Guardians of Hellfire (Guardians of the Fae Book 2)

by Elizabeth Hartwell

  “If you need a hug and a cuddle . . . ask Eve,” Tyler replies with a grin, getting up. “Come on Cole, we’ve got your back, you know that.”

  We get dressed, and as I adjust the belt around my waist it feels comforting to put my star stone dagger in place. It’s a reminder that the final choice is always in my hand, and that if the Dark Rider shows his face again . . . I’ll be ready for him.

  “If he does,” Noah says softly as we head for the stairs, reading my thoughts, “I suspect you won’t even need that. You’re just going to kick his ass with your power like last time.”

  “That was his avatar, not him,” I remind Noah. “It’s just a feeling, Noah. That’s all. He’s the King of Hell, he’s not going to give up that easily.”

  The Great Hall isn’t as crowded as the night of the Declaration Dance, but there’s still at least two dozen people there, Lorelai and Deara standing at the front as the five of us arrange ourselves to the right of the two large chairs that have been placed at the head of the room.

  “What’s going on?” I whisper to Lorelai. “We were . . . retired for the evening.”

  “I know. I heard,” Lorelai says quietly. “But I do not know. Mother and father would not normally arrive without sending riders ahead to let us prepare.”

  “Lord and Lady Wintersong of The Vale!” a man at the door announces, opening the door, and a man who’s clearly Cole’s father strides in. He’s old enough that he’s starting to look middle aged by Fae standards, with a ruddy blonde beard and a black traveling cloak over his shoulders. He’s got the same body type as Cole, maybe a not quite as muscular, but in fine shape for a man who, if I remember right, is over seven hundred.

  With him is Lady Wintersong, a spitting image of her eldest daughter. She’s at least six feet tall and her cloak and trousers can’t hide that she’s got a body that would put a runway model to shame. The only thing that takes away from her nearly flawless beauty is the haughtiness in her body language, and the open disgust on her face when she sees me standing so close to the head of the room.

  “Father, The Vale is glad to have its Lord return,” Deara greets him. “I know the news is not great, but we have joyous tidings. Our family is reunited again . . . and has even grown.”

  Cole steps forward, and at first he’s smiling, striding forward to embrace the man who gave him life. Instead of an embrace though, Cole is roughly shouldered aside as Lord Wintersong strides past him to look Deara in the eyes. The hum of the audience, which had been anticipating the reunion between father and son, is cut off in an instant and Lord Wintersong’s voice seems to boom through the now dead silent hall.

  “I left you in command. And you let this happen?”

  “Father, I regret-””

  Her words die as two dozen men and women in white and yellow uniforms follow Lord Wintersong into the hall, their faces and armor clearly that of warriors.

  “What is this?” Cole asks as his father approaches me. “They are not men of The Vale!”

  Shock ripples through my Link with my Guardians, and it is only Cole’s mental discipline that keeps them from reacting more strongly. After all, this is his home, and there may still be a reason for his father’s surprising and outrageous behavior.

  “Are you the Halfling witch?” Cole’s father asks me, ignoring his son. He looks at my face, and grunts. “Arrest her.”

  “You will not!” Cole bellows, shoving his father away. A heartbeat later my Guardians are in front of me, and the warriors in white and yellow have crossbows and swords pointed at us while the women raise their hands, magic crackling at their fingertips. “I will not let you take her!”

  “We are under orders of his Majesty the Emperor,” one warrior says, his voice firm but calm. His armor is like the others except for an additional yellow stripe on his tunic, and he steps forward with an air of command. He clearly doesn’t want a fight, but is willing to do whatever it takes to complete his duty. “Stand aside, Cole Wintersong. Either we do this nice and easy or a battalion of troops will come and do it.”

  “Cole’s not going anywhere,” Jacob says, his knives appearing from seemingly nowhere. He’s the only one of my Guardians armed though, and the odds look impossible. “Neither is Eve.”

  I can feel my power trickling through my body, wanting to be unleashed, but I hold it back. Instead, it is Lorelai who steps forward, her eyes blazing in outrage.

  “She has been granted fellowship and respite in this house. We can’t just-”

  “I am the Lord of this castle!” Wintersong bellows, glaring at his eldest child. “And I will be obeyed. You may be my daughter and you may be a powerful sorceress, but I’m the Lord of this castle!”

  Suddenly, Noah lashes out, his deep inner anger pushing him to break discipline. One of the Sun Warriors got too close to me, and Noah’s fist catches him in the jaw, knocking him to the floor. A bolt of magic lifts him and sends him into the wall, knocking him breathless, and Jacob leaps in front.

  “No!” I cry out, not wanting anyone else to get hurt. Everyone in the hall stops, shocked, wondering just how far this is going to go. “No more!”

  “Eve-” Jacob implores as I tell him no with my eyes, and Tyler goes over to check on Noah.

  “We just got through fighting! I don’t want anymore destruction brought to this place because of me” I cry out, silencing everyone.

  Over my Link, I hear Cole. Eve, are you okay?

  Yes. I’m in control. I go over to Noah, who’s sitting up and holding his head, wincing.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Other than feeling like I got kicked by a mule, I’m fine.”

  I cup his face, shaking my head. “Thankfully, you’ve got a skull thicker than the castle walls. But this has to stop. No more killing unless there’s no choice.”

  Noah looks in my eyes, then looks at the warriors sent here to detain me. “And we may have no choice.”

  “She will be granted full rights,” the warrior in command says, realizing the direness of the situation. “We’re not here to cause strife. She will not be harmed and will be given a proper and full trial before His Majesty.”

  “Jacob,” I whisper, going over and laying my hand on his shoulder. “Remember . . . a time for war, a time for peace. After everything I’ve caused, I have to do this.”

  Jacob looks back at me, his eyes full of pain and doubt, but nods, putting his knives away. He looks at the Sun Warrior, his eyes narrowing.

  “On your honor?”

  “On my honor.”

  Lady Wintersong, on the other hand, doesn’t look pleased. “How dare this . . . this . . . malcontent bear arms in my-”

  “Quiet, Mother,” Lorelai says, obviously not pleased with what’s happening. “You must have known about the danger Cassina had us in long before yesterday’s battle. It is no quick journey from Solaria. Yet only now do you arrive? You make me ashamed to bear the Wintersong name.”

  Lady Wintersong looks like she’s just been slapped, but before she can say anything, I step forward, pushing between my Guardians to end this. “You do not deserve to have such noble children,” I tell her softly, shaking my head. “May you find your nights cold and your bed as empty as your heart.”

  “You . . . you . . .” she stutters, turning pink with rage before turning to her husband. “Are you going to let that stand?”

  I want to toss out an insult. How he couldn’t face his own son, who let his lands be attacked by Cassina’s forces, and only is willing to step forward with a dozen warriors and sorceresses at his back, but I bite my tongue. Lorelai has already said what needs to be said.

  “That’s enough,” the lead Sun Warrior says, coming forward with a pair of bracers and a collar. “This might be uncomfortable, but it will stop all your powers until after the trial.”

  I nod, but before he can attach the bracers, Lorelai steps forward. “She will need an advocate. I will be that advocate.”

  “Cole Wintersong will suffice,” the
Sun Warrior says, but Lorelai shakes her head.

  “My brother gave up his birthright, by the laws of the court he is no longer fit,” Lorelai corrects him. “I will stand with Eve in her stead.”

  The Sun Warrior looks around, then nods. “Fine. Eve Carter, I place you under arrest for the crime of murder and the use of dark magic. Do you wish to know your rights?”

  I look to Lorelai and she just shakes her head, so I remain silent, holding my hands out and my chin up. The bracers and collar go on, and immediately my head feels stuffed again, even worse than before. My dagger is removed and handed to Lorelai who tucks it in the belt of her dress.

  “We will depart for Solaria in the morning,” the Warrior says to Cole’s father. “Where shall we keep the prisoner?”

  “Where all prisoners belong . . . the dungeons,” Lady Wintersong sneers. “Take her away.”

  Cole steps in front, glaring at his father. “This is not over, Father. Not by a long shot.”

  The soldier is gentle, placing a hand on my shoulder and leading me toward the doors to the hall. It helps when I hear more footsteps, and I glance over my shoulder to see my Guardians with me.

  “Just remember the most powerful magic of all, Eve,” Lorelai says as we reach the door. “And the rest will work out for itself.”

  Perhaps. But as I head down the stairs to the dungeon, I still shiver.

  If Cassina is bad, how much worse could the Sun Emperor be?

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  Guardians of Magic

  by Elizabeth Hartwell

  One strong female. Four hulking Fae Guardians. Even a dark secret that could destroy the world doesn’t stand a chance.

  Paranormal detective Eve Carter knows things. She's always had uncanny gut instincts. When a run of supernatural murders take place, Eve thinks she may be the only one who can save her once idyllic hometown from the dark threat.

  What she doesn't expect is four sexy Fae warriors to save her from a vampire attack. Or the mysterious bond that she feels with them.

  Guardians Noah, Tyler, Jacob and Cole have spent centuries protecting the Fae, so when there is a breach of the veil between the realms, they are ordered to investigate the disturbance.

  But what they find is shocking. A beautiful woman with the gift of the Fae . . . and a compelling desire to serve her every need.

  The Fae

  The light gleams on their fair skin as they dart through the fields, their muscles flexing and relaxing in perfect displays of masculine strength and vigor. Their prey might not be able to understand why such beauty was anathema to them. They just knew it enraged them, and that rage was what brought the two groups together.

  Reaching the crest of a hill, one of them stops, nocking a white arrow on the string and drawing. The bow, made of a material no man could have ever drawn, easily bends to his will before the arrow flies with a precision and speed far surpassing any bullet ever made by man before piercing its target’s eye, sending it flipping twice through the air before thumping to the ground, dead.

  “That’s another one,” Tyler gloats, jogging up to the corpse of the demon hound and wrenching the barbed arrowhead from the hideous skull. “I hope you don’t expect me to do all the work today. That’s three already.”

  “What do you mean?” grunts Noah, slamming a demon in the head with his staff, crushing the skull with a blow akin to a sledgehammer. “I’ve done seven, and I get to do it up close.”

  Tyler doesn’t have an answer, watching as his friend wipes the head of his staff on the ground. However, their friends are not willing to let the two have the final say.

  “You know, Noah, your staff is impressive,” says Jacob before leaping into the air, flipping once with a twist as he avoids one hound’s teeth before flinging one of his trademark throwing daggers into another’s side. “But let’s face it. I get more style points. Oh . . . and that’s eight, lads.”

  Jacob lands, and the three look at the chasm the demon hounds are issuing from. They’re little more than pests to warriors of such skill and ability, but not all in the Fae realm see the creatures as easy prey and weaponry practice.

  “I wonder why they always pick the warmest days for their attacks,” Noah ponders as he wipes his sweaty hand on his pants. While Tyler is wearing his standard archer’s protective vest, the others are all stripped from the waist up, their chiseled, muscular frames glistening with a light sheen of sweat, the occasional pearl of light forming and running down a powerful chest or over a set of washboard abs as sweat forms into droplets.

  Except for a small grunt as his silvery sword slices the next demon hound in half, Cole is the quiet one of the foursome. In his mind, Cole knows he’s killed more of the demonic threats than any of his peers . . . but let them have their fun. As Fae, joy and humor are their sources of strength, light to counter the darkness. Also, it helps to mask the concern they all have because Noah’s correct. Today’s outpouring of demon hounds is heavier than anything Cole can remember from the past. And his memory stretches back an exceptionally long time.

  “So, Cole, is your butter knife living up to its reputation?” Tyler asks as he fires another arrow. “Shit . . . that one disappeared into the chasm. No way to retrieve that arrow.”

  “I’m sure the Royal Treasury will compensate you for the cost of an arrow,” Noah quips, chuckling. “Perhaps if you keep slinging your shafts so powerfully, Her Highness might let you into her bedchamber come her next birthday.”

  In almost any other situation, members of any level of the Guard casually dropping an innuendo about one of their own being a sexual target of their monarch would be the cause of jealousy. However, the four had been friends since they first met, soon after basic training for the Queen’s Guard, and had been tighter than brothers for close to three hundred years.

  Besides, it wasn’t like Tyler was the only one who’d lusted after the queen. She actively encouraged it among her personal guard, to the point of almost fanatical devotion, although only one Guardsman per year was ever allowed into her bed. “I’ve heard your pounding would be equally appreciated,” Jacob comments as he reverses a knife in his left hand and wades into a trio of dogs, his knives flashing in silvery white streaks as he slaughters all three in less time than it takes to breathe twice. “Although I think my deftness has its own place.”

  Cole again says nothing, his sword, the same one presented to him in person by the queen when he’d joined her elite of the elite and had protected Lunaria for centuries, cleaves demonic foes left and right until he stands in a muddy field of blood and stinking entrails. One final hound hurls itself from the pit, but Noah strikes it down, swinging his staff like a long baseball bat to send it hurtling back to the depths from whence it came.

  “And yet again, the party stops just when I’m having fun,” Jacob complains good-naturedly as Cole kneels at the edge of the rift to seal it. “Do you have to, Cole?”

  Cole just growls, pressing the enchanted stone to the edge of the pit. Webs of light weave themselves across the pit before the land rumbles lightly and reknits itself, scarred but intact. Satisfied, Cole stands up. “This isn’t about entertainment. It is about doing our jobs and doing them well.”

  “In that case, the sorceress who enchanted that stone may get some congratulations from me tonight,” Tyler says as he surveys the field. “That was a large rift, but the reknit was perhaps the calmest I’ve ever felt. Remember that one six months ago? My head was rattled so much I thought I was going to lose a tooth.”

  “Well, it’s done. Let’s report to Her Highness. It’s nearly time for dinner, and I’ve worked up a mighty hunger,” Noah says.

  Cole reflected on the heavy weight of the demon skull hanging from his belt as the four faerie warriors passed through the town gates and into the main square of Lunaria. Frightened Fae, both city dwellers and those who lived outside the walls, crowde
d the four champions until Cole held the skull aloft, a throaty cheer coming from the relieved population.

  “Another beautiful afternoon,” Tyler says as the four walk through the streets. “I do love market days.”

  Cole nods, not because he also likes the baubles and distractions that his friend wastes so much of his pay on, but because Cole appreciates the colors. Too much of his work in the Imperial Guard consists of violence, and with violence comes the dark . . . black or scarlet, gray, and brown.

  None of those are in evidence now. Instead, it’s bright golds and blues and greens that lift his heart. The delicious smells of fruits, of breads and sweets, and even some of the newest trend in Lunarian cuisine, human ‘fusion’ food, fills the air. There’s laughing children, women talking, men joking with each other . . . Cole doesn’t know if heaven exists, but if it does, he hopes it looks and smells like market days.

  Still, as he walks, Cole can see those who dim the happiness. Like any society, Lunaria has those dissatisfied with the way things are run. The low-born commoners are tolerated, for they are important links in Fae society. Besides, they outnumber the highborn noble class by fifty to one. For the most part, Her Highness tolerates them to a certain point, drawing her soldiers and Guard exclusively from their ranks, a carrot of minor noble rank promised to those who serve her well until retirement. Secure in her power, she looks down on the other ruffians as nothing more than noisy insects, beneath her concern. To Cole, he’s not sure how to feel. It would make his life easier if the queen didn’t have such complaints, but at the same time, he can’t help but agree with some of their feelings.

  For example, there are those who think Her Highness would be better as just a titular figurehead, that the human concept of ‘democracy’ would be a better way to govern. Such a system, with the elimination of the class system it entails, would focus on the needs of the common Fae and not just the concerns of the nobility.