Threesomed 2

by New Dawning Books

  In all haste, Fallon dragged a bow from the holder, and threw a stocked quiver over his shoulder. He looped a scabbard over his right arm, and grabbed two swords. He jumped the wall, studying the grounds. Footsteps marred the wild grasses that dominated the landscape. A broken branch ahead.

  He had direction.

  * * * *

  Discretion was the better part of valor.

  Except, perhaps when a man was in a rage over the woman he cared for, and not really a man at all. Dearg made no move to hide his presence. Besides, he was dragon in this form. Anyone who looked to the skyline could see him. So he made his existence known, lighting the clouds an angry orange as he burst fire that would melt even a Sidhe Knight on contact.

  His bellows covered square miles in every direction. His keen eyes quartered the area. His heightened sense of smell, his natural ability to sense prey was put through their paces. His body made the forest beneath darker than night.

  The sight of a glaring white figure amongst all of the greens and browns chilled his blood. Not just the Knights had taken their woman, but the Queen herself. Fallon would be forced to act, if he saw her. Indecision flashed.

  But only for a second.

  He swooped down, the end of his tail ripping trees clear from the roots, aimed at the fleeing Knights. Two toppled under the weight, pinned until he swerved his attention to them. Five to go.

  He roasted a ring of foliage, cutting off the Queen and the Captain, who pulled a half-conscious Siobhan behind him. They reared at crackling flame as Dearg landed.

  In his anger, he hadn’t noticed a Knight dart under his wings. The blade cut into his hide like butter, though the pain stayed distant. His long neck craned, jaws snapped, breaking the Knight in two.

  The Queen twisted in midair, throwing a spell at him that rebounded off his scales. How stupid! He had discovered a few tidbits that put him far ahead of his assailants. He chuckled, though the sound from his mouth was nothing a human could utter. All the same, her eyes widened, and her milky skin paled to grey.

  He cast a communication charm, so his voice resonated through their heads, a shrill screech.

  Stupid woman. You cursed me to this form, but you know nothing of dragons. Your magick doesn’t work on us. We are elemental.

  “How do you know any better than I?”

  Like most Sidhe, you ignore the lesser fae. Fallon and I never had that crippling view. We preferred to know thy friend or foe.

  “Arrogant bastard!”

  She shifted. He released another stream of fire to her left, anticipating her move before she made it. When he went to blow a killing strike, she hid behind Siobhan.

  Oh, sweet Goddess, she was a coward.

  “You’re here for her, aren’t you? That is why my Knights couldn’t find you. She kept you safe from me,” the Queen said. “Another crime to add to the list she will be punished for.”

  You have to escape me first.

  A war cry behind them told him well enough Fallon had indeed arrived. Hard not to track a dragon on the tail of an enemy. Siobhan shook her head, narrowing her eyes as she gazed at them. Whatever spell had been cast on her wore off with every passing moment.

  Maghnus and Neasan moved in front of their Queen and Captain, attempting not to show the fear Dearg smelled, swords drawn in front of them. His mind worked. How best to achieve his goal, without killing Siobhan in the process?

  “See! He hesitates now,” the Queen whispered in the Captain’s ear. “She has enthralled your Knights to keep her safe.”

  Dearg growled, and the Captain better covered the Queen with his body. Then Fallon spotted her. He charged, engaging Maghnus with vicious blows.

  Siobhan’s eyes cleared little by little. Mischievousness entered her gaze as she completely dropped her weight, unbalancing the Captain, forcing him to choose: her, or his Queen.

  He let her go, and she rolled out of the way. Magick simmered, white glitter backed by the wall of dying fire, a portal ripped open, and the Queen threw herself in. Dearg thundered forward, but the fabric of the spell stitched back together.

  Chapter Seven

  Maghnus’ knees gave out, his mouth opening like a fish. His hands closed around Fallon’s sword that had run through his chest. Dearg’s roar brought his head up in time to watch the portal close.

  He pushed the Knight off the blade with his foot.

  Fallon screamed his denial at the Queen’s escape, a twitch in his mind at the chance to fulfill his oath. If it took the rest of eternity, he’d see her head on a pike.

  He tossed a sword over Magnus’ head. Siobhan caught the blade between two palms as she finished her roll into a kneeling position.

  The Captain bore on her back. She tossed the blade an inch or two into the air, caught the hilt, turning the blade as she plunged the edge under her arm, slicing through Garbhan’s knee.

  A grinding pull later, she was on her feet, facing off with the simpering Captain. Fallon pressed his back to hers. Only one of the Captain’s Knights remained, Neasan, the runt of the Sidhe gene pool. He whirled back and forth between Dearg and Fallon.

  “Keep that worm alive.” Siobhan nodded at the short Knight.

  Neasan squeaked with fear, hightailing away. Fallon sneered, but followed her lead. Dearg and he took slow steps toward the fleeing Knight. He stumbled on an exposed root, falling on his ass at sword point.

  * * * *

  “I won’t be taken again.”

  The Captain laughed, a frail façade to hide his fear. He leaned on his good leg, struggling for balance. She whipped her sword for his side, and he parried weakly. The edge caught his arm.

  They circled one another, trading blow for blow.

  “Give up, Siobhan. Come back to the castle with me, and I will let your friends go. The Queen spoke in anger. I’d never allow you to become another’s trollop.”

  Siobhan laughed hysterically. She might appear a solid woman in control of her emotions, but inside was a current of hatred, and betrayal. In facing this monster of her past, Garbhan was hers alone.

  “Merely yours.”

  “You are to be my wife. You are mine.”

  “I belong to no one!” She screamed.

  “Then you are mighty dimwitted,” he said gently. “All nobility are born to be pawns of royalty. You’re a Duchess, a female of worth, wealth and intelligence, to be bought and sold to the highest bidder. Tell me when it hasn’t been so? Your father agreed to your marriage. It is your duty to him and me, to uphold the agreement.”

  She jabbed at him, nicking his stomach. He winced. Her fuming anger got the better of her, and she missed his answering swing. The edge cut through her cloak, slicing her bicep.

  “My father followed protocol. He feared the unpredictability of the Queen, where I did not. He hated you more than I do, at least in the beginning. He begged me to submit, but even then, he knew I’d fight. I’d find a way, and I have.”

  “By running? Is that how you want to live your life?”

  “At least it is a life of my choosing!”

  “The Queen will never let you go. She will tear apart every corner of this world, until you are found.”

  His energy waned. His wounds gushed blood, making the hilt of his sword slippery enough that he dropped it. He started in horror, bending down to retrieve his lifeline.

  She lowered her hand, sword level with the ground. She thrust upward, straight through his cold, dead heart. He gasped, choked, coughed. Blood and spit sprayed from his mouth. She jumped out of his way as he fell forward, writhing onto his back. The action pushed the blade a foot in the other direction. The ground damped a blackish red. As she watched, his triple grey iris faded to near white, leaving tiny specs of his pupils in their wake.

  She’d killed a man. In all of her years, all of her fights, she’d never taken a life. Her chest hollowed, her body numb, save for the aches in her limbs, she sagged. She only wished her mind would quiet, but she wasn’t the fainting type. Thought after th
ought, plan of action and consequence flashed. The options from this pivotal moment in her life were few. Turn herself in, or run.

  All around her, the charred, broken forest billowed with smoke, highlighted by small, dying flames. The ground littered with battered bodies.

  The quivering Neasan cowered under Fallon and Dearg’s attentions. What sort of Knight forfeited himself in a fight? They fought to the death, or not at all. The Queen would be displeased.

  But he wanted to live, so badly that he’d shame himself as a Knight. She’d use that in the only power play left to her.

  Siobhan pulled her sword from Garbhan’s chest, sneering with distaste. Dragging his weight behind her closed the distance between her, and her men.

  “What shall we do with him?” Fallon said blandly. Though inflection didn’t mar the perfection of his outward cruel expression, by now she knew him. Brutality against the men who were once his brothers shattered his heart.

  But, they’d agreed this might be necessary to their survival. In the end, that mattered above all else.

  She swallowed, and stared at the body of the man she’d once been ordered to marry. Goddess, she hated him. Hated that up until the moment she’d run him through with her sword, he’d thought to own her.

  Staring at the little man, she debated his waning strength. Bile rose as she came to a decision. Bloodied blade high in the air, the edge shone in the sunlight. With a heavy thump, she cleaved Garbhan’s head from his body. Even his long hair sheared from the force. She swallowed again as she plucked the thing from the red stained grass.

  She walked to the fallen Knight, and tossed the head at Neasan. “You, plebeian, will take this as a token to the Seelie Queen.” She paused. “Alongside an important message. You will remember this word for word; as it’s the only reason I suffer you to live.”

  He bowed his head, Fallon’s blade nicking his throat. Blood welled, running down his pale, sickly flesh. “Yes, my lady.”

  “Tell the Queen that I live. That Fallon O’Beollain and Dearg O’Dunlaigh are mine, and mine alone. I claim them. Should she send anyone after any of us, I will unleash my full wrath upon her and her alone. If she does not fear this, remind her, I killed the Captain of her guard in a rightful, fair battle. I shall do everything in my power to see that Fallon O’Beollain completes his oath, and ends her pitiful existence.”

  To his credit, Fallon stayed immune to the threat. He lifted his sword an inch.

  “Y—you have my oath that I will pass on your token and message,” he stuttered.

  The coward he was, Neasan scrambled from harm’s way and snatched his Captain’s head. Without a word, he ran from the forest.

  A sizzling startled the silence of forest, followed by the crunch of bone. A naked Dearg strolled from the trees. She untied her cloak, handing him the cover. She choked on her emotions as she whirled, and left the scene, into the untouched trees.

  The familiar walk took no more than an hour. In front of the cottage that had been her life for twenty-five cycles of the moon lost the familiarity and safety that made the structure her home. She’d been rash in creating her getaway so close to the Seelie border.

  “What do we do now?” Fallon asked softly. He feared for her. She heard that much.

  “We cannot stay here anymore,” she replied, concealing the hurt. “We shall venture further into the forest. Into the dark wood.”

  “Monsters of the unknown live there,” Dearg said.

  She gave him her profile. “Do you fear monsters, my beloved?”

  He grinned wickedly, and slung an arm over her shoulder. Fallon leaned into her other side.

  “Never. I’m bigger.”

  “Then we find a safe place there, and ward it with spells I never dared use here.”

  Fallon stiffened. “Dark magick?”

  Wind tossed Siobhan’s green and blonde hair across her face. She made no move to push the strands aside. “I will do anything to protect you, just as you would for me. That is what family does for one another.”

  The men shared a long look, filling the silence well enough. Most of all, that look held hope, something they all needed right now.

  “We will be much closer to the Unseelie,” Fallon reminded.

  “Let them come. The only difference between the Seelie and the Unseelie, the night Sidhe will be honest about their hatred before they try to kill you.”

  She debated what to take with her. The array of court dresses she’d prized even in her exile? Her trinkets she’d collected over the years? No. None of it. She’d once rewritten her future by half. This time, she’d go all the way.

  Fallon rubbed her arm. “Will you miss the cottage?”

  Her lips quirked into a smile that lit her face. “No.” At least, eventually. “I already have everything I need.”

  They turned as one, as always, in tune with one another. They melted into the shadows, until the moonlight no longer penetrated the density of the forest. Their journey together had only just begun.

  The End

  The Birthday Gift

  By

  Giselle Renarde

  Copyright © 2011 Giselle Renarde

  Chapter One

  Meredith untied her apron as she hurried along the tree-lined path. This wasn’t the first time she'd forgotten to take it off, making a quick dash to the grocery store. Head in the clouds. At least she'd remembered to put on shoes this time. Last week, she’d met snide grins from other customers when she got all the way to the checkout before realizing she had on fuzzy bedroom slippers.

  Were those supermarket acquaintances sympathetic to her absentmindedness? Hard to say. Not long ago, Meredith knew just about everyone in Sheridan, but the times, they were a changing.

  “All these newcomers infiltrating our town…” her parents grumbled, bowing their heads gravely. Like a timid child, Meredith never disagreed with her stern father and critical mother. Her parents tolerated no argument. But didn’t the new families bring an exotic appeal? They came to Sheridan from all corners of the earth, with vibrant clothing and zesty foods. A whole world endured out there, and its inhabitants were coming to Sheridan.

  Meredith slipped her favorite apron—the one with pale pink roses and mint green leaves—over her head, then folded it in half and wrapped it around her arm. June Cleaver would never have made a blunder like this. The TV character was an aspiration figure for Meredith. “They don’t make ‘em like June Cleaver anymore,” her father used to say when they watched the black and white reruns. How proud she felt when her husband Jeff argued rare specimens of her breed existed, citing Meredith as an example.

  Darling Jeff deserved a wonderful birthday gift, if only she could dream one up. Simple was always best. Simple pleasures kept the impending boredom of life at bay: gardening, reading to Thomas and Jane, baking a cake. In fact, this very Saturday morning, Meredith was heading to the store to purchase the makings of a strawberry shortcake. She had the flour at home, but needed fresh strawberries, butter, whipping cream…what else? Oh, why hadn’t she written a shopping list?

  Because Jeff had rushed her out the door that morning, without even giving her time to throw a shawl over her shoulders. What good fortune the morning sun shone warm as cashmere. She’d chosen to walk through Granite Park rather than down Sheridan’s suffocating main streets. Twice as many cars crowded the roads as even five years earlier, and the exhaust fumes overwhelmed the hotter summer days.

  As Meredith strolled along with her sensible blue dress flapping in the breeze, a sudden chill ran down her spine. Something wasn’t right. A twig snapped behind her. Somebody was watching her every move—she was sure of it. Oh goodness, she could scarcely breathe.

  Swallowing hard, Meredith worked up the courage to look around.

  Not a soul in all of Granite Park, from what she could see. It must have been a squirrel, or a sparrow, or perhaps a hare. Silly girl, so jumpy. Nothing to be afraid of, but she quickened her pace nonetheless.

  Not ten s
econds later, heavy footsteps fell against the path. How could that be? Nobody was there a moment ago.

  Meredith’s heart raced. She glanced over her shoulder without slowing. Sure enough, a man was following her. Dirty brown hair obscured the imposing figure’s face. Where could he have come from? And was there something familiar about the lanky man in grubby clothing? Hard to say from a glance.

  Meredith’s body took over at the helm and she shot toward the path’s end. Only one house stood nearby, and Meredith darted for the large Victorian crawling with ivy, probably a summer home for business folk from the city. She tapped anxiously at the front door, but received no response. What could she do? She had to get in. Someone was stalking her.

  There wasn’t a moment to spare. Good thing most of Sheridan’s residents didn’t lock their doors. Meredith snuck into the dark home, bolting the lock behind her.

  Chapter Two

  Nobody appeared to be home. What a relief! How embarrassing it would have been to intrude upon a breakfasting family. Through the leaden glass of the bay window, Meredith looked out into the street. She saw no sign of the man who’d pursued her. Perhaps she’d only perceived him as a threat. Really, what evidence did she have that he meant to hurt her? Just because a man wearing dirty clothing walked through the park didn’t mean he intended any harm.

  How silly of her. That poor guy must have felt terribly affronted. She’d clearly overreacted.

  “Meredith?”

  Meredith’s heart jumped into her throat as she leapt away from the window. After a few involuntary steps toward the front door, she turned to see who’d spoken her name.