid like that, so you can remove that nasty expression of disapproval, Elaria,” he chided. “They choose the freedom of Primeval over the restrictions of kingdom life.”

  “Oh,” I thought about it. “I suppose they would be happier in the wild. I can't see a kelpie enjoying this,” I waved a hand at the room.

  “Just so,” Torin nodded. “There's an ocean in Primeval, as well as several lakes. The aquatic fey rarely leave, for obvious reasons.” Then Torin looked pointedly at my dress. “You look lovely in blue.”

  “I just realized that the color matches your eyes,” I noted. “Did you choose this dress?”

  “No,” he smiled, “and the color matches your eyes also. Well . . . sometimes. They're currently turning a deep shade of amethyst.”

  I went still, my smile falling away abruptly. I've had lovers tell me how my eyes went deep purple when I was feeling amorous.

  “What did I say?” Torin frowned.

  “Nothing.” I cleared my throat, and took stock of my emotions.

  Yeah, okay, so Torin looked really amazing this morning. He had on a deep gold tunic and brown, leather pants. The earthy colors actually turned his eyes a darker shade of blue. The velvet tunic stretched across the expanse of his wide shoulders, pulling tight in places and giving me glimpses of smooth, muscled flesh in its gaping neckline. Damn it all; I needed to kick this guy's ass before I did something naughty with it. Too bad I was a little restricted by my jewelry at the moment.

  “I have something to show you.” Torin handed me a fashion magazine.

  “What's this?” I took it, looking over the smiling woman on the cover.

  “This is Nila.” He pointed at the blonde model. “I thought it might be a good idea to offer you proof of life.” He tapped the corner. “See the date?”

  “I believed you.” I tossed the magazine into an empty chair beside me. “You didn't have to shove her in my face.”

  There was a strange twinge of something in my chest. I didn't like looking at the woman. The supremely gorgeous woman. It made me feel . . . oh, fuck me, it made me jealous. I was feeling jealous! Oh, I was going to kiss this guy's . . . er, I mean kick, I was going to kick this guy's ass so hard. I hadn't been jealous in like . . . like . . . ever. It was her blonde hair, and her perfect face, and her big eyes, and her . . . ugh! This was his last girlfriend? And he broke up with her? Now he wanted me? Yeah, right.

  “You have no reason to believe me, so thank you for your trust,” he said sincerely. “Elaria, uh, I . . .” He sighed. “May I call you Elaria?”

  “Sure,” I smirked as I popped a berry in my mouth. “If I can call you Torin.”

  It was a ridiculous request, and I knew it. The man was a fairy king; to drop his title suggested a familiarity that was.

  “You may absolutely call me Torin.” He smiled, and my mouth went dry. “Until you come up with something more intimate.”

  “Wow,” I snickered as I reached for my cup. “That big head of yours must get heavy. How do you manage to hold it up?”

  “The stones said we'd be together.” He shrugged as if it were a foregone conclusion.

  I don't think any woman enjoys being a foregone conclusion. I liked it even less than seeing his last lover plastered over the cover of a magazine.

  “The stones said you would fall.” I lifted my chin. “But they didn't say I would.”

  Torin's smile faded.

  “And how do you even know that's what they meant?” I went on. “They could have been warning you that I was going to kick your ass. Or trip you.”

  “Elaria.” His voice was so damn sexy, especially when he was serious, which he suddenly was. “There's so much more that I need to tell you.”

  Why did he have to speak like that? Dear gods, why? I was susceptible to sounds. It's a spellsinger thing. It was like my hearing was an erogenous zone.

  “Yes?” I prompted him when he hesitated.

  “You have been thrust into a war,” he said gently. “Galen sent you to kill me, not because of any familial loyalty, but because he needed me dead so he could further his own agenda. He couldn't kill me himself, so he's been sending assassins.”

  “Yeah, well, I failed at killin
g you too.” I frowned. “Among the humans I'm powerful, even in the Beneath. But here, in Tír na nÓg, I'm nothing special. All you needed was a little warning from your rocks, and you were able to subdue me. Hell, a pair of bracelets are subduing me right now.”

  “You're stronger than you think.” His eyes shifted into a brighter blue. “And Galen is a fool. He sent me the only person necessary to winning this war.”

  “I couldn't even break out of my bedroom last night,” I huffed without thinking.

  “I knew you'd try.” Torin laughed.

  Internally, I groaned. I probably shouldn't have told him that. What was with me and this guy?

  “My point is”-I rolled my eyes-“if you could trap me so easily, how could I be imperative to winning a Shining Ones war?”

  “Witchcraft,” he said succinctly.

  “Witchcraft?” I blinked at him.

  “The craft of the witches.” He nodded. “Spells, magic, enchantments, etcetera.”

  “Yes, I know who the witches are.”

  “I would hope so,” he chuckled. “But did you know they nearly wiped us out once?”

  “What? No, I didn't.”

  “Yes.” Torin frowned. A flicker of something more than irritation, possibly something truly painful, crossed his face. “It was before I was born, but it has been well recorded in our histories. The Shining Ones decided that Earth was wasted on the humans, and that we should control it. The witches got wind of the plot and acted first. They tore open the Veil and marched through Tír na nÓg, leveling kingdoms and obliterating any who opposed them.”

  A chill coasted over my skin. My father had said something to me once, which I'd thought to be bravado, but now realized it had been simple truth. “If not for us witches, those fucking fairies would have taken over the Earth long ago.” He had to have meant this war Torin was talking about.

  “How did it end?” I asked.

  “Thankfully with a truce,” Torin made a gruff sound. “The witches pulled back their armies, and agreed to leave Tír na nÓg on two conditions.”