The Torn Wing

by Kiki Hamilton

  “Larkin has escaped.”

  Tiki had an odd sensation of falling. “But how?” she whispered. “They clamped her wings with iron…”

  Rieker shook his head, his jaw clenched in distaste. “She tore her own wing off.” He kept his arm around Tiki’s shoulders and steered her toward the townhome. “Gather what you need—Leo has requested our presence at Buckingham.”

  Chapter Three

  In less than an hour Tiki and Rieker were being ushered into Buckingham Palace. The opulence of the Palace was as overwhelming this time as the other few times Tiki had visited. Crystal chandeliers glittered from soaring ceilings. Gilt-framed pictures of dour-faced ancestors graced the walls, watching their passage with haughty regard. Rugs an inch thick rested on marble floors and hushed their footsteps as the doorman led them to the library where Prince Leopold waited.

  “Ah, Wills, you’ve arrived.” Leo pushed himself out of a chair in front of the fire and came to greet them. At eighteen, he and Rieker were the same age and had been chums since childhood. “Miss Tara.” He gave her a beguiling smile, dimples appearing in each cheek. “Always a delight to see you.”

  Tiki dipped into a curtsy and bowed her head to the prince. “And you sir,” she said with a shy smile.

  “You look lovely,” he said, bending over her hand, “but then, you always do.” He did not release her hand, but instead led her toward the fire. “You remember my mother? Queen Victoria?”

  At his words, Leo led her around the back of the chair opposite to where he’d had been sitting to face the occupant. Tiki gasped out loud. It was the Queen, in the flesh, sitting three feet in front of her. A small tiara of diamonds graced the sovereign’s dark hair and she wore a gown of black, still in mourning for the passing of her husband, Albert, over ten years earlier. Next to her chair a small black and white cocker spaniel rested her head on her paws, watching Tiki with thoughtful brown eyes.

  Leo swept his arm toward Tiki. “Mother, may I present Mistress Tara Kathleen Dunbar.”

  “Your Majesty.” Tiki bowed her head low as she dropped into a curtsy, her heart racing a million miles a minute. Had Rieker known the Queen was going to be here?

  “You may rise, Miss Dunbar,” the Queen said in a rich voice.

  “Your Majesty.” Rieker was next to Tiki now, also bowing to the Queen. As William Richmond, he had grown up with Leo and Arthur and had often played in the gardens of Buckingham Palace. It wasn’t until after his family had been murdered that he’d run away to the streets where he lived as Rieker, a pickpocket who helped the street children find food without getting arrested.

  “Hello William.” The warmth in the Queen’s voice was unmistakable. “So nice to see you again.” She tilted her head. “You look well. No troubles to report, I take it?”

  “All is well at the moment, Madam.” Rieker’s lips curved in a confident smile and Tiki was filled with pride. Rieker was like a chameleon, changing colors to adapt to his environment. One minute he could be rubbing elbows with the worst of the lot who lived among London’s underbelly in places like Seven Dials—the next, shifting seamlessly into the role of a young lord, chatting with the Queen like old friends. Tiki wondered what else she didn’t know about the young man.

  “Can I offer you something to drink?” Leo asked.

  After chairs were pulled closer and a sweet tea served, he cleared his throat. “We’ve asked you here today to share a serious bit of news we’ve learned.”

  Before he could continue, the Queen interrupted. “No disrespect intended, Miss Dunbar, but perhaps we should speak to William alone on this matter.” She waved a jeweled hand. “For the security of all, of course.”

  Tiki jumped to her feet and dipped her head. “Of course, your Majesty.” Tiki was torn between emotions: wanting to stay and hear whatever the news might be and relief the problem didn’t require her involvement.

  The door to the library swung open and Prince Arthur, Leo’s older brother by three years, hurried into the room. “Hughes said you’d arrived,” he called across the room. “Wills, always good to see you, old chap, you’re well, yes?”

  “All’s well here, Arthur.”

  Arthur stopped before Tiki. “And the lovely Miss Dunbar,” he gave a short bow, “always a pleasure.”

  “I’ve asked Wills and Tara to join us today to give them the news.” Leo glanced over his shoulder at Tiki as he poured Arthur a glass of tea. “Tara, you’ve a nickname, haven’t you? Wills has mentioned it before.”

  Heat rose in Tiki’s cheeks. To stand before three royals, one of whom was the Queen of England, and all who were staring at her, was a bit overwhelming. She focused on keeping her voice steady. “Yes, it’s Tiki. Short for Tara Kathleen. My father gave me the name as a child.”

  “Yes, I remember now,” Leo said. “Tiki of the faerie ring.” He handed Arthur the glass then stepped over to the empty chair next to his mother. “I invited Tara here for a reason today. It was Mamie who identified the birthmark on Tara’s wrist for me as an fáinne sí—which, in the Celtic world, translates to ‘the faerie ring’. Though I know few details, I believe Tara has as much of a connection to this mysterious realm as Wills. I was hoping she could shed some light on the whole mess.” He sank into the blue upholstered chair and smiled at Tiki. “It might be best if she stays.”

  Queen Victoria’s eyes narrowed and she studied Tiki. “I find the idea of your birthmark fascinating.” A wave of nervousness made Tiki’s skin prickle. “May I see it?”

  With a shaking hand, Tiki slid the sleeve of her forest green gown up toward her elbow. Her arm looked thin and pale, the delicate black lines that twisted and wrapped around her wrist more pronounced than ever. The entire group leaned forward to peer at her mark, three strands woven like a Celtic knot. The Queen motioned for Tiki to turn her arm over so she could see the other side. Satisfied, the Queen sat back and fixed a steely gaze on Tiki.

  “What do you know of the Otherworld?”

  “N..nothing, really,” Tiki stuttered. “I..I’ve always had the birthmark. I didn’t know that it meant anything until…”

  “I’ve been doing some research myself on the meaning of Tiki’s mark.” Rieker said, pushing himself out of his chair to stand next to her. His strong, straight nose was a perfect fit for the attractive contours of his face. Dark hair swept across his brow and a bit of a dimple winked from one cheek. Tiki took a deep breath, comforted by his support. “As you know, I was unaware of my own connection to the Otherworld until recently. Tiki and I are working together to have a better understanding of how our lives our intertwined—” he smiled at her, the skin crinkling around his eyes— “with the fey.”

  “Probably best to say it all in front of Tara, then, wouldn’t you agree, Mother?” Leo spoke, pulling Tiki back to reality. He motioned toward her and Rieker. “It’s obvious they’ve no secrets.” Tiki smiled, but she wondered if Leo’s statement was true.

  The Queen frowned. “Fine.”

  Arthur stood behind Leo, one arm resting on the wooden back of the chair. His dark hair showed signs of receding early but he stood straight and tall wearing a jacket of deep red, a hint of color in each cheek making him the picture of robust health.

  “We do rely on advice from Mamie quite often,” he said. “If she has confirmed there is a connection between the fey and our friend here, then I think it must be to our advantage to have Tara on our side.”

  “Grand.” Leo raised his glass of tea. “The decision is made.” He nodded at Tiki. “Please be seated again.” He paused while Tiki smoothed her skirts and sat down, then pushed himself straight in the chair. “I hate to inform you, but there’s been some nasty business about lately—nighttime attacks, deaths—” he pressed his lips into a straight line— “something out of the ordinary about them.”

  “How’s that?” Rieker asked, his brows knitted in a frown.

  “We haven’t found a connection between the victims yet other than the wounds are torn and jagged,
as if they’ve been made with something rather than a knife.”

  A chill blew through Tiki, causing the hair on her arms to stand up.

  “Like before?” Rieker asked. He didn’t need to say anything more. Everyone in the room knew he was referring to the deaths that had occurred last December when the ring of the truce had been unguarded.

  “Yes, similar.” Leo lowered his voice. “But this time, the killer is taking a grisly souvenir.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He’s tearing out their hearts.”

  Tiki bit back a gasp as Rieker grimaced. “Any leads?”

  “Nothing substantial. The Palace Guards are looking for witnesses near the last crime scene over in Whitechapel. They think someone might have seen something but is afraid to come forward for fear of sounding deranged.”

  Tiki wondered if Leo was remembering the chaotic scene he had stumbled upon in Rieker’s bed chamber when Larkin had been captured. There’d been a terrible row and a dead faerie named Marcus, had lain bleeding iridescent green blood on the floor.

  “Which, given the circumstances, is understandable,” Leo finished, looking rather green himself.

  “Well, thank you for the warning—” Rieker started.

  Leo held up his hand. “But that’s not all. We’ve learned a terrible war has erupted in the—” he dropped his voice— “Otherworld. The world of Faerie.”

  “That would explain the weather,” Rieker said. “The storms, the cold—the incessant wind. Quite unseasonable for the beginning of April.”

  Leo nodded. “Mamie has said as much. But, apparently, there is a new, more imminent threat.”

  Rieker frowned. “There’s always conflict of one kind or another between the Seelie and UnSeelie courts in the Otherworld. What’s different this time?”

  Queen Victoria cleared her throat. When she spoke her voice was heavy with unease. “It seems our alliance with the Seelie court is in jeopardy.”

  “How’s that?”

  The queen’s face was grim. “Apparently, the Seelie King’s head is on a stake outside his palace. Donegal and the UnSeelie’s want to rule all of Faerie.”

  Tiki clenched her fingers into a fist until her nails bit into the palms of her hands. She knew little of the fey world, but she did know Donegal was the Winter king, ruler of the UnSeelie Court. Rieker had told her he was especially deadly.

  Arthur spoke, his face tight with worry. “The UnSeelies are the ones who want to destroy the truce, held by magical fire within the ring you now guard, Wills. The same truce made with the English royal family and the high kings of the Seelie Court, which ensures peace between our worlds in exchange for the right of their kind to walk among us undetected.”

  He crossed his arms and paced behind Leo’s chair. “Mamie says this war in the Otherworld has waged for centuries. The Seelies believe joining with us will give them more power. The UnSeelies, on the other hand, feel our mechanical inventions have been replacing their magic; As our cities grow we’re taking over their world. They want to take back what they feel mortals have stolen from them.” His voice rang with a somber tone. “Apparently, they want to take back England.”

  Leo’s usually smiling face was equally serious. “In the past, as long as the ring has been guarded by the bloodline of those who made the oath, the fey can’t attack. But if the flame of the truce is extinguished, or unguarded—” his eyes lit on Tiki— “then it’s war.

  Tiki tried not to squirm under Leo’s gaze. She had stolen the ring last winter, unaware of the magical bond held within the stone. When she’d taken the ring from Buckingham Palace, the truce had been considered unguarded and the fey had crossed over to London, preying on unsuspecting mortals. A shiver ran up her spine. She didn’t want to go to war with the fey. From what she’d seen of them, she wanted to stay as far away as possible.

  The young prince hesitated. “We’ve been informed the UnSeelie king has found a way around the truce.” Leo’s eyes shifted to Queen Victoria. “Word has it he intends to murder mother.”

  Chapter Four

  “Why didn’t you tell Leo that Larkin had escaped?” Tiki asked as soon as they were settled in the carriage. Rieker sat on the bench across from her, his long legs stretched into the small space between them, brushing raindrops from his sleeves. The black clouds overhead had finally given way and rain pelted the City as if thrown from above.

  He shrugged, lines of concern etched between his brows. “I didn’t see the point. Leo’s already worried enough as it is. I don’t believe he knows of our history with Larkin.” The carriage lurched forward as they began the return trip to Grosvenor Square.

  “But still, she’s as much a threat as anyone. He should be aware she’s out there—somewhere.” Tiki sat back against the crimson velvet of the seat and stared blindly out the window at the verdant trees they were passing in Green Park, trying to calm the bubble of emotions that threatened to choke her. “Do you think she was involved in the murder of the Seelie King?”

  Rieker drummed his long fingers on the arm of the seat. “The timing is certainly suspicious but we have to remember Larkin is wounded.”

  “From tearing off her own wing.” Tiki shuddered. “That’s ghastly.”

  A frown flickered across Rieker’s face. “She’s desperate, Tiki. To be locked in one of Donegal’s prisons isn’t just a gaol sentence—it’s a living death. Especially for her. I’m sure she would have done anything to get free.”

  Tiki looked away. For a second, it almost sounded like he was defending the evil faerie. “Because of what she did?”

  “Really, it was what she didn’t do.” His lips pressed together in a bitter line. “Donegal ordered her to murder my family, but she didn’t kill us all. Instead, she saved me.” Rieker’s eyes looked black. “That’s why the high king of the UnSeelie court had her arrested.”

  Tiki’s heart twisted at the reminder of the loss Rieker had suffered. Larkin had killed his parents and two younger brothers as they crossed the Channel to Paris for the Christmas holidays four years prior. Their boat had capsized during a vicious storm and the others had drowned, but Larkin had held Rieker’s head above the water. Rieker had told Tiki last winter that Larkin had saved him because she had grá do dhuine básmhar—love for a mortal person. A jealous twinge twisted in Tiki’s chest. Even with the horrific things Larkin had done, was it possible for Rieker to be immune to her unearthly beauty?

  In a sudden burst the rain turned to hail and a million tiny fists pounded the roof of the carriage. Outside, the white ice came down with such force the sleet bounced when it hit the ground.

  A question burned on the tip of Tiki’s tongue. “How did you come to know of her escape?”

  Rieker’s face was guarded—almost as if he were hiding something. “There are those who keep me informed on important matters in the Otherworld.”

  Tiki’s eyes narrowed. This was news. “And how do they do that exactly?”

  Rieker adjusted his position on the seat and picked invisible dust from his trousers. “He comes to London and—” he paused.

  “Yes?”

  Familiar shadows lurked in the depths of his eyes as his gaze met hers. It was as though a wall had gone up between them.

  “And talks to me.” Rieker shrugged. “That’s all. His name is Sean. He’s much younger than Kieran was, but he’s been badly wounded at some point. He’s got terrible scars on his face.”

  “You trust him?” Tiki’s voice echoed with disbelief. Rieker had told her of Kieran—an old man he’d met while living on the streets of London. Kieran had been dying and Rieker had helped him find food, to stay warm. In return, Kieran had told him of the world of Faerie—the plots, the intrigues, the relationships. Much of what he’d shared hadn’t made sense and Rieker believed the old man to be delirious. It wasn’t until later Rieker suspected Kieran had deliberately placed himself in his path and that his incoherent ramblings were actually a warning.

  “What this Sean per
son tells you could be a ploy to gain access to the Queen’s ring you guard,” Tiki said.

  Rieker looked away, a shadow of irritation darkening his face. “We need to have some way of knowing what’s happening there, Teek. Especially if Donegal has found a way around the truce.” His jaw clenched and he gazed out the window. “Because if that’s true, then we are all in danger.”

  Tiki’s heart sank at his words, at the way he spoke so casually about a world so alien.

  “Sean told you of Donegal?”

  Rieker nodded. “He also knew of Kieran—told me things Kieran had mentioned before he died.”

  “So this Sean also told you of Larkin’s escape?” Tiki wasn’t sure why Rieker’s honesty was so unsettling. Was it that he’d been in contact with the fey? That he actually trusted one of them? Or maybe it was that he reminded her of the old Rieker—the one with secrets.

  Rieker nodded. “I came to find you as soon as I learned the news.”

  “And you believe him?” Tiki pressed again. “Trust what he’s told you?”

  A sigh of exasperation escaped Rieker’s lips. “I don’t know that I’d trust any faerie completely, but the Seelie fey are the ones who brokered the truce with us. They want to see the ring protected and to maintain peace between our worlds as much as we do.”

  Tiki was silent as she considered Rieker’s answer. It made sense the Seelie fey would want to protect Rieker—someone who carried the bloodline of Eridanus, king of the Summer Court for a millennium before being murdered. It was that same bloodline which allowed Rieker to now protect the ring of the truce. Perhaps it was that she was just learning of this fey liaison now, as disaster was striking, that made the information seem so dangerous.

  She brushed a strand of her long hair over her shoulder and peeked at him from the corner of her eyes. He sat in profile to her, gazing out the window, the fine muscles in his jaw flexing with his thoughts. His shoulders were back and he looked prepared for battle. So fierce, so wild, so handsome—he was everything she wasn’t: rich, titled, powerful. In that moment, he seemed a stranger again.