Curse of the Fae King (Dark Faerie Court Book 1)

by Delia E Castel

  “Do not cringe,” whispered King Drayce. He placed a large, warm hand on the small of my back and led me down a carpeted walkway.

  I clenched my teeth, breathing hard to keep the terror from rising to my throat. The chattering around us dimmed to excited whispers. I dared not focus on what the creatures around us were saying, because my gaze had caught that of the faerie sitting on a golden throne atop a dais of polished slate.

  Her platinum hair cascaded onto a dress of shimmering, white silk that clung to a figure that was both slender and voluptuous. She leaned forward, clutching the arms of her throne and breathing hard. Trembling, full lips pressed together in the kind of expression I would use when trying to contain my excitement. Light reflected in her gleaming, silver eyes. Eyes I had seen in a thousand nightmares.

  Eyes that belonged to the leader of the Wild Hunt of that terrible Samhain.

  Her greedy gaze bounced from me to King Drayce, reminding me of the kind of predator that wanted to wait until its prey was in pouncing distance before striking.

  My feet stopped several yards before we reached the throne, and not even King Drayce’s insistent hand could get me to approach the queen.

  Her eyes blazed. “Drayce. Why are Lords Ricinus and Abrus deceased?”

  “An unfortunate incident with iron, Your Majesty,” he replied.

  She curled back her lips, exposing white teeth. “Which you, no doubt, orchestrated.”

  King Drayce raised his palms, making him look all the more guilty. “They were going to kill Ailill. His daughter came to a valiant and bloody rescue.”

  The queen’s features dropped. “Ailill?”

  Something in her voice, a breathy anticipation or maybe the way she drew out Father’s name, told me that he was no ordinary criminal. And the hunger in her eyes told me that she might even have missed him.

  Hadn’t King Drayce wanted to kill Father to save him from a painful and humiliating end? Acid rose to the back of my throat, burning its membranes raw. By making that foolish bargain, I’d condemned Father to something terrible.

  King Drayce stepped aside, sweeping out his arm at the corpse holding Father.

  The queen stepped off her high podium and floated down the walkway, weightless as a dandelion seed. Her lips curled into what I could only describe as satisfaction. “Put him down.”

  King Drayce flicked his wrist, and the animated corpse dropped him with a thud. I cried out, tried to reach him, but he held my arm.

  The queen rushed forward and slid to her knees beside Father. She ran trembling fingers through his wisps of hair. “Ailill,” she said in a voice as soft as a caress. “What happened to you?”

  My stomach hardened, and I swallowed hard. She liked him.

  Her head snapped up. “Bring servants.”

  A startled gasp echoed from somewhere within the crowd, accompanied by the clang of metal hitting the floor. The crowd parted, and a helmeted guard dragged a young man with mahogany-colored hair to the queen. He pushed the human to his knees and pressed him down to the floor with his boot, eliciting a muffled cry.

  The queen’s fingernails lengthened into pointed claws.

  My breath caught, and I pulled against my bindings. “What are you—”

  King Drayce’s hand clamped over my mouth. “Do not attract her ire,” he whispered, “lest she uses your life force to revive Ailill.”

  She shoved those claws into the young man’s neck with such force, his entire body seized. A whimper caught in my throat. I’d read about faeries like these, but they used their nails to feed off men, not to revive others. With the greatest of care, she pierced the side of Father’s neck with her other hand. A tiny tremor ran through his frame.

  “Hush,” she crooned.

  I stared up at King Drayce, who looked on at the spectacle without expression. My throat spasmed in time with my frantic heart. What unholy mess unfolded before my eyes?

  The hand shoved into the young man’s neck glowed an eerie white, and she closed her eyes, letting out a guttural moan that turned my stomach. Light emanated from her belly, shining through the iridescent silk of her gown. The ends of her hair swayed in the non-existent breeze, and her platinum lashes fluttered. Then the hand that had pierced Father also glowed, and orange streaks appeared in Father’s hair.

  Color leached from the mahogany hair of the servant, and the young man curled into himself and shrank. A moan gurgled through his throat, reducing in volume and vitality. The final roundness of youth deflated from his cheeks, leaving then sunken. Pale skin hung off his jaw, thin and loose and wrinkled.

  Tremors wracked my body, and my breaths quickened into shallow pants. Sweat gathered on my palms, under my armpits, and trickled down my brow. I imagined a variety of terrible fates: the queen restoring Father to health, just so he would endure her cruel punishments. The other alternative was Father transformed into a monster that fed on humans to maintain an eternal youth.

  She drained the servant, moved onto a blond-haired youth, and did the same, leaving them withered and old. Then she turned Father around, revealing a handsome, young man, with vibrant, carrot-colored hair the shade of mine.

  “Throw those husks into the Mist,” she said.

  Tears of frustration brimmed in my eyes. I couldn’t think of any way to save them, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Father had a chance to escape, now that he was young. My shoulders sagged. How could I think such a thing, when those men had just been drained and cast aside like withered lettuce leaves?

  The queen slapped Father awake. “Where is it?”

  Father’s eyes snapped open, and he flinched. “Y-Your Majesty!”

  She grabbed the closings of his cloak. “The Book of Brigid. You took it!”

  He shook his head. “I left with the skin on my back.”

  “Lies!” she gripped his jaw with one hand, digging blunt fingers into his flesh. “Prepare for a century of torture.”

  I broke free of King Drayce’s grip and rushed toward her. “You can’t!”

  Mutters broke out around us. The queen raised her head, staring at me with eyes sharp enough to slice my soul.

  “Tell me your name, my child.”

  My insides writhed at the chill in her voice. Every instinct screamed at me to skitter backward, escape her attention. I pushed them aside and stepped forward on legs that wouldn’t stop shaking. “It’s Neara.”

  The queen’s gaze roved my form, and I had to push my shoulders back to stop myself from shrinking. “Father didn’t take anything. He doesn’t own anything of value.”

  “Indeed.” She tilted her head to the side. It was the kind of movement I’d only seen in owls.

  “Yes.” My tongue darted out to lick my dry lips. “And I made a bargain with King Drayce for his life.”

  With a wintry smile, she said, “But not for his freedom.”

  The spectators burst into laughter. It filled the room, a mixture of tinkling giggles and harsh caws. The fiends closed in on us, making my skin crawl. I clenched my teeth and kept my attention on the queen.

  Trying to keep the tremble out of my voice, I said, “I did ask not to be brought here, but the king tricked me and used the corpse to abduct Father.”

  She stood with serpentine grace, her silk gown susurrating over her slender form. “I have no plans to kill Ailill, but there are a thousand ways to make him wish he were dead.”

  I gulped, wondering what she would say next.

  “However, if you wish to save him from an eternity of punishment, you will fetch me three items: the Blood of Dana, the Sword of Tethra,” she tilted her head to the side and gave Father a pointed look, “and the Book of Brigid. Give me those items, and I will give you his freedom.”

  Chapter 6

  “I want my freedom, too,” the words tumbled out before common sense prevailed. It wasn’t like I had any choices. The worst had happened. I’d been caught, and bargaining was my only way out.

  A hush fell across the throne room, and the faer
ies standing at both sides of the carpeted path closed in, as though the entertainment was about to begin.

  Queen Melusina stalked closer, the silk of the gown slinking over a figure that curved and dipped where mine was straight. She stood nearly six feet tall, surpassing me by two inches, but the grace and power in her strides made her feel like a giant.

  Nausea quivered up my insides to the back of my throat, but I raised my chin, resisting the urge to back away. “You’re demanding three things from me. It’s only fair that I should get more in return.”

  “What is your third request?” The words sounded like a threat.

  My mind scrambled for ideas, and I forced myself to slow my thinking. If she needed those items, they were obviously important. With all the faeries in her court, she should have retrieved them by now, but she hadn’t. It meant that she either didn’t trust them in the hands of her subjects or needed a mortal to find them. I wrung my hands. Or there had been something unique about the way I had escaped her that Samhain night that meant I was the only person who could find the items?

  King Drayce gave me a gentle prod in the back. “Don’t keep Her Majesty waiting.”

  I shot him a scowl and considered the consequences of the bargain. I could find the three items and win our freedom, only to get a sword in the back for having slain those two faeries. Or the queen would grant our freedom in a century or some other unfeasible amount of time. She or her subjects could torture Father or me anytime between now and our release. And I hadn’t bargained for my life or to stop them from plucking out our eyes for having the sight.

  I sucked in a deep breath and filled my lungs with courage. “I will find the blood, sword, and book you mentioned in exchange for the life and safe-keeping of myself and Father.” I pointed into my chest and then at Father. “That means no torture, starvation, or mutilation of any kind before, during, or after the bargain.”

  She inclined her head. “Very well.”

  A breath of relief whooshed out of my lungs. I hadn’t expected her to agree to such a long list.

  “That’s Neara’s first request,” said King Drayce. “What are the others?”

  Her lips thinned, eyes burned with irritation.

  My spine stiffened, and I clamped my lips together. Why, after tricking me into coming here, would he help me? My mind scrambled for ideas. It probably wasn’t enough to ask for our lives and not to be harmed. She could keep us both safe but find other ways to punish us after I’d fetched the three objects she wanted.

  I raised a finger. “And when I have given you or one of your subjects the items, you will release us immediately and give us safe passage back to the mortal world and back to the time and place we were taken.”

  The queen bared her teeth. “Fine.”

  “And the two of us are to be pardoned for any crimes committed against the fae, whether real or perceived, past, present, or future.”

  The male in black armor from before pushed through the crowd and snarled. “She wants free reign to kill us all!”

  “I only want to go home,” I replied.

  The queen raised a palm, silencing her soldier. “We have nothing to fear from this girl.”

  I exhaled my tension. We might get out of this situation whole, and even if we failed, the queen was obliged to protect us from harm during our captivity.

  Queen Melusina placed her fingers under my chin. Unlike most faeries, she was warm-blooded, and despite my animosity, her touch didn’t make me flinch.

  My stomach tightened. I knew what was coming. She would seal the bargain with a kiss. For all my clever wording, I would be an idiot if I thought this would work. King Drayce had tricked me mere hours ago, and I was about to bargain with the worst faerie of them all. A spasm seized my throat, and I swallowed hard. What choice did I have?

  All I knew about the fae came from the leather book I’d left at home. I’d never dealt with the creatures for any length to learn their ways, although I’d killed a few over the years. Father hadn’t told me about having past involvement with the faeries. Nor had he divulged how he’d kept hidden during the Samhain massacre.

  Her lips brushed mine as light as a butterfly’s caress. White light flashed, piercing my heart. She drew back and smiled as though she’d found me delicious. What did I know? That kiss might have stolen my essence.

  “Drayce, you will supervise…” The queen raised her brows in question.

  “Neara,” said a familiar voice.

  I turned around. The gancanagh slid through the crowd, pipe dangling from his lips, and wearing the same, beautiful features I’d seen on the faerie on that terrible Samhain. Long, blue-black hair hung around a high-cheekboned face. His green eyes sparkled, and his full lips twisted into a smirk.

  “We meet again.” He held out his hand.

  A bolt of anger pulsed through my chest. I would have kicked him in the gut for getting me dragged to the realm of the fae, but the queen waved him away. “Neara doesn’t need to be caught up in your allure. She has an important mission, which Drayce will supervise.”

  “Why me?” asked the king.

  “She’s your find.” Her face hardened. “And how else will she find the Blood of Dana without your guidance?”

  His nostrils flared. “Entering that place is certain death.”

  A rope of fear wound itself around my heart, tightening until I felt the organ might explode. That explained why she’d been so gracious in agreeing to my end of the bargain and why she hadn’t been offended by my long-winded demand. She hadn’t expected me to survive.

  The queen placed a slender hand on her hip. “Neara is your responsibility until she finds my treasures. See to it that she comes to no harm.”

  Anger burned in King Drayce’s eyes. Beneath my trepidation, triumph flared, loosening the tightness around my chest. He could have avoided all of this by walking away when I had asked. With a grimace, he gave the queen a shallow bow.

  “Come, Gerald.” She turned away, looping her arm through the gancanagh’s. “You will entertain me this evening.”

  Two different guards scooped Father from the ground and dragged him after the queen. The crowd of assorted faeries closed in around them, obscuring my view of Father.

  I rushed after them, pushing my way through the onlookers with my bound hands. “Where are you taking him?”

  The first guard stopped to spare me a glance over his shoulder. “Back to his cage in Her Majesty’s boudoir.”

  “But he’s coming with me!”

  “Worry about yourself, Neara.” Father’s words were heavy with defeat.

  A sob stuck in my throat. “We have to stay together.”

  Some of the faeries in the crowd tittered from behind their hands. They probably thought I was pathetic, whining for my father, but what did they know about love? Wicked, immortal creatures could never understand what it means to see a parent become aged overnight, struggling and straining for every movement.

  The skin around my eyes grew hot, and tears clouded my vision. Everything—the sea of mocking, monstrous faces, the crystal chandeliers—became a blur.

  With a chuckle, King Drayce grabbed my arm. “You don’t want to be in the queen’s chambers tonight. Besides, the sooner we set off, the sooner you can gain your freedom.”

  Since I couldn’t break free of his hold, I ground my teeth, watching the guards drag Father away. King Drayce had a point. I could shorten Father’s time with the queen by retrieving the three objects. And if I failed, at least he would be young and strong enough to escape again on his own.

  “Let us leave now,” said King Drayce.

  I nodded, heart racing like a cow about to be dragged through the fires of Beltane. With as much dignity as I could muster in the face of the jeering faeries, I straightened my spine and strode down the carpeted walkway out of the throne room and into the dark, winding hallways of the palace.

  A hundred questions whirled around my mind, each pressing and insistent. Since King Drayce still h
eld me by the arm, I had to jog with bound hands to keep up with his long strides.

  “Slow down,” I snapped.

  “I thought you would be in a hurry to save your Father.”

  “Pulling me around like a spaniel isn’t going to leave me in a condition to find the Blood of Danu.”

  “Dana.” He slowed his steps and dissolved my bindings with a flick of his wrist.

  My pace relaxed, and I exhaled. “What does the queen want with the three items, and can you let go of my arm, please?”

  He loosened his grip a fraction and led me down a set of stairs, down another hallway, and cracked the door open to what looked like a supplies room. I caught a glimpse of shelves upon shelves, laden with labeled boxes that reached the ceiling.

  When he didn’t answer, I stared into his eyes, prompting him to speak. Now that my fear had descended from blind terror and settled into a heavy, clenching dread, I could notice a few things about King Drayce.

  His eyes, which I’d previously thought were aquamarine, consisted of a myriad of otherworldly colors and patterns. Tendrils of viridian green burst from his slitted pupils, each tiny muscle the host of celestial bursts of chartreuse that glowed like the stars reflected in the Emerald Lake. They bled into edges of juniper-green so deep it appeared black. My brows drew together. I had seen eyes like this before.

  My throat dried, and my lips parted. Looking into those eyes was like gazing into the sky when the moon covered the sun when ancient gods roamed the heavens.

  “If only I could tell you.” He stepped into the room, leaving me in the hallway.

  The words broke me out of my trance. “What does that mean—”

  “We leave in the morning. Her Majesty’s orders.” A sandy-haired fae soldier appeared from around the corner. He wore the same silver armor as the warriors who had approached us in the skies, and he was flanked by a dozen other soldiers. From the red cloak hanging from his shoulders, I could tell he was in charge.

  King Drayce stepped out of the door and snarled. “Does she not trust that I can get the job done?”