Alsten hesitated, looking at Laen with nervous eyes. "His majesty means, would you bring him a cup of coffee, please, Alsten?" Laen said, his tone deliberate as he spoke over whatever Corin might have been about instruct him for. Alsten smiled at him with gratitude.
"Yes, of course, right away."
Corin glared at his friend through narrowed eyes. "I didn't mean anything of the sort,” he muttered, getting to his feet. “And well you know it." He moved to stand before the full length mirror, making sure everything was as it ought to be.
Laen shrugged and moved to stand behind him, catching his eye in the mirror. "Well, it's too late to change your mind now,” he said in a told you so tone of voice that Corin took exception to. “I told you it was a damn silly idea, so don't blame me if your nerves are kicking in."
"What?" Corin glared at him and gave a huff of impatience. "Oh, I'm not concerned about the wall, you idiot," he said with a careless wave of his hand. "That is of no matter."
Laen raised his eyebrows. "Oh yes, a trifling thing," he said, copying Corin’s nonchalant wave with a snort. "Why on earth should moving ten million tonnes of rubble cause you a moment’s concern?" he added, before throwing up his hands in frustration.
Corin rolled his eyes at him and sat down again. In truth, he was worried, but not about the wall. Ridiculously enough, bearing in mind all the challenges ahead of him, there was something rather closer to home that had given him something of a sleepless night. He looked up at his oldest friend, a frown creasing his forehead.
Laen sighed. "Come on, then, out with it,” he demanded, folding his arms and waiting for Corin’s confession. Corin frowned, pursing his lips, and changed his mind again.
"No,” he said, knowing he’d only suffer for it if he did. “You'll only mock me."
Laen held his hand over his heart as though he had been mortally wounded. "As if I would do such a thing?" he said, eyes wide with indignation.
Corin laughed at his theatrics and considered his options. "Oh, you may as well know,” he said with frustration. He’d find out soon enough, he may as well get it over with. “I mean it's obvious enough,” Corin said, scratching at his head where a particularly tight plait was still pulling at his scalp. “But … but I just hadn't considered..."
"Oh, do spit it out, man!" Laen muttered, shaking his head at him.
Corin glared at him for a moment and then folded his arms, daring Laen to laugh at his predicament. "I'm going to have to take Claudette home and tell her parents that she's pregnant."
There was silence for a moment while Corin waited for Laen to roar with laughter, but to his astonishment, Laen was looking back at him with a serious and concerned expression … It only lasted a moment, and then Laen said, "No, sorry, can't do it," and reacted just as Corin had expected him to. Corin glowered at him while Laen laughed hard enough to split his tunic, which was a little on the snug side.
"It's not that bloody funny," Corin grumbled while Laen went off into another fit of laughter with tears rolling down his face.
"Oh, oh, yes, it is,” Laen gasped, clearly enjoying himself thoroughly. “Please tell me he's a boxer or a sharp-shooter or something of the sort." He looked at Corin's face and his eyes lit up as he realised Corin was unwilling to tell him.
Corin sighed, figuring he may as well get the hilarity out of the way all at once. "A butcher," he muttered, staring at Laen through narrowed eyes. "Claudette says he's a butcher."
"Oh gods! He's going to chop you into little pieces and feed your bollocks to the pigs!" Laen collapsed into the nearest chair, quite breathless with hysterics. To Corin’s delight, however, the chair, which was something of an antique, was not built for such a figure as Laen’s. He hit the floor with an undignified thud as it splintered beneath his considerable bulk. Corin lost no time in extracting his own revenge as he roared at the sight of his friend sitting amongst the debris. Once he had composed himself enough to speak, Corin went and stood over Laen and shook his head. "Karma's a bitch, isn't it?" he said with a grin before offering Laen a hand to get up.
***
"Is it just me, or is he getting to be a really scary bastard?" Dannon whispered to Laen as they stood watching Corin repair the wall.
"Not just you," Laen admitted, not taking his eyes from the incredible sight in front of him.
It seemed as though the entire population of the three nations had come out to see the spectacle, the countryside around them was thronged with thousands of people. There had been a roar of approval as Corin had appeared, looking every inch a powerful Fae King. Even the Dark Fae were there in great numbers, though Laen suspected many of them hoped to see him fail. They’d be disappointed.
Corin wore the slim silver and gold crown that had been gifted to him by Nerthus on the Field of Kings, and he was dressed in the deep green uniform of the Elven army. Leather armour, overlaid with gold, glinted in the late morning sunshine, and a green velvet cloak, heavily embroidered with gold braid and golden, magical symbols, fell from his shoulders in great swathes. The large jewelled badges, representing each of his kingdoms, glittered on his chest, and the sword Laen had given him all those years ago hung at his hip. Laen felt sympathy for his friend, as from his privileged position, he could see a bead of sweat fall from Corin's temple, running down his face. The effort of the magic he was using, plus the constraints of the outfit on a lovely, warm spring day must be bloody exhausting.
At first, Laen had been concerned that he had been right after all, as Corin had begun to use his magic to lift the massive boulders back into place, one at a time. It was pretty impressive for sure, but there was no way he was going to rebuild the wall any time in the next six months at that speed. Then the ground had rumbled and shuddered beneath their feet, the atmosphere prickling with power, and the great stones had begun to fly through the air with a speed and accuracy that was almost beyond comprehension. It had been barely twenty minutes, and the job was almost done. He and Dannon exchanged glances as the final stones were laid in place and the crowd erupted.
"Did you know he could do that?" Dannon asked him, and Laen shrugged. In the past, Laen would never have spoken of such things, certainly not to Dannon, but Corin was king now.
"He's always hidden his power,” Laen said, leaning in and keeping his voice low. “I've always known he was gifted with more than anyone else, but ..." He paused, hesitating as he admitted something he’d never really said out loud, not even to Corin. "To be honest, Dannon, the really scary thing is, I don't think he knows himself what he's capable of."
Dannon nodded and gestured to where Corin was covering the wall with a thick curtain of climbing white roses, to the delight of his people. They burst open like silent fireworks, the heady scent of them perfuming the air and mingling with the lingering aura of powerful magic. "I guess we'll find out,” he said, raising one eyebrow as he turned back to Laen. “Sooner or later."
***
Claudette made her excuses and left the party with a sigh of relief. Corin was going to leave, too, as soon as he could, but she knew it would be an hour or more before he could extricate himself without causing offence.
The scent of roses drifted on the breeze as she walked, perfuming the air around her through an open window as she made her way across the castle. She smiled, touched and delighted by his gesture. He had broken some from the wall and threaded them into the thick tresses of her hair so it appeared she was wearing a crown of white roses. The people had cheered and clapped, roaring their approval until she thought she would have the sound of it ringing in her ears for the rest of her days.
As Claudette walked back to their rooms, with the intention of putting her feet up with a good book, she realised she was passing the doors to the great library. She had almost finished her own book and she had wanted to do some research of her own. Turning, she asked her guards to wait outside. She didn't want the librarian to be cross with her for bringing a load of heavy booted soldiers into his precious domain. He was quit
e terrifying enough without annoying him the moment she stepped into the room.
It was rather a daunting place. The walls reached up with the proportions of a vast cathedral, with miles and miles of balconies giving access to each level. The thought of trying to find anything in the hundreds of millions of titles here seemed an impossible prospect.
"May I be of service, my lady?"
Claudette jumped out of her skin as the little Light Fae man made his presence known. He stood barely as high as her shoulder, and she wondered just how old he was. His face was that of an exceedingly elderly man, his eyes pale blue and myopic behind pebble-thick glasses. Bearing in mind Corin looked like he was in his twenties when he was actually one-hundred and eighty-seven, she could only look on the elderly man with awe.
He gave her a smile, which Claudette hoped was supposed to be reassuring, though it actually sent shivers down her spine. "Well, yes,” she said, sounding a little breathless and anxious. She paused for a moment, reminding herself she was soon to be queen and ought not be intimidated. “Actually, I was looking for something in particular. Perhaps you could help me?" she asked, hoping he wasn’t going to be standoffish, as she was human and not Fae.
To her relief, he looked deeply pleased and not the least bit put out. "I would be delighted." He gave her a formal bow, and as he stood upright again, his pale blue eyes twinkled from under bushy white eyebrows. "What was it you were looking for?" he enquired with interest.
Claudette hesitated, suddenly nervous, but took a breath and asked, "Can you find me something about the Bright King, please?"
There was a flash of curiosity in his intelligent eyes and he looked at her more closely, as though he was weighing her up. "What is it you seek, my lady?” he asked, his interest in her clearly growing by the moment. “Do you want to hear the legends, the bedtimes stories we tell our children?"
Claudette frowned at him, not quite understanding her options. "Or?" she asked, wondering what else he could mean.
"Or,” he said, a rather ominous tone to his voice now. “Do you want to read the words of the Old Ones?"
There was a warning look in his eyes that made her blood run cold, but she didn't like to be intimidated, not by anyone, and so she put her chin up and spoke with the assurance of a queen. "The words of the Old Ones, of course."
The ancient librarian looked back at her, still appraising, and then smiled, as though she had passed some kind of test. He nodded and gestured for her to come. "Then you will need to follow me," he said, his voice low.
He led her through the great rooms of the library, the sound of their footfalls echoing and making Claudette feel increasingly ill at ease. Eventually they reached a small door, almost hidden in shadows of a dark corner of the library. It was protected by a magical ward, and Claudette watched with interest as a shower of green sparks fell to the floor as the librarian unlocked it. Behind the door came a flight of stairs. The temperature fell as they descended, down and down, far further than Claudette had anticipated when they’d begun. She began to wish she had not come at all, as her skin prickled with the growing cold and an increasing sense of foreboding. Sitting with her feet up without a book suddenly seemed very appealing indeed.
They came to a large wooden door, and she heard the old man speak under his breath once more. This time, a shower of blue sparks fell as he broke the ward and reached forward to open the door.
"After you, my lady,” he said, his gaze rather intense now, perhaps wondering if she would lose her nerve.
Claudette swallowed and stepped into a surprisingly well lit room. It was warm, too, with a fire blazing in the hearth and a strong, sweet smell that seemed to permeate everything in the room. There was a table and chair by the fire, along with a tray bearing a coffee pot and one cup and saucer. Almost as though she had been expected.
She shivered hard and the old man grinned at her, showing two rows of well-worn teeth.. "It's the magic," he said, chuckling. "It's so strong around anything the Old Ones have touched, there’s no getting away from it."
He gestured for her to sit down at the table, and then went and heaved an enormous book from the shelves. Claudette leapt to her feet again, concerned that he could not carry such a weight, but he waved her away. He put the book down on the table and Claudette stared at in in awe. It was huge, about a foot thick. Reaching out, curious now, she touched her fingers to the cover and then snatched them away, wiping them on her dress to try and rid them of the prickling sensation that stung her where she had touched it. It was a familiar sensation nonetheless, like Corin’s magic.
She looked down at the book, feeling a tremor of excitement that was short-lived as she took in the strange, curling lettering on the cover.
"Oh," she said with disappointment, turning back to the librarian with dismay. "I can't read that."
The old man chuckled and touched his finger to his nose. "Of course not,” he said, shaking his head at the idea. “That's the old tongue. There none left who can read that now, but ..." He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and took out a pair of glasses. "Put them on,” he instructed, handing them to her. “It will all become clear."
She took the glasses from him and did as he instructed. To her surprise, when she looked again at the cover, the letters squirmed for a moment, wriggling like maggots in a pot before settling themselves into words she could read. She stared at the cover, and felt bad as the man had clearly made a mistake. He’d hauled the massive book down for nothing.
"I’m so sorry, but this can't be right," she said, smiling at him with chagrin. "I just wanted to know about the Bright King."
The old man gave her a sympathetic smile and patted her shoulder. "That's right, my dear, you'll find him in there."
Claudette sank into the chair as her knees gave way, staring at the title of the book with her heart pounding hard. They were just stories, she reminded herself, even as the sting of magic burned still on her fingertips. She swallowed, finding her throat dry as she took a breath, opening the book to the index, trying to touch it as little as possible.
For a moment, the strange words flickered in front of her eyes, and when they finally focused, she felt that she still couldn't take them in. Her mind refused to read them, though the writing was perfectly clear. The heading she wanted stood out clear enough, though, thick black writing on the musty, yellowing page, the scent and weight of the ages thick in the air about her.
She turned the pages, hardly daring to breath, until she found the chapter that detailed the history of the Bright King. Claudette stared at the chapter heading with disbelief, her heart beating in her throat ...
THE HISTORY OF THE GOD FREYR.
(The Bright King)
To be continued in The Dark Decadence, coming 2019
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About Me!
I started this incredible journey way back in 2010 with The Key to Erebus but didn’t summon the courage to hit publish until October 2012. For anyone who’s done it, you’ll know publishing your first title is a terribly scary thing! I still get butterflies on the morning a new title releases but the terror has subsided at least. Now I just live in dread of the day my daughters are old enough to read them.
The horror! (On both sides I suspect.)
>
2017 marked the year that I made my first foray into Historical Romance and the world of the Regency Romance, and my word what a year! I was delighted by the response to this series and can’t wait to add more titles. Paranormal Romance readers need not despair however as there is much more to come there too. Writing has become an addiction and as soon as one book is over I’m hugely excited to start the next so you can expect plenty more in the future.
As many of my works reflect I am greatly influenced by the beautiful French countryside in which I live. I’ve been here in the South West for the past twenty years though I was born and raised in England. My three gorgeous girls are all bilingual and the youngest who is only six, is showing signs of following in my footsteps after producing The Lonely Princess all by herself.
I’m told book two is coming soon ...
She’s keeping me on my toes, so I’d better get cracking!
KEEP READING TO DISCOVER MY OTHER BOOKS!
Other Works by Emma V. Leech
(For those of you who have read The French Fae Legend series, please remember that chronologically The Heart of Arima precedes The Dark Prince)
The French Fae Legend
The Dark Prince
The Dark Heart
The Dark Deceit
The Darkest Night (May 12, 2018)
Short Stories: A Dark Collection.
Stand Alone
The Book Lover (a paranormal novella)
The French Vampire Legend
The Key to Erebus
The Heart of Arima
The Fires of Tartarus
The Boxset (The Key to Erebus, The Heart of Arima, The Fires of Tartarus)
The Son of Darkness (TBA)
Rogues & Gentlemen
The Rogue
The Earl’s Temptation
The Darkest Night Page 57