The Exile: Book One of the Fae

by C. T. Adams

  “Of course.”

  “And send a message to Segall. We need to reschedule my appointments for the next week. I am going hunting.”

  Segall was his secretary, a clever, hard-working individual who toiled quietly behind the scenes to make sure that everything in Leu’s life ran smoothly. Most of the time he even succeeded.

  “I will. I have a message for you from him as well.”

  “Oh?”

  “The first of the three statues finally arrived. It is perfect. The spells are quite potent. He’s arranged for it to be delivered to Brianna. The artist claims he is nearly finished with the other two—you should receive them in a matter of weeks.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Leu snorted in derision. “All three statues were supposed to be done years ago.”

  “I know. But he really does do beautiful work, worth waiting for. I’m sure you’ll agree when you see it in Brianna’s apartment.”

  Leu smiled at Teo. He knew he was being managed, but the old man did it so well. It occurred to the king that he’d been taking his friend for granted, which simply wouldn’t do. “When was the last time you took a vacation?”

  “It has been a while, but I don’t mind. We’ve been busy.”

  “Well, as I’m going to be gone hunting, I won’t be here to need your services. I think that would make this a perfect time for you to go on another one of your expeditions to the other side of the veil.” Leu stepped under the spray, rinsing soap from his body. “Shall I tell Brianna to expect your arrival through the portal? Or would you rather I chased down someone with human magic to send you somewhere else?”

  “Your majesty is too kind, but there is much to be done here, even when you are away.”

  “Nonsense, you’ve earned this and more.” Leu’s smile was warm, and more real than it had been just seconds before. Teo really did deserve a holiday, and Leu wanted him out of the way if, as their interrogation victim of earlier suggested, the palace would come under attack soon. Teo was human, and fragile, and, thanks to his frequent trips to the human side of the veil, he had aged. He was no longer the brash young man who Leu’d saved from being murdered by a jealous husband. Time might have stopped for him in Faerie, but on Earth it passed on inexorably, leaving its mark on Teo each time he set foot on her soil.

  Brianna, too, would age, though more slowly thanks to her Sidhe blood. Unless she chose to return home to Faerie his daughter would eventually look older than siblings hundreds of years her senior—older even than her father come to that.

  He poured shampoo in his palm and began working it through his hair. Brianna was a concern. This might not be the best time for her to use the statue. Then again, any time was a good time for a baby. And really, she had no excuse for not having provided him with a grandchild long ago. She was human, far more fertile than her Sidhe half siblings. She could have done. She’d simply chosen not to. She would resent being manipulated, having him force her hand. But she’d get over it … eventually. And coming back to Faerie with a baby would soften the Sidhe nobles’ hearts toward her. That was a good, and very necessary thing.

  It was also necessary that he deal with Ulrich and his obsession with his son Viktor’s disappearance.

  “Yes, a hunt is exactly what we need.” Leu was speaking more to himself than his servant, but Teo answered.

  “I’ll have Segall make the arrangements,” Teo assured him. “Who will be joining you?”

  Leu turned off the shower. Stepping out he took the towel Teo extended to him and began drying himself. As he did, he considered the answer to Teo’s question.

  7

  ASARA

  The king was in a very odd mood, Asara thought as she looked across the fire at where he sat eating bison roasted in the camp pit. They’d hunted and killed the beast that very morning. The king’s teeth gleamed red in the flickering firelight. The chill breeze played with the front of his ebon hair; his long braid disappeared into the blackness of his leather tunic. He seemed wild, and more than a little dangerous.

  Looking at him now, so unlike the crafty political creature she’d always known, Asara felt disconcerted. She couldn’t remember Leu ever having led a hunt in all the many years she’d known him. Still, he’d been good at it, and was obviously having a good time laughing and joking with Ulrich and the three nobles he’d invited along. Wine and strong drinks flowed freely as they tossed six-sided dice in a round shield taken from one of the king’s personal guards.

  Ulrich threw back his head and laughed, his craggy features breaking into a fierce grin that made Asara shudder. Leu was joking … with Ulrich of all people—a man whom Asara would have sworn on the truthstone was not capable of anything resembling mirth. Asara thought she knew Ulrich well thanks to the many years she had spent turning him ever so subtly against Leu’s human daughter. Ulrich’s now-obvious and growing dislike of the child had driven a wedge firmly between the two men, but tonight there was no sign of it. Like old friends, they joked, drank, and gambled—another thing that the king simply did not do.

  Asara had known Leu her entire life. When she was still quite young, she’d set her cap for him and used her pale blonde beauty to lure him to her bed. She’d been his mistress on and off ever since. She had even borne three of his children. She would have sworn she knew everything there was to know about the man.

  But something had changed. He had changed. There was a wildness to him, a recklessness that reminded her of the tales she’d been told of his youth—before she’d been born, when he’d been just another prince of the list, no more likely than any of the others to ascend to the throne. And yet, beneath the apparent mirth, she perceived a razor’s edge of desperation. She felt it in her bones, like the first frost that presages the cold of winter, and shivered beneath her fur cloak from a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

  “You seem pensive, milady.” Ju-Long stepped out of the shadowed darkness. Squatting down, he held long-fingered hands out to the flames, basking in the warmth.

  Asara forced herself to smile, to play the politician. Ju-Long was the king’s spymaster. Of average height, his eyes hazel, hair a nondescript shade of light brown, he could, and often did, blend invisibly into a crowd. And while he was invariably pleasant and excruciatingly polite, he could make her skin crawl with a single glance.

  The sign of a guilty conscience? Unlikely. A conscience was not a burden she’d ever been forced to bear. She’d been born cold and life at court hadn’t warmed her. She felt no need for love, had decided long ago that she wasn’t capable of it. The absence had never bothered her. From what she’d observed, love was a weakness that was all too easy to exploit. Lust, on the other hand—that she quite enjoyed.

  “I am surprised by this outing, and the king’s mood.” Asara chose her phrases carefully. Lying was for weaklings, so she spoke the truth, but selectively.

  “No man can be expected to meet with Fate and remain unmoved by the experience.”

  “Fate?” Years of practice at schooling her face and voice stood Asara in good stead. She didn’t splutter or give any outward appearance of shock.

  “You didn’t know? Atropos visited the palace the other night and met with our king. She begged a boon of him.”

  “And what did our king get in return?”

  Ju-Long met her gaze, his expression impassive as always. “That is the question I was going to ask you.”

  Asara was saved a response, for at that moment Leu rose from his game. With a rueful sigh but a cheerful grin, he pulled a leather pouch from his tunic and tossed it into the shield, where it landed with the muffled clank of coins. Turning, he caught Asara’s gaze. He gave her a wink; then, with an exaggerated yawn, excused himself and left for his tent.

  She followed almost immediately, leaving Ju-Long without an answer.

  Kenneth, one of the king’s guards, opened the tent flap without comment, letting her past the web of wards that made the silk dwelling impenetrable to weapons, resist
ant to fire, and invisible to anyone more than one hundred yards away. The king’s traveling home was as safe as magic could make it—safe from everything but treachery. Leu’s father had been murdered in a nearly identical tent, with the same protections. Asara wondered if that memory had made Leu uneasy, caused his strange mood.

  She stepped into a large open pavilion dimly lit by a single glowing crystal in a lamp hung from the center tent pole.

  Leu stood directly in her path, his face shadowed.

  “Why are you here, milady?” He spoke softly, so softly that no sound would carry outside the tent, but his voice was cold, the words dropping soft as snowflakes between them. Asara knew in that moment that, like a snowstorm, this conversation could prove deadly.

  “I believed that you wanted me, sire.” Asara kept her eyes down and used his rank, not his name, because in this moment, however private, he was the king: not her lover, not the father of her children. He was Leu, King of the Sidhe, High King of all the Fae.

  “Asara…” Her name was a soft hiss on his lips. “I am not speaking of this moment and you know it. You presumed to join this hunting trip, uninvited.”

  Asara’s eyes widened in honest shock. It had been many years since she’d needed an invitation to join Leu anywhere.

  His expression was serious as he met her gaze. “You are far too skilled a courtier to make such a basic mistake.” He raised his hand and with a touch gentle as a feather across the skin, brushed his thumb across her cheek. “I have indulged you too much, and for far too long. Your games normally amuse me enough that I tolerate them. But…” He used his index finger to raise her chin, so that her eyes met his. Normally beautiful swirling silver, tonight his eyes had the shine of steel and the gray of storm clouds. “There is no more time for such things. The hour is late, and I will do what must needs be done.”

  Asara schooled her expression but her body betrayed her: pride stiffened her spine. He might be king, but she was not a woman to be trifled with.

  Leu’s gaze darkened, his features hardening into an unreadable mask. He pulled his hand away as if dropping something filthy. His next words were spoken loud enough to carry clearly through the thin silk to the guards and the nobles outside the tent. His tone was neutral, cold—and that was somehow worse than the heat of anger. “Lady Asara, you will leave immediately for the palace, where you will remain in your quarters to await my pleasure. Make no mistake. This is no request. It is a royal command. Go.”

  She left, her face flaming, heart filled with humiliation, confusion, and a building fury. He’d dismissed her like a whore—or a serving wench. Yes, Leu was the king. But after all these years, to deliberately make a spectacle of her in front of nobles who would gladly and happily spread word of it; to force her to spend days riding home, since without an escort or Leu’s explicit permission, the king’s gates would be barred to her …

  This crude, unpolitic dismissal was very unlike the sophisticated man she knew. What had happened to him when he met with the Fate? Atropos was the crone, the cutter of the threads of life. Had she shown Leu his death? Such a sight could change a man, Asara knew. But Leu was no coward. He had never feared for his own life in all the time she’d known him.

  Asara found herself hoping Leu wasn’t due to die. She might not be capable of love, but she’d cared for him, enjoyed their time together. She would miss him if he were gone.

  Still, all men die. Even kings. If his time was coming, there were things she needed to do—preparations to make to assure that it was one of her children that followed him onto the throne. As she untied a pair of horses from the string she began formulating a plan.

  8

  BRIANNA HAI

  Brianna woke to bright sunshine. A small ball of long, black fur with wide green eyes was kneading its claws into the blanket by her head. It took a minute to clear the fog of sleep, but she could smell coffee, and bacon cooking. Someone, David from the sound of it, was humming off-key. Brianna sighed. The man couldn’t carry a tune if his life depended on it.

  “Are you awake yet?” he called cheerfully from the kitchen.

  “Getting there.” She moved into a sitting position, careful not to disturb the kitten, who’d curled up and taken to purring like a motorboat.

  Brianna was still wearing the clothes she’d fallen into bed in. They weren’t even particularly rumpled, evidence that she’d been too tired to move much in her sleep. That explained why she was so sore and stiff. A body is not meant to stay in one position for so long. Someone, probably Pug, had managed to get her boots off, because though Brianna didn’t remember removing them, they were sitting neatly on the floor at the foot of the bed.

  “Not that I’m complaining,” she called out as she rose clumsily to her feet, “but what are you doing here and at”—she glanced at the clock—“six thirty in the morning?”

  “Pug phoned me. And he let me in.”

  Brianna was dumbfounded. Pug had used the telephone? It was a startling concept. Yes, he was more intelligent than most humans, and he had seen her make calls, but how the hell had he managed the buttons with his claws?

  “Anyway,” David continued, “you need to hurry up if you want any bacon. I brought fresh homemade bread, milk, and honey like he told me, but I figured the human part of you would want meat. I didn’t realize that gargoyles are such suckers for pork.” There was a hint of reproach in his voice. Pug must be with him.

  “I’ll be right there. Save me some.”

  She went to the kitchen by way of the bathroom. A glimpse in the mirror told her she looked as bad as, or worse than, she felt. Her skin was almost gray from fatigue, even after more than twelve hours sleep. By the time Brianna made it into the living room and over to the breakfast bar there were only four slices of bacon left on the platter.

  “Thanks for coming. I appreciate this.” Brianna sank onto the nearest stool and Pug moved to a perch farther down, giving her elbow room. David put a plate laden with food onto the smooth granite surface in front of her, followed by a tall glass of whole milk and a bear-shaped bottle of honey.

  “No problem.” He gave her a sunny smile. “It was the least I could do, considering you wore yourself out working on an amulet for me.” He fingered the stone hanging from the chain at his neck. It glowed in the sunlight, and even in her exhausted state Brianna could feel the hum of its power.

  “Did Max get hers?” Brianna lifted the honey bear and began squirting the warm golden liquid onto the slices of bread on her plate.

  “Not yet.” David shook his head. “She called in sick last night. I covered her shift.”

  Brianna groaned around a mouthful of food. She liked Maxine, she really did. A sweet, middle-aged, earth-mother type, she was almost painfully honest, but she was not the world’s most dependable employee and the computer sometimes baffled her. Brianna considered firing her about once every three months, and always wound up giving her one more chance—in part because she couldn’t seem to find anyone else who’d be any better.

  “I don’t mind. I didn’t have any plans anyway.” He sighed gustily. “The fireman and I have reached a parting of the ways.”

  Pug rolled his eyes; Brianna felt like doing the same but managed to control her reaction. David was young and good-looking, and seemed to have a constant stream of dalliances, none of whom seemed to last more than a month or so. It was no surprise to hear that the fireman’s tour of duty was over.

  “Anyway,” David said, shooting Pug a look, “I’ll give Max her necklace as soon as she gets in.” He smiled. “And I have an idea about a return gift for your father.”

  Brianna blinked somewhat stupidly. “How did you know about that?”

  “I’ve been researching fairy legends. I read that if you get a gift, you have to give as good a gift or better or you risk insulting the giver.” He looked at Brianna with wide, nervous eyes. “Is that wrong?”

  “No, it’s absolutely right.” She set down the now-empty glass of milk, which David
promptly replaced with a full mug of coffee. She was starting to feel better. Not terrific, but better. In a few more minutes the food would kick in and she should actually be able to face the day. “And you do not want to insult any Fae—but particularly the Sidhe.”

  “Why particularly not the Sidhe?”

  “Because they’re the most temperamental,” Brianna supplied.

  “And the most dangerous,” Pug answered.

  Brianna wasn’t so sure about that. The goblins were wicked fighters; pound for pound, even the smallest of the stone trolls were tougher than the Sidhe; pixies and doxies might be tiny, but they fought in swarms and their bites could cause suppurating wounds that festered the flesh off of a body. There were dragons, and other, worse things that would rather eat you than look at you. Brianna couldn’t think of a single creature native to Faerie that wasn’t dangerous to a mortal who had been lured to the far side of the veil. But the Sidhe had the most magic, and were by far and away the sneakiest and most tricksy. As the current high king, her father was the most dangerous of all. Which thought brought her neatly back to the problem at hand.

  “What did you have in mind?” Over the lip of her mug, Brianna watched David roll up his sleeves and start cleaning up the mess in the kitchen.

  “I think you should get in touch with Ed. He’s got some absolutely amazing paintings.”

  An undeniably gifted painter, Ed was an art school classmate of David’s. He was also the single most egotistical and annoying human being Brianna had ever had to cope with. At David’s behest, she’d modeled for some illustrations Ed was doing for a fantasy novel. By the third session it had taken all of her self-control not to throttle the little bastard and put all four of them out of their misery.

  When she didn’t say anything, David gave her a meaningful look. “I know he’s an ass. But he’s a talented ass, and you need something special for your father. Do you really think you’re going to get anything else on short notice without paying an arm and a leg?”